Bare Bones.

I packed all my clothes into the small dresser that was next to my “writing or drawing” desk. I didn’t have much space so most of my shirts ended up with my jeans and most of my panties and bras ended up with my pajamas. It would have to do. It was really the only thing I could bring besides my iPod and its charger. Even that was a stretch seeing as I could strangle myself with it. But they let it pass, thank God. Without my music I was basically committing suicide then.

I had a little bit of time to sit on the bed, which felt more like a cot, to listen to some music before being fed to the wolves. This group session shit was going to be the worst part of being here. I didn’t owe anyone here an explanation for what I did. I’d just sit there and listen to the others pour their guts out. The only positive thing out of this entire situation was Dr. Blake. I liked him. There was just something about him; more than what meets the eye—and speaking of eyes, his were astonishing. I just couldn’t bring myself from staring at them or him for that matter. I needed to stop. He was in his forties, possibly married or seeing someone. He was also my therapist. I needed to stop.



It was time for group. I saw others my age—girls and boy. They seemed lost walking amongst each other. I managed to find a small group of girls that were together, talking away like they were in school, not a mental institute. One of them noticed my existence and waved. I politely waved back, and soon all three of them were staring at me. But before any of them came over, which I was sure they were going to do, Dr. Blake appeared from around the corner, wanting to talk privately. My heart raced like a horse on the track; alone time with him sounded nice. I’d rather talk without the mushy gushy stuff such as feelings.

“Sure.”

I replied, following him eight feet or so down the corridor, where his office was. We entered and he closed the door. He strode over to the front of his desk, where he sat against it crossing his arms.

“I just wanted to talk privately before group; get to know a little bit about you, and for you to get to know me too. Make this whole thing feel more…comfortable.”

I nodded, and took a seat across from him. It really was hard to feel comfortable being under his gaze; I kept my eyes on my hands, feeling his burn into the top of my skull. I was speechless and didn’t know what to say. But I guess anything would suffice.

“I enjoy music…”

He perked up, his eyebrows rising.

“That’s a start. What type of music do you listen to?”

I crossed my leg over the other, adjusting myself into the seat.

“Oldies. Not today’s shit that passes for music. I enjoy the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. Only the rock from 80’s do I enjoy. Everything from then on has been complete crap.”

He let out a chuckle, licking his lips.

“Yeah. I don’t know what the kids these days are thinking. Do you have any favorites? Artists I mean.”

I nibbled on my bottom lip.

“Johnny Cash. He’s my idol. My dad likes Frank Sinatra, so him as well. And Creedence Clearwater Revival.”

He leaned forward a bit, like he was interested in hearing more.

“If I named them all, we’d be here all day.”

His eyes locked with mine.

“That’d be okay with me.”

My heart, which was beating like a drum before we got in here, felt as if it was about burst out of my chest. It was such an intense moment, that when one of the nurses came in, I was relieved.

“Dr. Blake, everyone’s waiting for you.”

He straightened himself out, pushing off from the desk fixing his tie.

“Thanks Hanna.”

She smiled, nodded her head and left us alone.

“We should get going. I’m sure the others are eager to meet you.”



In that instant I wanted to grab her. Trace my lips over her perfectly structured jawline. If Hanna hadn’t walked in I wasn’t sure what I would have done. I needed a grip.
Snap out of it Robert. She’s not only your patient but she’s seventeen!

I couldn’t help but admire her backside as she went into the group room first. I wanted to slap myself right then and there. If I was going to make it through group, I needed to sit as far from Bryn as I possibly could.

“Everyone, this is Bryn Morgan. She will be with us for a short bit, but I want her to feel as close to home as she can.”

Everyone’s eyes were on her. Whispering broke out like a plague. I could just imagine what she was thinking. I hated to put her on the spot, but everyone in this room went through it.

“We’ll start today’s session off by everyone reintroducing themselves. So anyone is free to stand up first and start.”

I took the seat closest to the window, farthest from Bryn. I wanted to sit right by her, but knew that was the worst thing I could do considering my mental state and thinking. She was seated next to Carnie Moore, the redhead who set fire to her room. Being burned alive sounded better than living another moment in the same house with her abusive step father and drunk mother.

The first person to stand was Kylie Cummings. She was in here for stabbing a girl at school just because she took the last pudding cup. After it all happened she acted like none of it had happened. She still ate the pudding dispite.

“I’m Kylie. I’m 16 and I’m a psychopath. So I’m told.”

The blonde sat back down and it was McKenzie Denning’s turn.

“I’m McKenzie, preferably Kay. I’m in here because my dad couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

I was so proud of my group at how nonchalantly they stated their problems…

Sarah Thompson went, announcing her “slight” schizophrenia. Carnie Moore went, and Alicia Christianson, the girl who survived two suicide attempts. The first was the attempt to hang herself, and when that failed, she took her dad’s antique razor and slit her throat. Neither of the two endeavors worked. Her being here was a miracle and a sign from God.

It was Bryn’s turn. I felt nervous for her. But I was ever so curious to hear what she had to say.

“I’m Bryn Morgan. I tried to slit my wrists.” She held up her arms to reveal the bandages. She sat back down and the group was quiet. It was Sarah Thompson that broke the silence.

“Why?”

A solemn look enclosed her façade. Bryn seemed to search for the answer. I waited, wanting to know more than Sarah. This was her first step.

“Because I couldn’t deal with my fiancé’s death.”