Nothing Left But Scars

Sitting in the waiting room, my arms covered in chill bumps. I didn't quite understand why they kept the room so cold. I was leaning over from the couch to pick up a People magazine when a door clicked open. I turned to face the woman.

She had on glasses with very thick, black rims. Her long, curly, red hair hung unnaturally all over her head, covering her shoulders. Her green dress flowed to her ankles, almost to the matching green Crocs she wore.

"Mindy, it's time for your session," she told me.

I rose from the ugly, blue couch and followed my new psychiatrist intro her office, doing as she instructed: to make myself comfortable.

"So, tell me what you're thinking about," she said after we had both gotten situated in our seats.

"Days in my life," I answered simply. After everything I had encountered in the past few years, opening up to a stranger would be difficult.

"Oh, I see," she mumbled, scribbling on a notepad. "Do you have a favorite day of your life?"

I thought for a moment. "That's an easy one," I answered finally, and you could tell by the look on her face that she was satisfied with my response.

----

"Let's go!" I begged. My parents were taking forever. Honestly, did we have to stop for breakfast? "This is supposed to be the best day of my life," I informed, becoming agitated when my mother rolled her eyes.

"Let's go so your daughter doesn't have a hissy fit over a boy she doesn't know while we're in public," my dad suggested.

We left the restaurant, and I slept the rest of the way to the concert. It was freezing so I was wrapped in sweatshirt I had made with Nicholas Jonas' face on it.

----

"Why is this day significant?" the shrink asked.

"Because I was in love," I snapped and skipped ahead into the story.

----

"The Jonas Brothers!" a representative from Radio Disney introduced.

I screamed at the top of my lungs when my curly haired angel stepped from behind the curtain with his brothers. He lifted a guitar and began strumming.

"So, how is everyone tonight?" Joseph Jonas called into the crowd of shrieking girls.

The theater was small, and there was no seating. Girls pushed each other, forcing themselves to the front to declare their love for each brother.

I had stopped screaming and was watching Nick silently make sure his guitar was perfectly in tune. I was shocked when he looked up and smiled at me. I smiled and waved back, believing I might pass out at any second.

Strangely and to my surprise, he waved back.

The show was everything I had hoped for. My heart sank when they left the stage. I had to wait for my mom to come in and get me, so I remained by the stage, watching girls giggling about the tear in Joe's pants that I'm sure he regrets not noticing before beginning their performance.

The theater was becoming very empty, and there was no sign of anyone I knew. I turned to leave, and as I walked from the stage, I heard a soft voice.

"Wait!" he called.

I stopped in my tracks, instantly knowing who the voice belonged to. Forcing my feet to move, I turned around to see Nicholas Jonas looking directly at me. It was difficult to form words, so I just pointed at myself with a puzzled expression and gasping involuntarily when he nodded and began walking towards me.

"What's your name?" he asked casually.

"Mindy," I told him. It was very hard to keep my voice from shaking.

"I'm Nick. It's nice to meet you." His smile made me want to melt to the floor, but I contained myself and nodded. He laughed a little. "Why are you waiting around?"

"My mother was, um, supposed to come in..." I answered. It was getting easier to speak, but thinking remained a problem.

"Oh. You want to hang out with me until she comes in?" he offered. My heart pounded faster, and I felt a mile-wide smile form on my face.

"Totally!" I told him, but I heard my mother call my name, and the smile faded. "My mom..." I said apologetically.

"I see. Well, here," Nick said as he handed me slip of paper. I took it and looked at him, wanting an explanation. He just laughed at me some more. "Read it later, Mindy," he instructed, and the way he said my name did more to me than his smile. I nodded and walked away.

---

"And what did the paper say?" my psychiatrist questioned.

I pulled the paper from the pocket of my hoodie and handed it to her. "His phone number. He told me that he had wrote it down before coming to talk to me, just in case," I mumbled. I felt the emptiness inside me burn a little more.

She handed the paper back to me and sighed. "Our session for today is over. See you next week."

I left without a word, making sure to read the name on her door as I left: Mrs. Richardson.