Chapter 2
Christian
"So, it seems like the meds have been working. The fact that I can sit here and talk like a normal guy right now felt like it was never going to happen before I came here. Finally, I'm learning who I am without all this dumb anxiety."
"Thank you, Brandon. We're certainly very proud of you and I think I speak for the group when I say that the positive changes in you are clear. Who would like to go next?"
Please don't speak for the group if it includes me. I'm happy for this fucker who can finally look another person in the eyes now, really, but why am I being forced to sit in a fucking circle and sing Kumbaya with him? Because this is group therapy for the fifteen and sixteen-year-old boys and we're all supposed to support and understand each other because chances are, we'd all be friends if we went to the same school!
This place really does not get me.
"Well, if there are no volunteers to share more progress reports, we can move onto discussing coping mechanisms. Does anyone want to share something that's been working for them?" Dr. Murphy, AKA Justin, AKA the first-gig-after-graduating, not-yet-disillusioned-and-still-thinks-he-can-save-troubled-youths group therapy leader for my age bracket. His eyes breeze right past me as he glances around the circle. Maybe he finally is getting it. The only tolerable thing about his approach is that beyond the first session of icebreakers and introductions, people only speak on a volunteer basis. Therefore, besides 'I'm Christian and I'm here because my parents sent me here,' I have never spoken in group.
"I can talk, Justin." An overly chipper kid who looks like he could use a shampoo raises his hand.
"Great, Mark. Go ahead."
"Well, I've found that recognizing when I'm depressed and just calling it what it is has been helpful. In my individual sessions, we've talked about how much the rise of social media has added to the pressure I feel to be happy all the time. I've realized that it's normal to have periods where I'm down, even with my meds working, and that's just life."
I snort. That's just life. So, why are any of us here? But apparently my internal reaction wasn't as internal as I thought, and now all eyes are on me. Oh, Jesus. "Christian, did you have something to add?" Justin asks.
"Nope."
"He's too good to talk to us mortals," Brandon mutters.
"What the hell does that mean?" I shoot back. Dude, I'm just trying to ride out my time here.
"Brandon, Christian, that tone isn't appropriate for the group setting."
"Is sitting around and judging everyone appropriate for the group setting?" Run your mouth a little more, kid, I'm begging.
"Brandon, Christian is a member of the group, too. He's entitled to his silence."
"Is he entitled to be a fucking prick who ignores everyone?"
I stand up, the force causing my chair to topple over behind me. "I don't owe anyone here anything, Brandon, but since you're dying to hear what I'm thinking, I'm real happy for you that you're not too chickenshit to be an asshole out loud now. The world is so much better." A smattering of laughter and one loud guffaw from the kid who was just speaking fills the room.
"Christian—" Justin starts, but Brandon is already out of his seat and throwing a punch at me. Like hell. I stop his fist in midair and pin his other arm in front of him. You can't fucking touch me. I hold him there for a second, watching the fear grow in his eyes, ensuring he won't lunge at me when my back is turned, then push him away just enough so I can leave.
Fuck this place.
I burst out of the building and don't stop moving until I'm at the edge of the grounds. By the time my frustrated energy cools, I've gone so far, I'm in an area I don't recognize. I might not even be on the property anymore. There's a clearing with a massive tree, probably hundreds of years old, in a meadow of wildflowers. I arrive at the edge of the tree just as my stomach growls loudly. "Fucking hell," I groan. I definitely can't go back and just waltz into the kitchen now, and I don't have anything to eat with me. Now that I'm noticing it, my stomach feels like it's gnawing at itself. It brings me back to bad times. As if this day could get any worse.
"Are you hungry?" I hear a soft voice from above.
I flinch away from the tree and look up. None other than Gaunt Girl is sitting on a thick branch not too far off the ground, holding a book, looking down at me expectantly. I just stare at her, too stunned by her presence to process that she asked me a question.
She scrunches her brow a little and reaches into the pocket of her baggy hoodie, pulling out a protein bar and a fruit cup. "You can have this if you want." She holds them out to me.
I look between her outstretched hand and her electric blue eyes, which are even more striking up close. "You don't want it?" I finally answer. She looks like someone that no one should be taking food from. Tiny as she is, she probably needs it more than I do.
She shakes her head, her face impassive. "No."
"You sure?" I check once more.
"Yes." She leans forward a little more, inviting me to take it.
Well, if it's just going to go to waste… "Okay. Thanks," I mutter, taking the food. I rip open the foil of the bar and lean against the tree again, glancing up at her. "You know, you can get in trouble for being this far out."
"You're this far out," she retorts with a surprising bite.
"I'm already in trouble," I mutter. I'll definitely be having words thrown at me when I get back.
She doesn't answer, and when I look up at her again, she's gone back to her book. I crane my neck to try and see the front cover, but it's hidden against her lap, so I go back to my food. I make quick work of the bar and then slurp up the fruit cup, compacting the trash and going to slip it into my pocket. "Could I have that?" she says softly, holding out her hand again.
"Uh… sure. Thank you… again." She nods and takes it from me, slipping it back into her hoodie. "What are you reading?" I have no idea why I'm engaging her in conversation. It's better than going back, I guess. She doesn't seem very loquacious, though. But you could probably say the same about me. So maybe we'll get along.
She holds up the cover. Jane Eyre. "Romantic," I mutter.
"It's one of the first books ever written from a child's perspective," she answers, almost in opposition to my comment. So, if it's on books, she speaks.
"Is it?" She nods. "I thought Jane was… a nanny, or something."
One corner of her lips turns up. "A governess. But the book starts with her childhood as an orphan."
Got it. Won't be picking that up anytime soon. "Oh, cool." I swat at a bug. Jesus, they're everywhere. The flowers may be nice to look at, but they sure as hell don't make it easy to sit down here.
"You can come up here if you want. There aren't as many bugs," she tells me as she flips a page.
"No, I…" I start to protest, and then something loud and buzzing dives right for my ear. "Okay." I scramble up the tree and park myself on the same branch, a few feet away from her. "Oh wow, it is better up here."
"Why are you in trouble?" she asks without looking up.
"Some asshole in group therapy." Wait, should I be swearing in front of her? She looks like a child. "Uh, how old are you?"
She looks up at me. "Thirteen."
"Oh. You just look younger is all."
She continues to stare at me for a beat, then turns back to the book. "I know," she says softly. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"What did he do?"
"Who?"
"The asshole."
The word sounds strange coming out of her mouth, in her gentle voice. "Said some tough guy shit and then tried to hit me."
She grimaces slightly, setting the book on her lap and looking at me. "Are you okay?"
I'm struck by the concern in her voice. "Yes," I answer quickly. "I'm used to getting punches thrown at me," I try to joke.
She looks back to the book but doesn't pick it up. "That's not right," she murmurs. The sudden melancholy I feel coming from her unnerves me. I feel a strange urge to take it away. Before I can think of something to say, she closes the book and looks at me. "I have to get back. I have therapy."
"Wait!" I say as she makes to hop off the branch. "Uh, what's your name?"
"Anna. What's yours?"
"Christian."
She gives me the smallest smile and I hold my hand out. She shakes it, her grip surprisingly firm even though her fingers are bony and chilled. "Hi, Christian."
"Hi, Anna."
She gives me one more muted smile, then slides off the branch. She's so small that for a second, I worry that her legs will just crumple underneath her, but she lands easily enough and starts walking across the meadow, gingerly navigating through the flowers. I can tell that she's purposely avoiding them so she doesn't disturb any. She doesn't look back, and I watch her go until I lose sight of her at the tree line, surprised when I realize that there's a smile on my face.
I can no longer hide out in the woods by the time dinner rolls around. I sit alone, but I can feel Brandon's glare on me all throughout the meal, as if he didn't fucking start this shit. Just as I suspected, I get called in to Justin's office afterwards.
"About what happened today…" He leans back in his chair, appraising me. I square my jaw and meet his gaze. "We've notified Brandon's parents and he will be sent home if there's another infraction. We can request a security guard to sit in on our sessions if it makes you comfortable."
"If it makes me comfortable?"
"In this incident… all you are really guilty of is being derisive. Brandon tried to get physical, and Brandon started the verbal altercation that led to that. But it might be helpful to discuss your response to being provoked."
My response? You've gotta be fucking kidding. "What the hell would you have done if someone you'd never spoken to started spewing shit about you out of nowhere?"
He shakes his head. "I'm actually referring to the fact that you acted only defensively. It's in your record that you've had trouble at multiple schools for starting fights. From what I can tell, you could have easily done serious damage to Brandon, but you didn't. That doesn't appear to be your usual M.O. I'm curious what stopped you."
I blink a few times, still trying to comprehend the fact that I'm not actually in trouble. "I'm not out to hurt anyone. Not unless they…"
"Touch you?"
I inhale sharply. "People think it's so fucking funny to lay hands on the freak who can't stand it." The bitterness in my tone is obvious. I hate when the mask slips.
"Perhaps if you shared your struggles with the group, they'd be able to understand you better. People often take silence personally when it's in response to something they've shared."
"I don't care if they understand me."
"I'm just trying to make your time easier here, Christian. I understand that group therapy isn't for everyone, but you're not giving us much to work with on any level. We are only here to help you. That's it. But we can't do that if you won't let us. It has to be a partnership."
I'm quickly losing patience for this sympathy act. "Am I not in trouble?"
"You're not in trouble."
"Then I can go."
"Yes, you can go. Would you like me to request security?"
"I don't need security." Let him come at me again, see what happens.
I stand up and turn to go. "Christian… one more thing." Rolling my eyes, I turn back to face him. "Your mother calls every day. You know we encourage open communication with families."
Yeah, well, if my mom wanted to talk to me, maybe she shouldn't have sent me to fucking rehab. "I know that she calls."
He looks at me for a beat longer, then nods. "Okay. Have a good evening, Christian. I'll see you in the next group." Can't fucking wait.
The emptiness starts to sink its teeth into me again as I walk down the hall towards the doors leading outside. I feel like I'm suffocating. I thought it would get better with time, but I honestly think it's getting worse. I'll never know who I could have been if she'd been able to stay with me. I feel more and more chaos inside every time someone tries to frame it like I was her victim, and it'll only get worse when I go home and see the haunted look in Grace's eye that's been there ever since that day.
They just don't see what I see.
Something catches my eye as I step outside onto the grounds. Just by the shape of the hoodie, I recognize it as Anna. She's staring up at the cotton candy evening sky, clutching her book to her chest. I stand there, considering whether or not I should approach her or somehow make my presence known, when she speaks. "I miss you."
She's still looking right up at the sky, and her voice is soft and trembling, almost inaudible. I'm suddenly hit with the gut feeling that I'm intruding on something I have no right to. Treading as quietly as possible, I retreat back inside and leave her in peace. I have my own longing to deal with.
A/N: Hi, I didn't forget how to spell Ana, it's just that we're in Christian's head and he heard it and assumed that's how it was spelled.
Thanks for all your support and reviews! Always feel free to share your thoughts. I love to hear from you. xo
