Chapter 2 - This is only the Beginning

"Alissa, can you tell me why you're here?" The woman in a tan jacket, with a dark shirt under it. Her pants the same color. Her hair made her look like he still belonged in the 80's. Sad, she'd look pretty with flat hair. She was about 53ish. I wouldn't guess higher, but I probably wouldn't guess any lower, either.

"Alissa?" She asked once more, like she honestly expect me to answer.

"Hm?" I mumbled, pulled my knee to my chest.

I was sitting on a big fluffy couch with dark green pillows on them. The couch matched her carpet, and her clothes color. Nice. The colors made me sick, but it's nice to know she loved matching. I know more about this chick than she knows about me, and I haven't even spoke one word.

"Why are you here?" She questioned.

Why am I here? I can answer that easily.

"Parents made me come, they woke me up, I got ready, and they drove me here. They're in the waiting room if you wanna see the reason I'm here." I said in a snaky tone, that probably pissed her off. And maybe even made her wanna jump out of her chair to choke me half to death. Not like anyone would complain.

I sat in silence for a moment, looking around her room. Her walls color matched her carpet, couch, jacket, and pants. It made me sick. How can she handle this?

"Well she's the sane one." A voice in my head mumbled.

Awh, I'm hearing voices now. Don't I feel fucking special.

Her room had a desk in the corner, it looked cool. A few plants, two big ole' fluffy chairs, and this couch. If I could steal a couch, this one would be it. Dear God, I'm in love with a couch. Can my life get anymore fucked up? I mentally sighed.

"Alissa, we can either argue, or we can get to the honest reason you're here." She told me.

How in God's right mind can this women still want me here.

Oh, her name's Debra. Thought that'd be important.

"Fine." I said. "I've had depression since I was, oh…six. I'm 15 now, you do the math. I hate my life, my sister's are whore who hate me, too. My brother's don't talk to me, I did drugs, I'm sober now. So don't your panties in a knot. It's all good." Her mouth opened slightly to comment. I cut her off. "Don't comment. You wanted to know, I'm telling you. I did drugs when I was 11, and stopped when I was 12. I'm fine now. My sister's Abandoned me when I was seven, came back for a year, and did it again. This went on till I was 10. I saw one of my sisters when I was 12, she had my Niece. Skyler. Saw her twice after that, then we stopped talking. Saw her at my brothers graduation for 5 minutes. Last time I saw her. I think that's it." I finished, and stared at her with a blank expression.

Her jaw was to the ground. Damn, overreacting much? She wanted to know, I told her. Don't ask if you don't wanna know, fuck.

Her pen fell out of her hands, and she completely ignored it. Like nothing happened. She just stared at me with her mouth gaping open. Way to make me feel like an outcast.

"I-I-I….I…Uhm…I…Erm…Well then…Uhm…I think…Uhm." She stuttered, causing me to stand up, grabbing my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

"You obviously can't help me. Thanks anyways." With that, I walked to the door, leaving the color coordinated room, that made me feel like SHE should be the one in a straightjacket, not me. And no, I'm not in a straightjacket, so stop being stupid and thinking I'm in a God damn straightjacket. I don't need to deal with ignorance from you people because I made a comment. It's called a joke, so stick it in your juice box, suck it, and get use to it.

Sugar spice and everything nice, right? Yeah, you obviously haven't met my parents. Good luck dealing with them.

"Alissa!" My mother cooed, even though it was practically a shrieking tone. I'll call it a coo for your sake.

"Yeah?" I said glancing up at her.

My family was tall, I was the smallest next to my 5-year-old baby sister. (Don't be shocked that a 5-year-old is shorter than me. If you are…then just… just stop reading, because it won't get any better.)

"How was it?" My mother squeaked almost giddy. On a scale of one to ten, she was at least a good 20.

I simply shrugged. "Fine. I just wanna get out of here." I mumbled, walking out in the winter wonderland of snow, and got into the car waiting for my parents.

I waited for around a good 30 minutes until I could happily get the fuck out of that car, let alone it was only to walk into a McDonald's because my dad had to pee, it was better than sitting in that hell-hole of a care being questioned on every ounce of shit that happened in that disgusting excuse of a room. I know this isn't the Olden days, or whatever but if my parents knew what the fuck happened in that room, my dad would bring out a belt, a belt with spikes to be exact, and beat me senseless. No, my parents aren't abusive. Unless you count the one time my dad took a box to me, but…It was once, so I'm not even gonna dwell on that. Not worth wasting my time on.

Once I got back into the car I felt my hip vibrate, which scared the living shit outta me. But, seconds later my phone started blaring 'Peacock' by Katy Perry, which sent me into a hysteria of giggles. I slid down in the seat so I could reach into my jean pocket and grab out the phone. I pulled it out ninja style, and slid it open.

1 new text

'Thank you, Mr. phone.' I thought to myself, before opening the text.

From: Sam.

Hey babe. :]

I rolled my eyes. This guy needs to leave me the fuck alone.

Go away. My phone doesn't enjoy being raped, especially when you're giving it your diseases.

I clicked 'Send' and put my phone back into pocket.

Sam. I. Fucking. Hate. Him. No, he's not my hidden away boyfriend that you all probably think is gay, because I said he was in the closet. Either way, Sam's the biggest asshole alive. 'Nuff said.

AN: :D I feel happy writing this. Sorry, Miss Lee is a bitch…xD