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Roger nodded to himself like he was satisfied with the reaction like this was the right path he wanted to be going down, "Well, in the correction center you had a counselor, didn't you? I've never personly worked with the correction system, but I have had a few patients who have been to juvie. They have mandatory counselors all... residents have to see, do they not?" Roger kept the folder wide open on his lap, leaving it as vulnerable as it left Gaige.

Gaige could see line after line of typing. Words that described the boy he was a year ago, the boy he became inside. Roger let the papers all fall back until the front page was back on top and Gaige's mugshot stared straight up at the ceiling. 

Gaige nodded. 

Roger's lips pulled back in a thin but satisfied smile, "Uh-huh, and what exactly did you talk to them about?" Gaige's focus flicked between his record and the man prying for more information. He almost wanted to laugh and tell all about how you don't say shit in there. The most you talk about is how excited you are to see your momma when you get out, "Gaige, for this to work I need you to speak. This is not going to be beneficial if you keep everything bottled up-"

"I'm not here because it's 'beneficial', "Gaige hadn't spoken a real sentence to the staff/adults for the first time since he walked in with his father dragging him. Roger sat a little straighter, and although he had asked for it, he was still a little spooked by Gaige's voice and lack of purpose behind it. The only tone Gaige had was boredom and sarcasm, "I'm here because everyone is scared of me, Dad can't keep me at home with his new family, and if I go back to Flordia, I'm right back in that photo -or better yet, that's the photo for the obituary."

Gaige rolled his eyes and sat back in the loveseat, sinking in the bad cushioning. Roger sat still, processing Gaige's own future predictions. As a counselor for an eating disorder center, Roger was not new to serious shit. He had had his fair share of self-loathing, family crisis, and overall toxicity. He had heard all the kind of predictions of death, or parents being afraid. In a way, what Gaige had said, it wasn't new. 

But it was still bone-rattling. Chill causing. Here was this boy who could stare Roger right in the eyes, knowing that Roger had read all the criminal background that was in the system -all the alcohol, the various drugs, the DUI's, the fights, the missing school- and could smoothly say that he knew this his father and his father new family didn't want him at home. Could consciously admit if he went back to where it all started, there were two real outcomes. And the whole time, Gaige's face showed no emotion. 

It was...scary.

"Do you.." Roger had to regather his thoughts before he could continue his session, "You really think that?"

"Which part? That my family is scared of me? Around Christmas I admitted to my brother and best friend what was going on -I did it all on camera for the documentary- and they still are hesitant what they say to me when they call. When I was hugging them goodbye it was like they didn't really hug me in case they snapped me in half. And when my step-brother found out about all this two weeks ago, dud doesn't even make eye contact anymore. Don't get me started on the pussy of a father I have. 

"Or are you wondering about the Flordia part? The part that if I go back I'll get all wrapped back up in the shit that made me the way I am -the reason I'm sitting in your office. The part that if I go home to the place I used to be so angry to leave, that I might not be able to leave again? I know where all the hookups are, I know where all the killers are," Gaige sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, weakly looking over at the window and the pure like flooding through, "Everything you ask is going to need to be a little more specific. I may look like the rest of the fucked up people in here, but I'm a little different on the inside."

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