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Chapter Ten

"The only way you're going to get better is if you talk to me," the doctor says, and Edward can sense him leaning forward, closing the space between them. He feels trapped and wants out of this small, white room. But he can't. You're not meant to leave therapy sessions. The only way out is to become violent, but Edward isn't in the mood to fight. Not today. Fighting means you get your privileges revoked. No communal time, no art therapy and no movie at night. The only thing making it different to prison is that you actually get help for your mental illness. That and that it's a lot more clean and bright. He takes a breath in and exhales slowly. Taking his time to reply, not wanting to rush and involve more talking when it's not necessary. He thinks for a minute more, deciding what to say.

"I was doing a pretty good job of taking care of myself before I got sent here," Edward replies, his voice breaking. And as soon as he says it, he regrets it. He knows it's' not necessarily true. He knows he was broken and weak before he came to this place. But he doesn't want to give Doctor Hutt the satisfaction of that.

But still, when Doctor Hutt places his glasses back on his thick nose and jots something down on his notepad quickly, Edward wishes he had never opened his mouth. It's not going to make things better or mean that there will be less chat during this session. It means the opposite. Edward can almost see the words written on the notepad: denial. And all that means is that he's going to have to spend the next few sessions talking about drugs and if Edward still thinks about them. And the short answer would be: yes. All the time. He wants those little pills more than anything. But that's something he isn't going to let slip. It'll only make things worse. When the Doctor writes something else down his notepad, Edward feels his nostrils flare. He doesn't find it fair that these people here are allowed to write and make observations about everyone in this centre. They don't know them, and he doubts they ever will. Edward wants to take the pen and pierce it repeatedly into the doctor's thigh. Then he would feel how Edward feels all the time. He'd be in pain. He wants Doctor Hutt to understand how draining it is to walk into a crowded room of people, yet still feel so alone. There's nothing worse than being alone in this big, scary world.

"And why do you believe that?"

Edward doesn't reply. He doesn't know what he can reply without revealing too much about his past life. The life that involved the little red bottle. So, they sit in silence for a few minutes. Edward wants to look at the clock but restrains himself. He doesn't want the doctor to know he's counting down the minutes. Even though it's pretty obvious he is. Doctor Hutt makes a couple of notes in his notepad. Edward wants to rip it from him and read everything that's being written about it. He wonders if it's all bad things, if what Doctor Hutt is writing bears any resemblance to the truth. Probably not. He wonders again if he'll ever get to leave this place. Edward takes his hand out from underneath his thigh to readjust his beanie on his head. It shakes. So, he quickly places it back underneath this thigh, hoping Doctor Hutt didn't notice it. That'll only form a new topic of conversation, and one that Edward really doesn't want to have. But luckily the doctor doesn't say anything and Edward silently thanks whatever God is up there. One less thing to worry about in this session. He knows that he needs to say something, anything, in order to avoid any more awkward questions or statements from the doctor. So, he thinks for a minute. He needs to be careful with what he reveals. It only takes one wrong sentence for everything else to collapse around him.

"When can I go to the gym?"

The doctor looks down to his notes and flicks back a page, "Not until your fitness level increases, I'm sorry, it's just too dangerous."

Edward doesn't respond, instead looks back down to his feet. The old, mucky converse barely resembles the colour white anymore. He wishes his mum had brought a pair of his nicer shoes when she came. Not that it matters. No one really cares what others are wearing. Why would you, when your whole world is falling apart around you? He still doesn't know how long people have been in here for, especially Ben, Ashley and most importantly Adam. It's something no one talks about. One of the unspoken rules. That and asking why someone is in here, unless that person puts forward that information first. And it's something he wishes Adam would tell him. He'd like to know. Not just for the sake of knowing, but so he can learn more about Adams life, the life before he came here. The only people he knows why they are here are Ben and Ashley. No one else has been so forthcoming with their troubled pasts.

"Is that something you'd like to do? Go to the gym?"

Edward looks up at the doctor when he breaks the silence. He nods. This is one thing he can be truthful about, he'd love to go to the gym and play some football again. He thinks it's something that could help, before he manages to get his hands on some pills. He nods once, not wanting to elaborate anymore. He doesn't want to explain his feelings or why he wants to go. He just wants to go.

"Well then, that can be a goal we work towards then," Doctor Hutt chimes, "If you start to go on walks around the garden, we can monitor how your fitness increases. Sound good?"

"Sure," Edward replies and licks his lips. He glances at the clock on the wall. Hoping this session is almost up. He's managed to sit through most of it in silence and that's all that matters to Edward. As long as he doesn't reveal too much about himself. Almost there. Edward can almost smell the stale air of his bedroom. The doctor follows his gaze to the clock and Edward feels himself going red, "I'd like to talk about one more thing before our session ends."

Edward looks down to his lap again. He hands are going numb, but he doesn't want to move them. The shaking will be too obvious if he does. And he actually quite likes the feeling of being numb. It reminds him of when he took the pills, if only his body could feel like this. It would be bliss.

"Edward, I spoke with your mother after her visit on Sunday. And she feels it would be best if she stopped visiting for the time being. Until we've had a few more sessions and we work through some of the issues again".

At that, Edward can't help but look up and he feels his nostrils flare. But he manages to keep a clam voice as he says, "My issues?"

The doctor closes his notepad and places it on the small table next to him, "Yes. Edward, you know yourself that we have things to work through. But none of these things can be worked through until you choose to open up to me. So, until you've spoken some more and spoken about your addiction, your mother doesn't think it would be good for her to come and visit on Sundays."

"Not good for her," Edward repeats quietly and glances at the clock again. It must be almost time. He feels himself shrinking further and further into the seat. He feels as though he's that small insignificant pebble being washed up along the beach shore again. Alone. Like always. And even though this is what Edward thought he wanted, hearing it out loud now, he isn't so sure. He wants a pill now more than ever before.

"Or for you," Doctor Hutt says gently, "Edward. This isn't a bad thing. You still have a strong group of support around you. We'll work through your issues and you'll be able to live a promising life once again".

Edward knows this must be a line he uses with all of his patients, just by the way he says it with such ease. Like he's reading it off a script. Edward's just another patient to him, just another lost soul in this place. He's nothing special. He doesn't think he ever will be again.

"I'll see you on Wednesday, okay Edward?"

Edward nods, it's all he can trust himself to do at the moment. He gets up and opens the door, not caring about Doctor Hutt seeing his shaking hands anymore. If he does, then that's Wednesday's problem. And Edward already knows that that session will be in total silence on his behalf.

"Oh, and Edward," at the sound of his name, he looks back, "Even though your mother isn't coming to visit, that doesn't mean you can't write to her. Some of the other boys find it good to write to their loved ones to begin with. Then we can talk about visits."

"Great," is all Edward can respond before he leaves the room.