Mission: Chaos Hearts.
Chapter 3.
“So, who would like to talk about their day first?” Diana, the leader of the group, looked around the ten kids all positioned in a circle. I raised my hand when she got that desperate look on her face, making me feel guilty.
“I got a slushie dumped on me,” I stated.
“And I got thrown in a dumpster,” Nate added. Diana looked at us.
“What happened?”
“Jocks being jocks,” I said simply. “Seriously, they treat everyone that isn’t a jock like dirt. They’ve spit on me, dumped things on me, pushed me around, called me names. Hell, they treat me like my mother used to.” I got real silent after that.
My mother isn’t something I exactly like to talk about. She wasn’t around a lot, and when she was, she wasn’t exactly nice to me. I always tried extra hard to be good, so she wouldn’t be mad at me, but she always was. She never liked me, and when I was little, I couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand why she never wanted me. Then, one day, she left and didn’t come back. I don’t exactly remember what my dad told me, but I was crying to him that it was my fault she left.
“Ivy?”
I was shaken from my thoughts and I looked up to see Diana staring at me intently.
“Would you like to tell the group what you’re thinking about?” she asked in her small voice. I sighed and took a second.
“When my mom left. I always thought it was my fault. That I had done something terribly wrong. She called me names, and treated me like the jocks do, so I’d try harder to be perfect, but it never worked,” I told them, staring at the floorboard in front of me.
“But it wasn’t.” It wasn’t the voice I expected. It was Nate. He hardly talked to me during group.
“Nate, would you like to elaborate?” Diana smiled at him. Nate nodded and leaned forward.
“Ivy, it wasn’t your fault. Some people just weren’t fit to be parents, and they freak out. Your mother didn’t want you, but it wasn’t because of anything you did, it was because she wasn’t fit to be a parent. You have to stop blaming yourself,” Nate told me. I looked at him, and nodded slowly in agreement.
“Nate, you could just as easily apply the same thing to the way your father treated you,” Diana pointed out.
“But Ivy’s mother wasn’t an alcoholic who beat the crap out of her.”
“So? He wasn’t fit to be a parent, Nate. He only saw you as a punching bag, and not as a son. Nate, does that sound like a fit parent to you?” I smiled reassuringly at him.
“Well, no,” Nate mumbled. I nodded. Diana took that moment to inject her daily assignment into the conversation.
“My assignment for you guys, due next session, is a letter. To the person who hurt you most,” she told us. Nate and I exchanged glances, and one girl, Farah, shouted, “But Diana! With all this stuff we have to do with school, when will we have time?”
“You’ll find it, and it won’t take that long,” Diana reassured. Then, one by one, we all left the room.
“I got a slushie dumped on me,” I stated.
“And I got thrown in a dumpster,” Nate added. Diana looked at us.
“What happened?”
“Jocks being jocks,” I said simply. “Seriously, they treat everyone that isn’t a jock like dirt. They’ve spit on me, dumped things on me, pushed me around, called me names. Hell, they treat me like my mother used to.” I got real silent after that.
My mother isn’t something I exactly like to talk about. She wasn’t around a lot, and when she was, she wasn’t exactly nice to me. I always tried extra hard to be good, so she wouldn’t be mad at me, but she always was. She never liked me, and when I was little, I couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand why she never wanted me. Then, one day, she left and didn’t come back. I don’t exactly remember what my dad told me, but I was crying to him that it was my fault she left.
“Ivy?”
I was shaken from my thoughts and I looked up to see Diana staring at me intently.
“Would you like to tell the group what you’re thinking about?” she asked in her small voice. I sighed and took a second.
“When my mom left. I always thought it was my fault. That I had done something terribly wrong. She called me names, and treated me like the jocks do, so I’d try harder to be perfect, but it never worked,” I told them, staring at the floorboard in front of me.
“But it wasn’t.” It wasn’t the voice I expected. It was Nate. He hardly talked to me during group.
“Nate, would you like to elaborate?” Diana smiled at him. Nate nodded and leaned forward.
“Ivy, it wasn’t your fault. Some people just weren’t fit to be parents, and they freak out. Your mother didn’t want you, but it wasn’t because of anything you did, it was because she wasn’t fit to be a parent. You have to stop blaming yourself,” Nate told me. I looked at him, and nodded slowly in agreement.
“Nate, you could just as easily apply the same thing to the way your father treated you,” Diana pointed out.
“But Ivy’s mother wasn’t an alcoholic who beat the crap out of her.”
“So? He wasn’t fit to be a parent, Nate. He only saw you as a punching bag, and not as a son. Nate, does that sound like a fit parent to you?” I smiled reassuringly at him.
“Well, no,” Nate mumbled. I nodded. Diana took that moment to inject her daily assignment into the conversation.
“My assignment for you guys, due next session, is a letter. To the person who hurt you most,” she told us. Nate and I exchanged glances, and one girl, Farah, shouted, “But Diana! With all this stuff we have to do with school, when will we have time?”
“You’ll find it, and it won’t take that long,” Diana reassured. Then, one by one, we all left the room.