Heavy

You could smell licorice, popcorn and coffee. People, kids I guess, all seated, waiting. I didn't know if they were waiting for me, their parents or Carol Jefferies. I sat, next to this girl with coal colored hair, she smelled like fresh nail polish.

"October?" A tall woman with short chestnut brown hair called to me.

She was standing, I stood, all eyes on me. "Y-yeah." I stammered; I hate people looking at me.

"Follow me, dear."

She opened a door, letting me follow behind her. Inside, there was a black desk, no computer, only pictures, files and papers. There was a knick knack; a fake, plastic, pink brain, "Have a seat." She said to me.

I sat in the chair across from her desk. She gave a small content sigh, I crossed my leg over my right one. She smiled, interlacing her fingers on her desk.

"How are you October?"

I absolutely hate when people say my name in every sentence they speak.

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"Quite alright. I must say, I like your name."

I raised my brow slightly, "Why?"

"It's different. Is there a story behind it?"

"My parents were both born in October." I told her; it's the truth; my mother thought this was a sign that her and father are soul mates.

"That's nice. Do you get along with your parents?"

"Define get along." 

Carol Jefferies looked stumped, just like Mrs. Mel had. "Do you fight? Do you all talk?"

"They're never home long enough for us to talk or fight. So...I guess we get along."

"That's right, your parents are musicians."

"Just my dad, my mom is his groupie." I waved my hand off in the air.

Carol frowned, "You must be lonely."

"Eh, I guess. I have Elsa, she's nice." I smiled, mostly to myself.

"Elsa is who?"

"My nanny." 

Carol wanted to laugh, but she held back. I wouldn't have minded, a lot of people laughed in my face and behind my back, "Do you like Elsa?"

"I love her." I blurted, "She's my only friend."

Carol's smile turned down, "Oh, well, that seems nice. You two get along?"

"Like a house on fire." I explained, I looked at my nails; filthy, caked with junk.

"Do you two talk?"

I shrugged, picking at my pinky nail, "She's German, she's only been in this country for, like, 11 years, and barely learned how to drive, and she can barely speak English. I plan on helping her with that."

"That's very nice of you."

I gave another shrug, "If I couldn't speak English, I'd want someone to help me with it."

"Do you talk to her about your feelings?"

"No. She tries, she understands I hurt, and she doesn't judge me. Elsa caught me cutting once, and she told me to promise her not to go too deep...I broke my promise last week." I reflected this all in a small voice.

"Was Elsa upset with you?"

I shook my head, "She bought me a Happy Meal."

Carol smiled, "She cares about you."

"She's the only one."

"Your parents do, too."

"Perhaps, but they don't show it."

Carol hummed, "Does that bother you?"

I shook my head, "It used to, but I've grown accustom to it."

"You shouldn't grow accustom to loneliness."

"Nobody likes me, and that's no one's fault but my own. I don't want anyone to like me."

Carol just looked at me, the. She grabbed my file. She flipped through it, then set it down; "Dr. Winn said it would be good for you to speak to other kids who feel the same as you. Does that appeal to you?"

"Not at all." I told her truthfully.

"Well, October, I think it will do you some good. The group is small, about 4 kids, they're all feeling like you."

"Maybe so." I didn't have a real response. I didn't care.

"Tomorrow, we'll have introductions so you won't feel so out of the loop. For now, I'll prescribe you some anti-depressants."

I didn't care that she did this. I didn't care about anything. To me, Carol Jefferies was another, lower level sadist. Ready to kill me and then celebrate when she brought me back to life.

She prescribed me Prozac. As if that didn't scream loony already. I'd take one when I woke up and one when I went to bed.

Elsa read the label, to me, asking me all about it. I helped her with the words, helping sound them out with her.

"These make your sadness go away, yes?"

She said yes after every question...almost. It was nice.

"Yes." I answered, "Hopefully."

"Yes, hopefully." She copied my words in her light, German accent.

I took one right before I went to bed, and didn't feel any effect. My body was still the same, as well as my feelings and my head. I still hated everyone, everything and myself -but Elsa. I didn't expect a miracle. I expected a little of change, maybe.

But, I laid in my bed, staring at my bare ceiling, counting sheep. My wool blanket hot against my body, I forced my eyes closed. I needed sleep, like I needed to cut myself; but my parents confiscated all sharp objects in our house. Elsa and I would use plastic knives and forks, and we would have hairy armpits and legs until they returned to supervise me correctly. I guess they didn't trust me or Elsa; I wouldn't waste my time using a knife or tearing apart a bic razor for a tiny rush, I had some dignity.

There I go lying again.


Elsa dropped me off again, and drug my feet into the building. I found the room Carol had told me to go to, and went inside. The smell had migrated here; licorice, coffee and popcorn.

A small group was eating these things, including coffee; what teenager drinks coffee? Carol smiled as I closed the door behind me, "Group, welcome October."

Everyone looked at me, teenage faces that were new to me. I looked at each one, until I got to that face. The face that made my heart melt, my knees weak, only I didn't know it yet.

My everything. My entire world. The penicillin to my aching disease. The razor to my flaring wrist. The John Lennon to my Paul McCartney.

Gerard Way.

I sat down, having forgotten about him. See, I didn't know I was in love with him then. To me, he was just a crazy kid, locked up in this group with me. He was just another face. Another judgmental guy.

Still, I had a little, tiny, bitty feeling that he would be something more. He had this mess of thick dark hair, a pointy little nose, tired eyes, as if he had just woken up, precious, pink lips that disappeared behind a styrofoam cup, baby fat like myself, and a worn leather jacket. The James Dean to my Pier Angeli; the Comedy to my Tragedy.

"Alright, since October is the new edition to our group, why don't you all introduce yourselves."

Everyone was hesitant. Then, the girl with coal hair and the scent of fingernail polish stood up, "I'm Angelique, 17. Uh...that's pretty much it." She was pretty. Ms. Vanity.

A boy, next to her, stood up. Dark hair, tall, hunched shoulders,"Dex, 16." He looked athletic, he didn't have much of a voice. Mr. Sloth.

A girl, next to Dex, didn't move, "Mya, I'm 17, and, I still don't get why I'm here." Ms. Attitude.

Then it was his turn. Gerard Way, my everything. Only, I hadn't known it yet.

"I'm Gerard, I'm 18. I still want to kill myself." He was brutally honest, his voice was magic, it made me snap my head up and stare at him. He was too beautiful to die, like Marilyn Monroe before she got bloated and drank, and drowned in pills, herself to death, before she fell in love with Hollywood.

Carol sighed disappointed at him, "So, since we're all acquainted, who wants to start with what's been bothering them lately?"

Ms. Vanity started off about her fingernail polish. Yes, going off about not finding the right color to fit her this week. Everyone rolled their eyes, I zoned out.

"Shut the hell up." Dex growled at her, "Talk about those little marks beneath your hand, Angelique!"

Angelique turned red, "Yeah, so? I cut myself this week. And? We all do it."

"Not anymore." Ms. Attitude piped up, "It's been two weeks since I last cut."

"My parents took away all sharp objects," I said out loud, to inform them, they all looked at me, "No bics to shave, no knives to cut my bio-degradable food. Nothing."

"What about glass?" Angelique smirked, "Glass works too."

"Don't give her ideas," Gerard finally spoke, his velvet voice made me look at him, "That's low, even for you, Vanity."

He and I had the same name picked out for Angelique. I blushed to myself. I didn't know it was love then, I thought I was embarrassed, shying away.

"Whatever. What about you, Mr. Righteous? How long has it been since you cut?"

He rolled up the sleeve of his leather jacket, the sound of his worn warmth made me want to crawl inside, "Two hours." He showed us the red, puffy skin. Slowly scabbed; it made my scars itch, made me want to cut.

Break a window, dig it in my skin. Holy shit, the feeling would electrify my nerves. I was like a junkie.

"Why did you cut yourself, Gerard?" Carol asks, concern and sadness laced her voice. Like a mother cooing her injured baby.

"To make sure I was still alive. I took a bunch of Xanax last night, and I felt euphoric this morning." He laughed.

He thought this was a joke, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. I didn't think it was a joke...I didn't know what it was, really. I didn't care, I just didn't give a damn what it was.

"You think this is a joke?" Mr. Sloth asked, heavy with anger.

Gerard nods, "Yes, I do, I think my life is a joke, Dex."

Mr. Sloth, Dex, he leans back in his seat. He must've thought Gerard was laughing at him. Now that he knew Gerard was laughing at himself, he didn't care.

"When was the last time you cut?" Ms. Attitude asks me, she's sizing me up, like my mother had done to Mrs. Mel.

"A week and a half." I answered her, my skin starts to itch again, "I messed up."

"You're the girl who got expelled for almost dying in the bathroom," Ms. Vanity accused me, pointing a fake, plastic, neon pink finger at me, "Yeah, we were talking about you just the other day!"

I turned red, the blood rushed up to my cheeks. I felt on the spot.

"That was you?" Dex exclaimed.

"Yes." I answered.

"Oh, yeah." Ms. Attitude nodded, "How was that? Did you die?" Everyone began to say something, but she stopped them, "I meant, did you see something when you passed out?"

The eyes...they were eating me away. Picking at me, figuring me out.

"It was like falling asleep." I told them, "Nothing major. I didn't see God or Jesus or a white light."

"Oh...well that sucks." Ms. Vanity grumbled.

"Why are you here?" Gerard -my knight in a worn leather jacket, "Because of that?"

"Yeah." I sighed, "Dr. Winn said it'd be good for me."

Ms. Attitude scoff, stuffing her face with popcorn, from a bowl that was on the table next to her, "Good luck."

"October needs to know that she isn't alone." Carol finally spoke up, "We're all here for you."

I felt a tightness in my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. I looked away, my face flushed, I felt like throwing up.