He was always taught from the moment he was born that it was best to push toothpaste from the bottom to the top.
It was to keep it lasting longer, since toothpaste was pretty expensive. Honestly, he considered it a pet peeve to people just push it from the middle, so he made sure he could feel the paste from the seam of the packet every time. Eric Cartman did just that, taking his red toothbrush out from his Ziploc bag, and putting a dime-sized amount on the bristles.
He looked at himself in the mirror and ignored the bags as he ran his brush underneath the faucet. It wasn't like he couldn't get sleep. The room wasn't bad, even with the uncomfortable mattress, or the constant repetition of wheels scratching the floor as the nurses paced with their carts. He was fine with that. The only problem was that he didn't like closing his eyes and resting. Since he got to Peak View, Eric refused to cave. He didn't want to fall into a routine: sleep, wake, eat, attempt to improve, eat, attempt to improve again, shower, and sleep again. He refused. Most of the other teenagers here are fine with it, but he wasn't going to fall into what they wanted him to fall into. Not here.
He glanced down and noticed more of the paste washed away, but he put it into his mouth anyways to get the grimy taste of porkchops out of his mouth. Even the food tasted artificial. Eric would kill for a bag of Cheesy Poofs, but when he went into the cafeteria for the first time three days ago, he knew they sold store-brand, and he couldn't deal with it. So, he dealt with the lousy potato chips they had, just because it was something he recognized.
The seventeen year-old finished brushing his teeth, chugged his mouthwash, and attempted to go back to his bed to see if he could get a good ten minutes of sleep before his therapy. By the time he close his eyes, he heard his alarm go off, and he would have thrown it across the room if he wasn't so tired.
Rebellion was going to be hard here.
"It felt a little cooler this morning on my way here, and I actually thought it was going to snow, so I brought my hat, my scarf, and my gloves. Turns out, it was just the breeze."
Eric tried sitting up to make it look like he was giving a shit as his therapist was explaining the drive over to the clinic. He could barely maintain it, and she talked like she purposefully slowed her voice down. He glanced over towards the other boys that were closer to her. One of them looked just as disinterested as he was, while the other one was staring at her tits. Typical.
"But I did hear we were going to be getting more snow later on in the week, so that will be interesting. Let's see how my car holds up to that."
"Ms. Jackson," an acne-faced kid said from the other side of the circle. "It snows all the time in Colorado."
"Oh, right." The therapist laughed, pushing some of her red curls behind her shoulder. "You guys have to remind me every now and then. Coming from Florida, well, we don't typically get that kind of weather."
Eric scowled at the idea of someone moving from one of the sunniest places in the states to one of its polar opposites. He couldn't even imagine living here for all of his life. If it were up to him, he wouldn't mind living in California, but then again, he wouldn't need to worry about where he'd like to stay for a while. It was going to be a while before he got out of here and felt a sliver of freedom again. He sneezed, not even attempting to cover his mouth, and the woman who barely looked like she got out of college glanced back.
"Speaking of reminders, let's all welcome Eric to the group. He's new to Peak View, so it would be good to give him a warm welcome."
Some of the other guys clapped, and some of them just glowered in his direction. He didn't blame them, he would react the same way. He tried recognizing them from any of the other dipshits he saw in the halls, but they all looked fresh.
"Your enthusiasm could be more encouraging, but it is fairly early in the morning, so it's understandable."
Eric hated the tone of her voice and wished she would shut up, but he kept his mouth closed. He didn't want to waste whatever energy he had.
"So, today we are going to be talking about a different topic that's come up before, but we didn't really go into too much detail towards." She turned her body towards a white board that was on her side of the room, and Eric had to squint to read the small handwriting as she starting writing. "We're going to be looking at ourselves from the perspective of somebody else."
She grinned and faced the group once she was done writing a question on the board. It read, Who are We to Others?
"I would like a few of you to volunteer and come up here and write something down below the question. It can be anything you want, as long as it relates to how you feels others see you from their perspective."
At first, Eric questioned why a professional in this field would ask this kind of question, when it was obvious how the patients would react, but he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see someone was standing from their seat. It was the boy who was feasting his eyes earlier. He walked over to the board and picked up the marker, taking a moment to analyze the question as though he actually cared about his answer. After a few seconds, he wrote down something and then walked back to his seat.
Eric lifted his eyebrows.
'Weak.'
Ms. Jackson sent a sympathetic glance over towards the boy, before coughing into her hand.
"Would anyone else like to contribute?"
A couple of other boys did the same thing. They walked over to the board, wrote down a couple of words, and returned to their seats. Eric just studied his chewed fingernails like they were more important. Ms. Jackson eventually rose from her seat and took a good look at the three words.
"Well, boys, it seems as though your opinions from the other people are more pessimistic than anything. I would like someone to explain why they feel this way. Roger, why don't you go first?"
Roger was the boy who wrote 'weak' on the board. He was shorter than Eric, and his face was covered by a mop of blonde hair.
"They'd always call me at in school." He muttered, barely audible.
"That's horrible, nobody deserves to be called that. You should know that the labels people put on you do not define who you are as a person. You are more than what others make of you."
Eric bit his lower lip, wanting to argue against that, but he couldn't think of the words to say. The blonde boy smiled slightly, but nothing really changed. He knew that the boy was still troubled by how others looked at him. What was this lady trying to prove?
"Richard, why don't you go next?"
Ms. Jackson asked the other two boys about their answers, and basically gave the same answers as she did to Roger. Eric shifted in his seat uncomfortably as her eyes drifted towards him, and he knew she would call him out. He tried losing her eye contact, but it was too late. She was swift, and he hated it.
"Eric? Why don't you go ahead."
Well. Might as well make it worth the effort of being here in the first place, he thought. Eric walked over to the board, and wrote two words, instead of one.
'Fuck off.'
Ms. Jackson stared at the board with a paler complexion, as Eric turned away and walked out of the room.
Maybe now he could actually catch up on some of the sleep he missed.
Eric stared down towards his cheddar soup and played with it, his plastic spoon swirling it from inside the bowl. He tasted some of it, and while it tasted a little better than the dinner from last night, he could barely stomach eating it. The sandwich wasn't much better, since the meatballs were too soggy for his taste. He knew he'd have to get used to the new food that they served, but he'd rather fill his mouth with pizza, or KFC.
"That was a pretty sick move you made back that."
The brunette raised his head as someone sat on the other side of him. It was somebody with blonde hair, like that Roger kid, only his hair was much greasier and it hung around his face. He was wearing an orange jacket, but it looked scratched up and withered. He narrowed an eyebrow as the other boy made himself comfortable.
"What?"
"My name's Kenny, by the way. I was like you, I didn't speak for shit. I just get annoyed with that lady."
This guy certainly was talkative. Eric pressed his lips together. He took a bite of his sandwich, and managed to swallow it down without much difficulty. He remembered that this boy was also in his group therapy, but he didn't notice him too much. It was almost like he wasn't there.
"You just got here, didn't ya? Well, most of the other guys here are pretty nice, so don't worry about them or anything."
"Why…are you talking to me?" Eric muttered, looking into the other boy's blue eyes. There was a mischievous light to them, like he was playing a game.
"I found you interesting. Plus, I laughed my ass off after you left the room. She was fighting to collect her words for the rest of the session."
"Really?" Eric was interested now, but only for a brief second.
"Mhm. Good thing we only have to go those sessions twice a week, otherwise I don't know what I would do."
"I just hate how it's so early in the morning." Eric said, and Kenny grinned. There were a couple of teeth missing from the front row.
"Didn't get much sleep last night?"
"The beds are so uncomfortable." Eric lied.
"They're actually pretty good, if you get in 'em real good. You have to get used to it. I know I couldn't sleep good for the first few months I was here."
"You've been here for a while?" Eric was suddenly interested. He wondered what he could have done, and why he managed to get in here, but Kenny just laughed at the response.
"We all have. Even a month feels like a while here. At least our rooms have TVs."
There was a moment of silence as Kenny opened a bag of chips. "Also, when I first got here, I didn't talk to anyone. I was mad, but now it's been a lot better."
Eric was about to say something else, but something inside of him prompted him speechless. He watched the boy in front of his eat his food, but he just stared at his sandwich while Kenny continued to talk. He spoke about the clinic, and about his time there. Eric found it too normal for someone who was in their shoes to talk about their time here like it wasn't out of the ordinary. But he didn't tell the other boy to shut up, instead he felt relaxed. Maybe this was something he needed, a person to calm his nerves.
"Who's your psychiatrist?" Kenny asked, crumpling up his bag and throwing it on the table. Eric snapped out of his distraction.
"What?"
"Your psychiatrist. The person they assigned for you?"
"Oh." Eric tried remembering what his name was, but it escaped him. "I don't remember."
"Wow. Only been a few days and you're already forgetting shit." Kenny laughed loudly as Eric flipped him off.
"It was some dude, I know, but I barely paid attention. I'll have to look at the paperwork I got before I was dropped off."
"Well, maybe it will be someone good."
Eric doubted it.
When Eric got the notification later that day that he would have gotten a package, he was surprised. He walked over towards the desk on his floor, and picked it up.
The receptionist used a knife and helped Eric with the package, and when he opened it, he found two bags of cheesy poofs, and a piece of paper. He took it out and looked over it.
'Eric,
I hope everything is going okay for you. It's been quiet without having you here, and honestly I go to your room expecting you to be there with your friends or playing a game, but it's just empty. I miss you so much, sweetie. You've been all I've thought about since you went away.
We know you're going to get better, sweetie. This experience will help you. We are still looking into your situation. I know that you have good inside of you. I just wanted to let you know I still think about you.
I love you,
Mom.'
Eric grimaced at the smudged handwriting at the signature. He took the food back with him, but he crumbled the paper and threw it into the trash.
The assigned room that Eric had to go to was in the back of the clinic, three floors above the hall where he lived. He knew he had to go the specific room, and it reminded him a lot of trying to find a class the first day of school. He looked at the paper in his hands. Room 12, Floor 3.
"Why couldn't they have just given me someone on my own floor?" He grumbled to himself as he took the elevator up to the floor. He walked towards the rooms in the back, and when he finally find where he was supposed to go, he stared at the door for a good few seconds. He didn't want to do this. A part of him wondered if he could just get away with it and go back to his room, but he knew he'd be in more shit if he just skipped. Sighing, he opened the door, and flinched when he saw a girl by the front desk.
She turned towards him, almost looking right through him.
She had long black hair that reached the dip of her back, and she wore a long-sleeved pink shirt. She had a pink cap on that barely let her bangs out.
"Hello?"
"Um," Eric paused, feeling slight irritation.
"You're Eric, right?" She grinned. "My name's Wendy, your psychiatrist assistant."
As she straightened up something in the room, she moved one of the chairs. Eric didn't know why just seeing made him feel uncomfortable, but she had this promptness that was off-putting. She seemed very different than his other therapist.
"Where's…" Eric looked down at the paper to see his name, but Wendy beat him to it.
"He should be here any moment. He went to grab some of your records and files, so it will be any moment. Why don't you go ahead and take a seat?"
Eric didn't do anything at first, but with another glance by those sharp eyes, he eventually walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. The room only had a desk and a couple of other chairs, but other than that it was mostly shelves and books. This person must have really liked to read.
"How are you liking Peak View so far?" Wendy asked, pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. Eric just shrugged.
"Not much for talking?" Wendy asked, sitting in the other seat. Eric knew it was official. She annoyed him.
"How do you think it has been?" Eric sighed.
"I'm not sure," Wendy looked carefully at Eric, causing the other boy to get slightly flustered at her zooming up to him. "You look like you haven't slept much."
"The bed's uncomfortable." He said, simply. Wendy nodded, with a disbelieving look.
"Sure."
"It is." Eric argued, and Wendy chuckled.
"Well, maybe flip to your other side or something." She guessed. Eric glared towards her, and she laughed even more at the look on his face.
"You look angry."
Before Eric could say anything, Wendy looked at the door and walked towards it.
"He's here!" She said, helping the gentleman come inside as he attempted to get the door. Eric watched as the man came inside the room.
Upon eye contact, Eric could see two green eyes behind frameless glasses, a head of red, curly hair, and a freckled face. He was tall, probably within six feet, and he was dressed in a button-down plaid shirt with dark jeans. The brunette shuddered as he passed on a brilliant smile. He wasn't sure how to feel, but as this man came in, he felt more exposed than he preferred, and he shivered at the voice that followed.
"Good afternoon, Eric. My name is Mr. Broflovski, and I will be your psychiatrist."
He reached out a hand, and Eric took it, hating how natural it felt.
"But please, feel free to call me Kyle."
A/N: Hey, guys. I uploaded this on ao3 as well, but this is my attempt at a multi-chap that is focused on Eric Cartman. Please let me know what you think. I will try to keep this updated per week, but as I am in university, it could be hard later on in the year. Once again, thank you for reading.