The Only Way I Know

At the bottom of the stairs I looked around. Ahead of me was a recption desk in front of the front door, while to my left and right were passages leading elsewhere. Unsure of where to go, I slowly walked up to the front desk, where a young blonde woman was seated.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a bored voice.

"Uh...first of all, where am I?" I picked at my fingernails self-consciously.

She pointed to a sign positioned above her head.

Welcome to Fernbrook Rehabilitation Centre.

So I was in a crazy house.

"Um...I - I was told to come downstairs." God I sounded dumb. Although she had probably seen crazier people here anyway.

She typed something into her computer. "You're Jamie Evans?"

I nodded.

"It says you're due for your first session in room seven," she explained. "Down there, first door on your left," she added on seeing my lost look.

"Uh...thanks," I said quietly. She gave me a false smile before turning back to her work. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and followed her directions. I realised how huge this place actually was.

I knocked on my designated door. A voice inside said 'Come in'.

Opening the door, I revealed what looked to be an office in front of me. The walls were painted that same beige colour, with a desk positioned at the back of the room in front of a wall covered with what looked to be certificates and qualifications.

The woman dressed in the red jumper and black skirt was seated at her desk.

"Ah, Jamie," she said graciously, getting up to shake my hand. "Please, do sit down," she added, directing to the two comfy chairs and coffee table to my left. I sat down stiffly, looking around nervously as she picked up a notepad and took her seat. Her happy, peaceful face made me feel even more repulsed. How could she be so happy? I was in a fucking asylum!

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Miss Waters. You're at Fernbrook Rehabilitation Centre to be...well...rehabilitated. Do you know what that means?

What the fuck? She was talking to me as if I was five years old. I rolled my eyes and nodded, making it plain that I was anything but happy.

"I don't need rehabilitation," I said firmly. "One, we can't afford it, and two, all I need is to be shunned out from society."

She scribbled something down, before saying, "When did you first cut yourself, Jamie?"

Outraged at having had my comment ignored, I aimed to be as unhelpful as possible.

"I dunno. When Rachel died, I think."

"I see. And who is Rachel?"

"Friend," I said shortly.

"How long did you know her before her death?"

"Dunno. Two weeks, maybe. I dunno."

"How did you meet her?"

"Through Tom."

"Who is Tom?"

"Friend." But, the thing was, was he still my friend?

"Is Tom your boyfriend?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yes? No?"

I shrugged my shoulders again.

"Do you like it in England, Jamie?"

Fuck no!

I shrugged my shoulders. She didn't seem all too bothered by my reluctance to answer her questions. On the contrary she seemed to be expecting it. She adjusted her glasses and looked directly into my eyes. I shifted in my seat and felt uncomfortable. It was like I was answering a fucking questionnaire.

"What caused you and your mother to move here?"

"My dad." I had nearly forgotten about my dad. Until then. Something in my brain clicked; was he the reason for all this? A surge of hate flowed through my veins...memories of him came flooding back...

"What happened?"

I shook my head, keeping my eyes directed towards the ground.

"I understand," she said gently. She asked me a few questions about life in Australia.

"Were you ever depressed or upset for a period of time while you lived there?"

"No."

"Did you like it there?"

"S'pose so."

"Did you have many friends?"

"Yeah."

"Did anything major happen over there, besides your parents' separation?"

"No."

She nodded again, scribbling notes down on her paper. "Well, that is all for today. Do you have any questions?"

Surprised at the sudden ending to her questioning, it took me a moment to realise what she wanted.

"How long will I be here for?"

"You will have one or two sessions everyday, and, provided you have improved, then the decision will be made as to whether you're ready to leave or not." She glanced at her watch. "Well, its about lunchtime now - the dining hall should be serving the food about now."

"Uh...thanks," I said awkwardly, trying to get out of the room as soon as possible. It took me a few minutes to find the dining hall, but when I found it I saw about fifteen to twenty kids lining up or seated at various tables. Unsure of what to do, I slowly walked up to the line and picked up a tray. I got my food and looked around tentatively. Where would I sit? I had no friends here.

I managed to find an empty table by the window, positioning myself so I could look outside. I had just begun eating when I heard a voice behind me.

"Mind if I sit here?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around, expecting to see some arrogant jerk. Instead, a lanky boy about my age greeted me. He had dark blonde hair coming down to his collar at the back, and dark blue eyes which sparkled when the light him them just right. His long thin face was accentuated by the scruffy blonde hair above his eyes. Trying not to stare, I managed a 'Yeah...sure.'

"Thanks," he said gratefully, taking the seat opposite. "How come I haven't seen you around before?"

"Came in today," I replied.

"Australian?"

"Yeah."

He smiled, his entire face lighting up as he did so. "What are you in for?"

"Depression."

"Damn."

"You?"

"Been getting in trouble ever since my mum died. And my dad kept abusing me. I've been here about a week."

"I'm sorry about your mum," I said quietly.

"It's OK. What happened to you that made you some here?" He took a sip of his drink, his startling blue eyes not leaving my face.

"I came back from a concert and found my mum unconcscious. My dad...he abused her," I added uncomfortably.

"Ouch."

"Yeah...but thats not all. We moved to London, where I made two friends. And then one of them died. And then my best friend from Australia ditched me."

Why was I explaining this all to him? I'd known him for two minutes, and yet I felt like he understood me. He was easy to talk to; he listened.

"That sucks," he said sincerely.

"And you're telling me," I muttered, picking at my food.

"Hope you don't mind me asking, but what concert?"

"Green Day," I answered, a little tentatively.

He nodded. "Nice."

I looked at him in amazement. "You like Green Day?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm more into indie type stuff though. Heard of The Dandy Warhols? They're really good...so are Muse. But, as I see it, music is an art form and everyone prefers different stuff. Whats your music like?"

"Rock, basically. I like old-school punk alot. But, My Chemical Romance are proving to be quite good."

He nodded appreciatively. "What did you say your name was?"

"Didn't. Jamie."

He smiled. "I'm Julian."

"Nice to meet you, Julian."

"Nice to meet you too, Jamie. So, I'm guessing you don't know this place very well."

"You'd be right," I said, giving a small smile.

"I can show you around...I've had my session for today, and, to be honest, this chicken looks like its been digested before."

I laughed. It was bittersweet; I hadn't laughed in days. Or weeks. I couldn't remember. But at least I'd made what seemed like a friend.

I quickly reminded myself not to get close to Julian. I'd just end up hurting him...or somehow, he would hurt me.