This story is based on the song "Absolute" by the Fray.
I don't own the song, Degrassi, Munro Chambers, or all the cupcakes and kangaroos in the world.
Enjoy!
"Is this all we get to be absolute?"
"I don't really know where to start…" I began. My hands were folded together and my eyes remained on my lap. I squeezed my eyes tightly and rubbed my thumbs together. The skin on my hands had become rough, and uncomforting. I shook my head and a few strands of my lengthy black hair brushed against my eyelashes.
"Why don't you start from the beginning, then, Eli," Ms. Carroll said, glancing up from her clipboard, blue pen in hand.
She was a fairly stout woman, fresh out of grad school. I could tell that she hadn't been in the whole "therapy business" for very long. This was for two very telling reasons. First, she looked young. I wasn't the best at guessing ages, but I could tell she was younger than thirty. Second, she looked nice. Her outfit consisted of a black pencil skirt, with a black jacket on top. She also wore a light blue pinstriped blouse, and a matching bow on her head. Long story short, she was trying way too hard. I think her outfit was meant to calm me. She wasn't supposed to look threatening because she was professional and put together. Her outfit was supposed to show me that she was ready to help poor, twisted people such as myself.
Problem was, I couldn't be helped. Not after everything that had already happened. Not after what I did.
I shifted around in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. Ms. Carroll continued to stare at me from across the room, tapping that goddamned blue pen against her clipboard and licking her dry lips.
"Eli, I can't help you if you don't want to be helped."
Jesus, she was condescending. I resented her already. I twisted one of my rings around my finger and continued with my silence. The funny thing was that I wanted help. I desperately craved for this woman to possess the ability to make everything better again. That power however, resided with one person and one person only. And that person was not speaking with me at the moment. How could I blame her? I had basically done everything in my power to make her hate me. I really was messed.
"Fine," I resigned with a smirk, "But you better get that pen of yours ready for one hell of a story."
Ms. Carroll gave me a small smile, pressed her pen to the page, and the words began to spill.