"Campbell Saunders, Anxiety and Depression, That's a lot to have on you're plate.. at" He glances down at his sheet of paper. "fifteen" I stay quiet, glancing around at the suttle room, the grey walls really brought out the grey couch and, funny enough, grey looking plants.
"Cam, you've been coming here for two weeks and you've barely spoken two words, and that's including you're name" says , setting down the small notebook he was holding.
I snorted out with a sarcastic laugh,
"You make it sound like it's my choice? I'm here because my mom makes me come and see you, I take the pills you give me and I almost never have anxiety attacks, so please, tell me again why i'm fucking here?" I spit out bitterly.
The anger inside of my boiling.
The mans face is unchanged by my outburst, his mouth forming a thin straight line, he glances down at his book, scribbling something down. fuck.
"Cam, You're mother is trying to look out for you, after what happened she doesn't want to almost lose you, again" He speaks, his voice dripping with fake pity and sorrow. My skin prickles at the mention of my unsucceeded suicide attempt.
I glance away, thinking back to a month ago when I had found myself chugging a bottle of sleeping pills and slicing my already cut arm up. I would probably be dead if it wasn't for my 'savior' of a brother Justin who broke down the bathroom door before I could take the rest of the bottle.
Note the sarcasm.
"Campbell, have you harmed yourself since the attempt?" He asked curiously, I look down at my hands, in all honesty I had, once, but i would be guaranteed another trip to the psych ward if I told him that.
"Nope" I say popping the P.
his eyebrows lifted, then he nodded his head unconvinced.
I looked at the clock and hopped up, "Times up" I say then walk out quickly.
avoiding eye contact with the other people in the lobby I jumped into the passenger seat of my brothers jeep, he turned on the vehicle when I closed the door.
we pulled out of the parking lot, starting our agonizing fifteen minute, question filled car drive.
"So, how are you doing?" Asked Justin.
"Fi-" I start. "Cam, I'm sick and tired of hearing 'fine', I'm pretty god damn sure that you're not fine!" He screeches. His face turning red.
I jump back, my eyes widening.
"Justin, I'm just not in the mood to talk?" I whisper, a lump growing in my throat.
"Well Cam, here's some news for you, if you don't start talking mom and dad will send you away! and when we get home, don't bother looking for that thing you've been using to cut yourself with because It's gone." He spits out.
Taken aback, I look over my eyebrows scrunched together. " .It" I say, my jaw clenched.
"Gone, so get over it. If you can't walk around without a simple tee shirt on then you don't need that fucking thing" He says, pulling up to the house.
Angry, I push his shoulder, but before I knew what he was doing he had grabbed my arm and pulled up the black sweaters sleeve.
I watched his face go from anger, to shock, to sadness.
"Look at that arm then think back to when those weren't on it" He whispers, dropping my arm and jumping out of the vehicle.
its funny because i can't think far enough back to when my arms didn't have cuts on them. pathetic, right.