Collin
~
I'm woken up by the sound of the med cart rolling into my room.
"Good morning, Collin," Nurse Penny enters cheerfully. "Sorry to wake you." Is she really, though?
"'S'fine," I mumble, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"Alrighty, we have breakfast and your medication!" Her cheery tone makes my head throb. She hands me the cup full of the two pills I have to take along with a clear solo cup full of water.
I take both, knocking back the pills and letting the icy cold water wash them down.
"What's for breakfast?" I ask, noticing there's no food on her tray.
"Well, why don't you go to the cafeteria and find out. It's only nine now, and breakfast is over at noon." She explains. Right. I have to be social to eat. Yay me.
I sigh grumpily. "You know, forcing someone to be social doesn't make them extroverts."
Penny just smiles, shrugging. "I don't make the rules, Collin. Besides, no one said you had to talk to anyone. You could just eat alone."
"Mm-hmm," I hop out of bed and pull on a black hoodie.
Penny starts to walk out the door before turning to me. "Group therapy is in the C Room at one o'clock. Don't miss it." She shuts my door and leaves me in an even worse mood than before.
Usually, the group therapy I get put into focuses on managing depression and the "low-lows." It always fucks up my head because how many of us can be so fucked up? Sure, it helps with the not feeling alone thing, but it also makes you feel so fucking empty because all these helpless kids are just drowning in their heads.
I glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance. My hair is a mess of unbrushed waves on top of my head, prompting me to pull up the hood on my oversized black hoodie. My grey sweatpants touch the floor as I grab my toothbrush, brush my teeth in the communal bathrooms, and get ready for the day.
I stroll to the cafeteria for breakfast, noticing the long line formed. This always reminds me of high school, which is worse than being here.
I opt for the side of the cafe with no line, which has a wide selection of bagels and cereal. I take a plain bagel, slather on some cream cheese, and sit far away from everyone at the end of a table.
I notice Trevor nursing a big bottle of water and picking at his pancake as if it will make him sick. Honestly, it probably will, from what I've heard about withdrawal.
Don't go over there. Don't go over there.
I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to "get better," as far as my parents know, and that's it. There's no use in attaching myself to people just as messed up as I am. But fuck, he looks so sick and lonely, and I'm kind of lonely too.
I get up and sit in front of Trevor. "Hey, man." I greet.
He lifts his head from resting on the table and attempts to smile. "Hey,"
"You don't look too good," I say honestly.
He laughs. "Yeah, I know. Don't do drugs, I guess."
"No offense, man, but shouldn't you be in rehab or something?" I ask.
He takes a sip of water, his hand violently shaking the entire time. "I am, technically. Rehab sent me here since they said I'm in danger to myself or whatever. I guess there are other drug addicts here too. I go back to rehab after, like, a week or something."
"Oh, cool. Sorry for all the questions. I just thought you might wanna talk or something. Get your mind off the pain and all."
He waves his shaky hand dismissively. "Nah, man, you're good. What're you here for anyway?"
"Tried to off myself," I say bluntly.
Trevor's eyes widened as if he didn't expect my honesty. He recovers quickly, though. "Ah, shit. Sorry man. Depression? Shit sucks."
I nod. I like this guy. "It does indeed suck."
"Well, I always be in here or the TV room watchin' whatever they got on TV. I think I've seen every episode of Full House at this point."
"Not a terrible way to spend your time here," I joke. We continue talking and getting into our favorite movies and shit. Small talk keeps us entertained until noon, when breakfast is over. They kick us out of the cafeteria to clean, and Trevor and I head our separate ways.
I have an hour before group therapy, so I decide to unpack my suitcases in an attempt for this room to feel a little less cold. It doesn't work, though, because even with my clothes in the closet and my favorite books on the shelves, I still feel like I'm in a jail cell. The thick steel bars covering my window don't help either.
I pace around my room, attempting to stall before this stupid crap I'm being forced to do. Who thought of this anyway? Throwing a bunch of kids into a circle to talk about why they want to kick rocks. Brilliant.
I'm slowly strolling towards the C Room by the time one o'clock rolls around. I brought my new film camera, tucking it into the pocket of my hoodie in case inspiration struck me.
When I finally walk into the room, maybe ten kids are sitting in chairs placed in a circle, so we're all forced to look at each other. I huff with annoyance and sit in the chair closest to me.
There's an older-looking woman who I assume will be running the meeting. I look over all the people in our group, careful not to stare.
I'm one of the only guys other than the shaggy-haired blond zoning out on the carpet and an Asian guy with thick black glasses and a shirt that's way too tight.
Directly across from me is a younger girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She's small and frail-looking, her long blonde hair hanging down almost to the floor. Beside her, though, is what really catches my eye.
The girl from yesterday, the one I saw at the check-in with her parents, is picking anxiously at her nails, kicking her leg back and forth. She is hot as fuck, even with the disheveled hair and far too pale skin that showcases her dark circles. In fact, I think all those things make her even more attractive.
She must sense me staring because she looks up, her eyes finding mine almost immediately. They're green, maybe blue, but more than that, they're so sad. Possibly the most emotion I've ever seen through someone's eyes.
We both look away, and I start fidgeting in my seat, playing with a loose thread on my hoodie.
"All right, I think that's everyone," the older woman says. "Hi everyone. My name is Dr. Cambree, but you can call me Janelle."
Janelle explains the point of this whole thing, but I've already tuned her out. I stare out the window, watching the trees blow with the wind. This is one of the only rooms without bars covering the windows. It's probably because it's on the first floor, and no one is in here unsupervised.
Janelle keeps talking, but all I hear is incoherent mumbling. They can force me to go to this shit, but they can't force me to pay attention.
The kid next to me starts sharing his life story, gathering some of my attention. She better not be expecting me to share.
I feel eyes on me, so I look up and notice the girl with sad green eyes looking at me again. I raise my brow as if asking her what's so interesting, but she just smirks and looks away.
Confident. I like it.
The boy beside me wraps up his story, and Janelle looks at me next. "What?" I ask dumbly.
"Would you like to share next?" Her voice is soft and polite, almost comforting.
"Um, if I have to?"
She shakes her head slowly. "No one has to speak, but I strongly recommend it. You can say as little or as much as you're comfortable with."
I sigh, clearing my throat before introducing myself. "Hey. I'm Collin. It's my second time here 'cus I tried to swallow a whole bottle of pills. You know, as one does." A few kids laugh at my sad attempt at a joke.
"Yeah, um, I don't really know what else to say," I mumble, looking back to Janelle for any kind of help.
I tug on the sleeves of my hoodie as she looks at me kindly. Her brown eyes are warm, with a twinkle in them that is missing from most of the kids in this circle. "Do you regret taking all those pills, Collin?"
I think about it for a second before answering. I chose to answer honestly. "Not really. All I really regret is that my mom found me before I could finish them." Some kids look shocked; some nod their heads like their story is similar. Janelle keeps a calm look on her face, a sad smile forming.
"Well, I'm certainly glad you're here, Collin. What types of things make you glad you're here? This can be a question for everyone. Just shout them out."
"Cigarettes," someone says quietly. I watch as the sad-eyed girl melts into her seat with a smirk. Ah, so she has a cigarette habit.
"Video games," another kid shouts. People start rattling off things they like, and I just sit there, listening, wracking my brain for something I could say.
"Books," I say confidently. It's all I could really think of, but I guess it's good enough because Janelle smiles at me.
A few more kids start sharing their stories, and suddenly my hands are the most exciting thing in the room. That is until the sad-eyed girl starts talking next.
"I'm Margo July. This is my... seventh time here? Maybe eight. I don't fucking know." She sighs, kicking her foot back and forth anxiously.
"Margo, don't cuss, please," Janelle says, her voice soft and void of anger.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "Anyway, I'm bipolar, and my parents don't like to deal with me, so I keep ending up here. That's all I gotta say."
Margo slouches into the chair as if it will swallow her whole. She lifts up her hood and looks down, clearly regretting what she said.
After another hour, the session is over. Margo was silent the rest of the time, and I think she even fell asleep for some of it.
I walk slowly out the door, dragging my feet towards the common area. Maybe Trevor wants to watch Full House or something.
The couch is empty, though, and reruns of Friends play for no one.
I like the scene, the loneliness of it all, so I snap a picture on the film camera.
"You're a photographer? Wouldn't have guessed." I jump at the woman's voice behind me.
I turn to face the culprit. It's Margo, her bright green eyes looking at me. Her skin is perfect and pale, her hair a dark contrast as it flies all around her face. There are freckles all over her cheeks and a small scar just above her right eyebrow. She has a hole on her left nostril where a piercing may go, but when we're in here, no jewelry. Her lips are pale pink, chapped, and nearly peeling. Her eyes are barely open, accompanied by dark circles underneath.
I clear my throat, trying to remember what she had said. "Um, no. I just kind of found this here." I shrug, waving the camera around.
"Oh, well, maybe you should be. What are the odds you find a camera at your healing space? Could be a sign from the universe." She says, waving her hands around as if she's impersonating a witch.
I laugh, studying the camera in my hands. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
She looks at me curiously. I avoid her eyes at first, the sadness in them almost too intense. Once our eyes connect, she smiles and pulls the camera from my hand.
She winds the film and flips the camera to face her, smiling as she snaps a picture. She hands it back to me.
"There you go,"
I take it apprehensively. "Uh, thanks, I guess?"
"Take care of that. It's the last time I'll ever be this exact person at this exact moment." Everything she says sounds so elusive. Mysterious, even.
I don't know what to say, so I just smile. "See you around, Collin."
I watch as she twirls on her leg, her thick brunette waves bouncing with her as she walks.
She's confident, but almost like she doesn't know what the word insecure means, not like she's trying to be confident.
She's disappeared into one of the rooms now, but the thought of her still remains, and yet part of me feels like I'd imagined her.
Sometimes people's energy radiates off of them. Margo certainly is one of them.
I sigh, plopping down onto the couch. So much for avoiding everyone here.