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The next morning- a Monday- we, the large group of the depressed and suicidal, had another meeting with Mr. Pinscher.
“Alright. I thought we could start our exercise today with Cooper. Are you willing to participate, Coop?”
“…”
“Coop? You do remember what happened last time you didn’t answer. Zzpt!”
That bastard. Was he really threatening her directly?
She looked up at him.
“Hey, friend, how’s your face?”
Everyone now had their eyes on Sunny’s face. (‘Tis a good nickname for him I think, he had a huge shiner on his left eye. Nice and smoothly black all around)
“Good, thanks. Cooper, how’s your head?”
“Lovely. Sometimes I have to clean it before I go to bed, though, ‘cause it bleeds on the pillow a bit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now, let’s go with the previous question: What are some of your talents?”
“I thought it was, ‘what are your likes/dislikes’”
Oh shit, not again.
“Maybe I’m wrong.” His eyes glinted. Dangerous.
Thankfully, Cooper realized she really had no choice. Not here anyways.
“Maybe. Anyways, I really don’t know if I have a talent. What about you, Mifflin?”
Whut?
I was caught off guard.
“Um, I can sing. You, Sunny?” Oops. Didn’t mean to let that slip.
“What did you call me, Mifflin?” Ha, you can’t shorten my name, bastard.
“Nothing, nothing. So, any special talents?” I tried a conversational voice.
“I’m pretty sure you let something slip, Miffy” Okay, that right there ticked me off.
“Nothing, Sunny. Now, any special talents?” As we saw physical abuse not going anywhere, let’s try verbal.
His eyes gave off a dangerous glint again.
“No. Only one, but it’s more of a hobby. You see, Miffy, I’m what you might call a knife specialist. I carve with them, I throw them, and I can even make them. I’ve won a few awards here and there in a few competitions. Anyone else want to go?”
Sure as hell, no one said anything.
The rest of the ‘therapy’ session went normal, kids speaking a few sentences at a time for the rest of the morning. When we were finally released, it was lunch.
As I was walking with my new group to the table, The Director called for me.
“Mifflin McJackly, The Director wants to see you.” A boy who looked scared shitless came up to the table.
I looked back at my friends.
No one said anything, they just wore an ‘its okay, you may not be as fucked as we all think you are’ face. Except Jack, who looked anticipated. Bastard.
“Coooommiiing!” I said obnoxiously.
Hope to hell I piss off some wardens while I'm still here and alive.
“Alright. I thought we could start our exercise today with Cooper. Are you willing to participate, Coop?”
“…”
“Coop? You do remember what happened last time you didn’t answer. Zzpt!”
That bastard. Was he really threatening her directly?
She looked up at him.
“Hey, friend, how’s your face?”
Everyone now had their eyes on Sunny’s face. (‘Tis a good nickname for him I think, he had a huge shiner on his left eye. Nice and smoothly black all around)
“Good, thanks. Cooper, how’s your head?”
“Lovely. Sometimes I have to clean it before I go to bed, though, ‘cause it bleeds on the pillow a bit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now, let’s go with the previous question: What are some of your talents?”
“I thought it was, ‘what are your likes/dislikes’”
Oh shit, not again.
“Maybe I’m wrong.” His eyes glinted. Dangerous.
Thankfully, Cooper realized she really had no choice. Not here anyways.
“Maybe. Anyways, I really don’t know if I have a talent. What about you, Mifflin?”
Whut?
I was caught off guard.
“Um, I can sing. You, Sunny?” Oops. Didn’t mean to let that slip.
“What did you call me, Mifflin?” Ha, you can’t shorten my name, bastard.
“Nothing, nothing. So, any special talents?” I tried a conversational voice.
“I’m pretty sure you let something slip, Miffy” Okay, that right there ticked me off.
“Nothing, Sunny. Now, any special talents?” As we saw physical abuse not going anywhere, let’s try verbal.
His eyes gave off a dangerous glint again.
“No. Only one, but it’s more of a hobby. You see, Miffy, I’m what you might call a knife specialist. I carve with them, I throw them, and I can even make them. I’ve won a few awards here and there in a few competitions. Anyone else want to go?”
Sure as hell, no one said anything.
The rest of the ‘therapy’ session went normal, kids speaking a few sentences at a time for the rest of the morning. When we were finally released, it was lunch.
As I was walking with my new group to the table, The Director called for me.
“Mifflin McJackly, The Director wants to see you.” A boy who looked scared shitless came up to the table.
I looked back at my friends.
No one said anything, they just wore an ‘its okay, you may not be as fucked as we all think you are’ face. Except Jack, who looked anticipated. Bastard.
“Coooommiiing!” I said obnoxiously.
Hope to hell I piss off some wardens while I'm still here and alive.
♠ ♠ ♠
Nah nah nah, jet lag sucks. its now 4 am in the morning. which is ironic cause im posting the fourth chapter. jeez, half brain dead now and my kitty is purring her face off in my lap. and, of course, i have 20 Dollar Nose Bleed in my head and I cant hear it cause my ipods in the airport in London. sigh. therefore, head radio.other than that, the weathers fine and my kitty had kittens <3
Comment and tell me it doesnt suck for my ego! Looooovveee Gia