She's so Bright

“So why’d you do it?”

I turned to face the boy who sat down in the grass across from me.

“Why’d I do what?” I asked, doing all I could to silence the little panic alarm ringing in my head telling me not to talk to him. Or anyone.

Dr. Russo and I had been working so rigorously on getting past my condition since I was admitted to West Hills Hospital. I now had little trouble interacting with the nurses and doctors, but the other patients… they were a different story.

It was a little draining, to be honest. Being treated for depression and Social Phobia at the same time was proving to be way harder than I could have ever anticipated.

He pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of his fitted jeans and lit it up, taking a drag, “Don’t play dumb with me, Freckles. You know what I'm talking about.”

If he hadn’t been so intriguingly handsome I would have up and left. Or I would have simply not talked to him and waited till he went away. But as things were, he was gorgeous and he was the first person in here who wasn’t a staff member to talk to me. And as odd as it sounds, I had been craving some normal human interaction. Social Phobia didn’t mean I was incapable of feeling lonely. In fact, it meant the opposite. I was guaranteed to feel lonely because my condition made it nearly impossible for me to engage in human interaction.

“I’m sorry, but I really have no clue what you’re talking about,” I said, playing with the hem of my dress nervously.

I’m the only one in control of my anxiety. I’m the only one who could make it stop. I reminded myself.

He gave a chuckle and smoke poured from his mouth. “I swear everyone in here is in denial. Oh no, I don’t have a problem, there’s nothing wrong with me, I shouldn’t be in here. Blah blah blah. It’s funny though. Because I supposed that’s why we’re all in here. We don’t see fault in ourselves. We all think we’re okay. Which is majorly fucked up, because we’re all fucked up. Or maybe we’re not. Maybe we’re what normal is, but everyone else just keeps telling us otherwise. Now that’d be fucked up. Don’t ya think? God, I hate it in here. My mom had my pops lock me up in here. Said I was a danger to myself. Which I don’t think is even possible. It’s my body; I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to it, yeah? Probably explains why I light one of these up at least five times a day.”

I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was I could watch him talk for hours. His face displayed an array of emotions as he prattled on. His eyes lit up with excitement. He talked with his hands, too. He was a very animated person. He seemed so alive. So unlike everyone else locked up in here. He had me completely captivated.

“Anyway,” he continued, “You never answered my question.”

“I don’t know what your question was,” I told him, gazing at his beautiful mouth as he placed the cigarette between his lips.

I was surprised I was able to look somewhere else other than the ground.

“I asked you why you did it,” he clarified.

“Did what?” I asked and looked back down at the grass.

“Why you tried to kill yourself.”



I waited until I saw John’s Jeep pull out of the driveway and down the street before I ventured into Garrett’s room.

I sat down on his bed and ran a hand through my hair, “So?”

“So what?” he shot back, acknowledging my presence.

“Now is not the time to be a smartass, Garrett,” I warned, impatience getting the better of me. “What happened?”

“Well, I told him everything,” he gave a simple shrug.

“Did you tell him about—”

He cut me off, “No, I didn’t tell him about that. You told me not to, remember? I’m not that horrible of a brother.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good, that’s all I cared about anyways.” When honestly, it wasn’t. I was extremely curious about what John had said. How he had reacted. But I hadn’t the courage to admit it.

“You wanna know what he said,” Garrett pointed out. “I can see it written all over your little face.”

He was teasing me. I turned five shades pinker and bit back a smile. I cast my eyes downward and occupied myself with playing with my sleeves as usual.

“Ellie has a crush on John,” he sing-songed.

I grew even redder. “No, I don’t.” My voice was small. Weak. Totally unconvincing.

This seemed only to rouse Garrett more. “Oh you so do! You have a crush on my best friend!”

“Shut up, Garrett,” I whined.

“Ellarie and John, sitting in a tree,” he sang and came over to me and pinched my cheeks.

“Well, this is awkward.”

This didn’t come from Garrett. And it wasn’t Trey. I looked over to the door frame and saw the culprit leaning up against it, smirking, his sunglasses perched on the top of his head. It was John O’Callghan.

Shit.