Wilted

I drummed my fingers on the wooden armrests of the chair I was sat in. Opposite of me sat James, his blonde hair was styled in that naturally dishevelled way and for some reason that hit a nerve. It felt like he was trying to be better than the people locked up in here like me. We weren’t often given things like hair products and makeup.

Though maybe it’s just my paranoid mind reading too much into it.

“Hello Katherine.” James said.

“It’s Kat.” I replied, crossing my arms in a failed attempt at a protest.

James shook his head, “No, it’s Katherine.”

I went to protest again, but he raised his hand to silence me. Something about that movement seemed to stir fear in me. The abruptness of it, how he had changed from that sweet, open minded boy at the initial meeting to what now felt like a defiant, powerful man.

But maybe I’m being paranoid again.

I chose not to respond to his blatant disregard for my name, instead sitting in silence with my arms still crossed.

“So, I have talked to your onsite doctor and he recommends one on one sessions for your CBT,” James continued, his eyes uncomfortably locked onto mine. “I think this will be best for you since you showed aggression in our group sessions.”

I raised an eyebrow, “My anger was towards you rather than the group.”

James smiled and leaned towards me from behind his desk. “Well, then I guess it’s good that it’s just you and me then.”

***

They released me after only one night, seeing that the overdose was not purposeful and was not as damaging as they initially thought. My small frame had initially scared them, but after talking to my brother they let me go, no more questions asked.

Xander took me home, tucked me into bed then went out to get food. He came back an hour later, filled my fridge and freezer with food and handing me a Mcdonalds meal to eat in bed. I sat up, head still a little light but that was probably from the lack of food in my body. I always hated hospital food.

Xander wasn’t talking much, he was passing round my kitchenette, taking a lot more time to put away the food than was needed.

“You okay?” I asked as I shoved a small handful of heavily salted chips into my mouth.

Xander sighed, and leant against the fridge, arms crossed and head tilted back. “You didn’t overdose, did you?”

I frowned, “You really think I’d do that?”

He shrugged “I feel like I’m losing who you used to be. You’ve changed so much.”

I knew what he wanted to know. He wanted me to talk about Sunnington, to talk about what dark things were in my mind, to talk about the things that made me change.

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t the same person I used to be when we were children together. I knew I looked different, the glasses, the long hair chopped short, the curves vanishing from my body and the bones appearing, but that was not what scared him. He’d changed too, he’d grown taller, more muscular, grew a dark beard, but he was still the same Xander. Still too caring, still reserved, still smart and social. He was still the big brother I remembered.

I was still angry, but it wasn’t my childish, manageable strops like before. It was deep routed, an anger at the world rather than an inconvenience. That joy I used to have had vanished too, how I wanted to be an artist or a poet, but now the thought of picking up a pen or brush scared me.

So, I stuck to my plants, because those brought more light into the world than my art ever could.