It was my first day of the new counseling group that my mom has signed me up for. I'm so nervous, mostly because i'm horrible at expressing how I feel. Especially in front of others. I found this out when in english class, we had to write a poem describing how we felt. When I got up in front of the class to read my poem, I read a blank sheet.
Mom said that this counseling group was supposed to be good for me. But that's what she said about the last one, and we all know how that worked out: terrible. She said that I should feel more confident about this one and have faith in the people that want to support me and help me rise above my monster. In fact, that's what this group was called. "Rise Above." At least the name gave me hope. Some hope. Hope that I didn't even knew existed.
My mom dropped me off in her blue Subaru and watched me like a hawk as I entered the building. On the outside, it looked like a nice doctor's office. On the inside, it was a madhouse. As soon as I walked through the doors, three little blonde girls ran in front of me and dissapeared into the room across the narrow hall. They have counseling for kids too? I thought. Well, kids have problems too, I guess.
There was a small reception desk on the right and I walked up to it. There was a young woman behind the counter with long blonde hair and blue eyes hidden behind black glasses. She tapped her pen against a clipboard. "How can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm Alexandria Hale, i'm here for a - -," I start, but the womans already got me penciled in.
"Down the hall, take a left, and it's the first double-doors on the right," she said proudly, like memorizing the rooms was all part of her paycheck.
"Must be an intern," I mumble, low enough to wear she can't hear.
I follow her directions and sure enough, there's the double doors, looming like pillars in front of me. Or maybe i'm just nervous. Yeah, that's it. I take a deep breath and open the doors. The first thing I see is a circle of chairs placed around a single chair. They were all red and I thanked the heavens that they weren't blue. I hate blue chairs. It looked like I was early and I got there before everyone else which was a relief.
I decided to take a walk around the room. I noticed small posters covering the wall saying things like, "Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact," and, "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."
Just then, a man came out from a door on the left wall that I didn't notice before. He had shaggy brown hair and green eyes, covered with almost the same black glasses that the receptionist woman wore.
"Oh, hello," the man said. "You're early," he flipped through a notebook that he had been holding in his hands and his finger finally landed on a page. "Your name?"
"Alexandria Hale," I replied. He scanned the page and finally found my name, putting a small check next to it.
"Well, Miss Hale, take a seat and the others should be arriving soon." He gave me a tight smile and walked out the room. Great first meeting, I thought. No introduction, nothing.
I picked one of the red twelve red chairs to sit in and waited. About several minutes later, a blonde girl with sparkling green eyes walked in, carrying a small zebra print backpack. She kind of striked me as familiar, but I couldn't remember where I saw her. She took a seat next to me and smiled.
"Hey, i'm Helena."
"I'm Alexandria."
"That's a pretty name. Dad or mom send you here?" I tensed up when she said "dad" but didn't react much. I try not to let it bother me. But we see how that's working out.
"My mom."
"That sucks. I really don't want to be here. Dad made me come because of all my recent suicide attempts." She shakes her head and laughs as if it's the stupidest thing she's said in forever.
"That does suck."
"Yeah. So, what you here for?"
I looked around the room and finally met her emerald eyes.
"I was raped by my father."
She was silent for a few seconds, then spoke. "I'm so sorry. The same thing happened to my sister."
"Is she coming to the group?" I asked.
Helena's jaw tightened and she shuffled her feet. "Heather died last year. She...she...she killed herself." Tears were welling up in her eyes and my heart went out to her. I was surprised that she was being so open about this to me. But then again, this is a counseling group right? You're supposed to share what's eating at the inside of your heart...even if it might be hard.
"Is the suicide attempts your way of coping with her death?" I didn't know if this was an alright question to ask or not, but I took my chances.
"I guess that's how it seems, isn't it? But yeah, I guess you could say that."
"And how's that working out?"
Helena smiled and looked down. "Well, look where it's got me now."
"Yeah, stuck in a room for an hour with a bunch of people you don't know, giving out your personal information." She laughed and stared at me.
"I wouldn't exactly say that you're a stranger to me. I've seen you around school before, I think. I don't think we have any classes together though. Rosemond High School, right?"
"Yeah, I think i've seen you around before." Now, I remember where i've seen her. Freshman year, Sarah Edmunds tripped her in the hallway, scattering her books and papers everywhere.
Just then, another girl walked in the room, black curls bobbing and eyes as blue as a husky's. She wore a small black hoodie with The Dead Kennedys printed on the front. A tan satchel was slung over her right shoulder, and miniature buttons covered the bag with little quotes and pictures on them.
I don't think i've ever seen this girl around, unlike Helena. She didn't look familiar to me at all.
She took a seat next to Helena and looked up from her Droid. She smiled and waved at us and in return, we waved back.
Helena was the first to make introductions. "Hey, i'm Helena. This is Alexandria," she pointed at me and I turned a bright shade of red. Not that I was embarrased or anything, but it feels kind of weird to be introduced by someone else to someone else. I don't know.
The new girl nodded. "I'm Jennifer Markus. Nice to meet you, guys." It was Jennifer that pointed at me this time. "Is it okay if I call you Alex? You look like an Alex person."
"Sure, whatever works for you," I laughed.
She laughed too and asked, "So whats your stories?"
I gave Helena a look and she returned one that said it was okay to tell. She was going to have to do it at some point or another anyways. "Rape and suicide," I sighed.
"Lovely combination," Jennifer said. "Just mix that in with a little abuse, and we're set to go." This made us all laugh which we probably shouldn't be laughing at it, but it seemed to make us all feel better.
Around ten minutes later, the whole group had come together. The other kids had finally arrived, and Helena, Jennifer, and I had accepted the fact that we were all a little way too early. But who cares? That gave us a head start to get to know each other better.
The man who I saw come out from the side office in the room was now speaking. "Hellooo troubled teenagers, I am Mr. Branson." he addressed us. Unfortunately, nobody got his "joke" if that's what you could call it. I knew it was an attempt to get us started on a good note, but everyone else didn't think so.
"Okay, anyways. Let's start off by introducing ourselves. You, in the blue and black plaid shirt," he pointed to a boy who indeed had on a black plaid shirt with black hair that flopped into his brown eyes.
The boy looked around, as if there was any other kid in the group that had on his shirt. There wasn't. "Um, i'm Michael Volson," he said, eyes cast down to the floor.
"And you're here for? Come on, guys. The whole point of this group is so we can help you. We can't help you if we don't know why you're here."
Michael stared at Mr. Branson and sighed. "I'm here because my dad abuses me," he finally said. This made Jennifer perk up a little and she sat up straight in her seat, whereas before she was slumped down like she'd rather be any other place than here. I couldn't blame her.
"Thank you, Mr. Volson. Next?" His eyes turned to the next person. It was a girl, around seventeen, like me. She had long brown curls and pitch black eyes that looked like pools of oil.
"My name's Teaira Rogers. When I was seven years old, my uncle raped me."
This caught my attention and I was suddenly curious to know how she dealt with it. She was around the same age as me when it happened to me, except a year younger.
Around the circle we went, listening to all the teens who went through the same things as me, Jennifer, and Helena. Some were raped, some were suicidal, some were drug addicts, and some were victims of abuse. All in all, there was twelve of us. And Mr. Branson, who was also a victim of abuse when he was little.
After the group departed after an hour, Helena was still sitting in her chair, knees brought up to her chest. Tears were welling up in her eyes and I wondered if she was thinking about her sister, Heather. I didn't know if she was like this the whole hour or not because I was caught up in my own train of thought. Thinking about the other kids and what they went through. How they related to me in ways. Helena's long blonde hair was hanging in her eyes and she was surprised to see me standing there.
"You okay?" I asked. She nodded her head and slung her zebra backpack onto her back.
"I'm fine. It's just my reason for suicide is nothing compared to all these other kids. I just noticed how stupid I am. Looking back on everything that's happened in my life, I feel like the attempts of suicide were a waste of my time and I was stupid to even try."
"You're not stupid. You're just upset and confused. Afraid," I shrugged. "Like I am."
She nodded her head, so I guess she got it a bit. But, something in her eyes said that she didn't believe it. She really believed that she was stupid.
"You get where i'm coming from?" I asked.
"Yeah, I do. Thanks. Um, what's your name again? Alexis?"
"Alexandria. But like that Jenny girl said, call me Alex for all I care." I threw up my hands and smiled.
I headed back through towards the front of the building to head outside to meet my mom. I really was feeling hot with my brownish-black hair smothering my neck. I stopped in the middle of the hallway and flipped my hair over, and I probably looked stupid doing it. I wrapped my lime green ponytail holder around my hair and tightened it. It was so tight that it felt like my hair was going to fall out, but that's how I liked my ponytail.
Mom was waiting for me outside in her blue Subaru. Through the windshield, I could see she was applying makeup in the mirror. I scrunched my face up, clearly because my mom didn't need makeup and it looked weird on her. I tried to pull at the handle of the car, but it was locked. I knocked on the window and mouthed to her, "Unlock the door!" She quickly got the sign and reached over to unlock the door. I hopped into the passenger seat and shut the door.
"How was it?" Mom asked.
"Didn't really do any good," I muttered.
"Well, it's only the first meeting. You'll lighten up within a few weeks."
"Mom, I agreed to go to this one meeting. I never agreed to going every Tuesday," I pointed out. "Can we just go home now?"
Mom just looked at me with sympathy in her eyes, which I didn't want.
"Mom, don't look at me like that."
"Okay, okay, we'll go home." She started the car and backed out of the parking lot. Within ten minutes, we were home. Good thing we didn't live that far away.
My home was an old victorian style house that had been remodeled. It was white and had a screened in, octagon shaped back porch and a cobblestone foundation. It was beautiful and I especially loved the bay window in my room. It was my favorite spot to be. You can see the whole town from there. Bentley's ice cream shop, Wal-mart, Ryan's, Hibachi Grill, etc., all because my house was on a giant hill.
I usually sat in my bay window and read a book. I absolutely adored Edgar Allan Poe, so I read alot of his stuff.