Status: story in progress.
Love Letters & Suicide Notes
Prime Paranoia
I saw them down there the next morning before group, too—same raucous laughter and everything, but the smoke smelled like burnt plastic and pen ink, not the skunky smell I remembered when my friends smoked weed at high school parties. I brushed it off and went to group alone, not really surprised when I saw Cal and Ryder’s seats empty. I asked Ellie if she knew where they were, and she just shrugged.
“They went to the gazebo this morning,” she said in that sweet southern drawl. “I never go with them, so I don’t really know.”
With no other choice but to accept her answer, I nodded and sank back into my seat as Dr. Emerson came in and took his seat. He set his clipboard on his lap and glanced to the empty seats, and I knew he was thinking the same thing that I’d been five seconds ago, but he didn’t get a chance to ask because Cal and Ryder came striding right in. Ryder’s hands were shivering at his sides, and his shoulders jerked as he sank cautiously into his plastic seat on the other side of the circle. His eyes darted around like he thought he was being watched, and he breathed loudly, as though he was consciously trying to control his lungs from moving too fast.
Cal, looking absolutely normal and in-control, sat down next to me and smiled as though Ryder wasn’t having a panic attack across from us. Dr. Emerson, on the other hand, was not so keen to ignore the strange behavior. Instead, he leaned forward like he always did, and his eyebrows knitted together with concern.
“Ryder?” he asked. His voice was smooth, low, and soothing. “Ryder, is everything alright?”
Ryder began tugging at his shirt and pulling it in all different directions like he couldn’t get comfortable in his own clothes. “Yeah, hey,” he said. “What’s up?” His head jerked away, and his eyes fell on the doors to the room.
“Are you feeling okay?” Dr. Emerson asked. He put his pen to the clipboard and waited for Ryder to say something worth writing down.
Ryder nodded so fast, he looked like a giant bobble-head. “Yup,” he said. “Just a little… off, I guess.”
Dr. Emerson began to scribble. “Can you tell me how long you’ve felt like this?”
“Nah,” Ryder said. He shook his head twice as fast as he’d nodded. He puffed out a couple of breaths. “Nah, man—“ He shook his head again, and he started spitting out words like he couldn’t speak fast enough. “What are you trying to accuse me of, man? What are you trying to say?”
“Ryder, have you been taking your medication?” Dr. Emerson asked, and the rest of the room was silent. Cal’s eyes were glued to his knees instead of the scene beginning to unfold in front of him.
Ryder’s hands fidgeted and wouldn’t settle in any position. “Yo, don’t talk to me, man, I said I didn’t do shit, and you’re trying to accuse me of shit I didn’t do.” His voice quivered with every breath, like he was leaking steam. His face was getting redder by the second.
“Ryder, I’m not accusing you of anything—“
Before Dr. Emerson could try to console him, Ryder leapt up and picked up his chair. He swung it toward Emerson, almost hitting poor Ellie, who immediately threw herself onto the ground to get out of the way. Ryder thrust the chair forward, barely missing Dr. Emerson before Cal leapt out of his chair and locked his arms around Ryder.
“Hey,” Cal said quietly. “Ryder, listen. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.” Ryder turned his head to Cal, and Cal nodded slowly. “You wanna go outside and have a cigarette?” It was Ryder’s turn to nod. Cal patted him on the shoulder and looked at Dr. Emerson. “We’re just gonna go outside real fast,” he said, and they were headed out the door before Dr. Emerson shook off the shock and climbed back into this chair. He didn’t say a word about what just happened. He simply carried on with group without Cal or Ryder, almost as though they’d never shown up in the first place.
“They went to the gazebo this morning,” she said in that sweet southern drawl. “I never go with them, so I don’t really know.”
With no other choice but to accept her answer, I nodded and sank back into my seat as Dr. Emerson came in and took his seat. He set his clipboard on his lap and glanced to the empty seats, and I knew he was thinking the same thing that I’d been five seconds ago, but he didn’t get a chance to ask because Cal and Ryder came striding right in. Ryder’s hands were shivering at his sides, and his shoulders jerked as he sank cautiously into his plastic seat on the other side of the circle. His eyes darted around like he thought he was being watched, and he breathed loudly, as though he was consciously trying to control his lungs from moving too fast.
Cal, looking absolutely normal and in-control, sat down next to me and smiled as though Ryder wasn’t having a panic attack across from us. Dr. Emerson, on the other hand, was not so keen to ignore the strange behavior. Instead, he leaned forward like he always did, and his eyebrows knitted together with concern.
“Ryder?” he asked. His voice was smooth, low, and soothing. “Ryder, is everything alright?”
Ryder began tugging at his shirt and pulling it in all different directions like he couldn’t get comfortable in his own clothes. “Yeah, hey,” he said. “What’s up?” His head jerked away, and his eyes fell on the doors to the room.
“Are you feeling okay?” Dr. Emerson asked. He put his pen to the clipboard and waited for Ryder to say something worth writing down.
Ryder nodded so fast, he looked like a giant bobble-head. “Yup,” he said. “Just a little… off, I guess.”
Dr. Emerson began to scribble. “Can you tell me how long you’ve felt like this?”
“Nah,” Ryder said. He shook his head twice as fast as he’d nodded. He puffed out a couple of breaths. “Nah, man—“ He shook his head again, and he started spitting out words like he couldn’t speak fast enough. “What are you trying to accuse me of, man? What are you trying to say?”
“Ryder, have you been taking your medication?” Dr. Emerson asked, and the rest of the room was silent. Cal’s eyes were glued to his knees instead of the scene beginning to unfold in front of him.
Ryder’s hands fidgeted and wouldn’t settle in any position. “Yo, don’t talk to me, man, I said I didn’t do shit, and you’re trying to accuse me of shit I didn’t do.” His voice quivered with every breath, like he was leaking steam. His face was getting redder by the second.
“Ryder, I’m not accusing you of anything—“
Before Dr. Emerson could try to console him, Ryder leapt up and picked up his chair. He swung it toward Emerson, almost hitting poor Ellie, who immediately threw herself onto the ground to get out of the way. Ryder thrust the chair forward, barely missing Dr. Emerson before Cal leapt out of his chair and locked his arms around Ryder.
“Hey,” Cal said quietly. “Ryder, listen. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.” Ryder turned his head to Cal, and Cal nodded slowly. “You wanna go outside and have a cigarette?” It was Ryder’s turn to nod. Cal patted him on the shoulder and looked at Dr. Emerson. “We’re just gonna go outside real fast,” he said, and they were headed out the door before Dr. Emerson shook off the shock and climbed back into this chair. He didn’t say a word about what just happened. He simply carried on with group without Cal or Ryder, almost as though they’d never shown up in the first place.