“You’ll feel much better once you have a chance to sort out your feelings,” he assured me as we rode the elevator to the top floor of the hospital. I pursed my lips, refusing to get into a fight with him. He had never been the biggest fan of Marco and had no problem telling me how it was just the most recent in a string of bad decisions; a skill my father is certain I picked up from my mother. I’ll have to take his word for it because she took off when I was seven years old.
That was over three weeks ago and, unless my shrink was feeding me a line of shit, I’ll be getting out of here tomorrow. Not yesterday, when she broke the news to me, and not today, but tomorrow. Why tomorrow? Because now that I’m safe and somewhere that I can’t embarrass my father, he’s on vacation. And thanks to him putting me in here, I need someone to babysit me when I leave. You know, so I don’t wind up stealing anyone’s prescription painkillers the way I did once when I was seventeen. It’ll be interesting to see who he’s paying to keep tabs on me this time.
“Megaen, so nice of you to join us,” Dr. Maxwell says in that syrupy sweet voice that makes me want to punch her. She’s another thing about this place that makes my skin crawl. It’s not that Doctor Maxwell does anything questionable, it’s more the way she senses someone coming before there’s any way she can see them. “Please, take a seat so we can begin.”
The rest of the freaks are already sitting around the lounge, all staring at me. I know that might not be the politically correct way to refer to them, but it’s similar to girls calling one another “bitch” as a term of endearment. No one wants to be up here and, other than the mental issues, none of us are sick, so we don’t like being called patients. One rainy afternoon, we all decided that we’d call a spade a spade. We’re freaks in the eyes of society. For one reason or another, we’re the ones who aren’t normal. I see Trevor look away before he busts up laughing at the twisted face I make in Doctor Maxwell’s direction when she’s not looking.
If he wasn’t gay as the day is long, I could see myself hooking up with Trevor. He’s well over six-feet tall, thin in a very hipster sort of way and makes me laugh, even when all I really want to do is hit something. He got here a few days before me and, from the sounds of it, will be here for quite a while. Where I was shoved up here as a way for my father to avoid being a parent, Trevor is here because he’s completely and utterly fucked up in the head. He decided to down a handful of pills with a glass of vodka. When we first met, he wasn’t even ashamed of the fact that he was pissed about his roommate walking in shortly before Trevor checked out.
After having his stomach pumped in the spa and being fed a gourmet dinner of activated charcoal, he was brought here, to the five-star resort, for some relaxation. I told you, we’re all a little fucked up around here and have no problem finding ways to entertain ourselves, even if it’s by making it sound like we’re in a five-star resort instead of the psych ward. Because honestly, being here is just depressing, and the way I see it, that defeats the purpose of being here. If we want to leave, we’re supposed to not be depressed.
“Is it true that you’re bailing on me tomorrow?” Trevor whispers in my ear. I look over at him and he’s giving me these sad puppy-dog eyes. Is he really going to be upset with me because I’m not volunteering to stay here with him?
“So they tell me,” I respond, my tone flat. Given the choice, there’s part of me that would rather be here at this point. My father has proven, once again, that he doesn’t give a shit and I know I’m going to be stuck with some middle-aged, balding crony until I get through the outpatient phase of the program. Doctor Maxwell continues rambling on about healthy coping mechanisms, but now Trevor is far more interested in why I sound so unenthusiastic about leaving this place. Before he can pry, I hold up a hand to silence him. “Let it go, Trevor. I told you before, shit on the outside isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
At least here I have people who give a damn about me.
The good doctor doesn’t even finish her spiel at the end of our group session before I’m out of my chair, rushing down the hall to my room. It’s still dark and creepy, but I have shit to do and people to avoid. Lisa, a mousy girl with less self-esteem than just about anyone I’ve ever met kept glancing in our direction during the last half of group. I feel bad ignoring her, but she’s new around here and I’ve already allowed myself to get too close to too many people. How else can I explain the fucked up notion that it’d be better to stay here than get outside and enjoy life? It’s the start of summer, I should want nothing more than to feel the sun on my skin.
At the sound of knuckles rapping at my door, I turn to see Doctor Maxwell studying me. Seriously, she’s the one who told me I’m healthy enough to leave, so why the last-minute assessment now? “Meagan, can I have a word with you?” she asks, not waiting to be invited into my room.
“Like I could say no if I wanted to,” I respond sarcastically. Rolling my eyes, I continue pulling clothes out of my drawers, carefully packing them in my lone suitcase.