Last night had been absolutely hellacious to say the least. After that mind boggling dream, Emma had turned into a complete insomniac. Her eyes darted back and forth as every little creak resonated through her ears causing her to almost jump out of her skin. As if her lack of slumber wasn't dreadful enough, today was the day of her weekly group therapy session. It made no sense. Why did she have to attend these immensely screwed up sessions? There was no way in hell that Emma Nelson had even thought much less injected heroin into her system that caused a powerful addiction. There was absolutely no need for her to be here.

None at all.

Of course, those wretched people decided that she needed to be here. It was all about need. No one needed to know what Emma needed. That was probably because the subject of Emma's needs was the farthest things away from them in their field of thoughts. She was encircled in a vast ring of fire and no one knew the proper way to save her. Instead, they blamed the fire on her which ended up causing her to fall off of her grass covered pedestal. No one wanted to be that set of hands that pushed her off. So instead they all pointed the finger of blame at Emma. She resulted in her own downfall. However, it was incredibly obvious that no one had heard her pitiful cries for help. They were all wrapped up in their own saran wrapped conversations and lives. They all had their own problems to deal with and couldn't possibly be bothered with the minuscule trials and tribulations of Emma Nelson. Hence why she was left to her own devices and started burning slowly at the stake that they had all hung her on. With each selfish action they performed, the rope that tied her to the stake was wrapped around her once more. Of course, what happened to Emma didn't seem to affect anyone.

There seemed to be absolutely no concept to this thing they deemed "therapy". Mostly because Emma was completely and utterly convinced that therapy was absolutely wasted on her. In fact, that statement could be argued by anyone of the members in the group therapy session. She seemed to accomplish absolutely nothing in these sessions except for frustrate everyone else trying to accomplish something that could be considered progress.

The blonde sat stiffly in the olive hued plastic chair much like everyone else had in the room. They were all in placed in a circle. The whole circle arrangement seemed so elementary. It was as if they were all being treated as if they were misbehaving first graders that had to learn to properly interact with each other by being stuck in a situation together. It was as if they were a bunch of random first graders who were on the same kickball team in gym class due to their sweat suit adorned gym teacher's assemblage of teams. None of them necessarily had to like each other, but they were forced to attempt to work with one another. It was positively juvenile to Emma. And to make matters worse, these plastic chairs were enhancing the immense pain swimming up and down her back. To Emma, this was cruel and unusual torture.

"So, I'd like to thank everyone for coming to the session today," a rather built dark haired man addressed the group while Emma rolled her eyes. It was as if he was thanking everyone that he could subject them to mind numbing torture and telling them that they all had some problem. Well, of course, everyone else did. Emma seemed completely unfazed by the fact that heroin addiction was a serious problem. She had become so accustomed to injecting the drug into her veins that it became a part of her daily routine like getting dressed and brushing her teeth.

There was also some kind of twisting of the knife when the man leading the group looked entirely clean cut while everyone else looked like they had crawled out of a hole after dying. He was subliminally taunting them with the fact that he appeared to be more superior to them, even though he claimed to be someone they could come to with their problems and issues. Emma didn't believe a word of his sugar coated speech. It seemed too glossed over to be the truth. Everything seemed to be altered. Reality itself had been altered immensely. This alteration horrified Emma and left her in the dark realm of absolute confusion and insanity.

"Who would like to share their story today," the man questioned a sea of faces that were attentively listening, with the exception of Emma though. After a moment of mind numbing silence, a brunette woman meekly raised her hand. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties or so, but that could easily be mistaken for someone who was possible Emma's age because of the way her face just looked incredibly tired. The circles under her eyes just gave her this rather unflattering appearance. It was possible that woman could've been a complete knock-out. She had potential buried underneath the dirt and grime of withdrawal and depression.

"My name is Katherine," She introduced herself in a raspy worn out voice. "I started using marijuana when I was about…um…actually around my seventeenth birthday. My friend and I decided that it would make my birthday party more fun. It just felt…so…refreshing." Katherine let out a sigh before going on about the intimate details of her seventeenth birthday party.

It was quite obvious that Emma had absolutely no amount of interest in the subject at hand. Instead, she decided to send everyone a slight glare without the help of the UPS delivery man dressed in his too short brown shorts. Unfortunately for Emma, they seemed to be too into the story. They were completely hooked on it as she continued to spin a slightly dull story. How Katherine made everyone pay attention to her with her dramatic emphasis to each part of the story. It wasn't really an exciting story either that involved any amount of drama. Emma fumed with envy. How could she possibly make the story seem so full of excitement and tragedy? Of course, Emma knew that the story wasn't all that great. But that was quite ironic considering she was only half listening. She was off in her own little dream land where no one could even think about touching her. She was lost in this land of beautiful oblivion from the story that was being woven like some kind of horrible piece of fabric that was uneven at the edges.

"And my mom was kind of wondering why in the world my grades were suffering," Katherine continued in her raspy voice causing a set of hands to push Emma out of her dream world. How absolutely horrible. Now she had to actually listen to some poor sob story from someone who made one wrong decision, drove down the wrong road, and got into some accident that was their fault. And the fact of the matter was that Emma wasn't one of those people who made those completely idiotic decisions. She loved to think that she had her head on completely straight. That she was the person you went to if you needed to be given some kind of help. The blonde couldn't simply picture herself having the tables turned completely out of control so that she was the one on the opposite side of the door. Emma didn't want to be the one knocking on someone's door begging for some help. No, there was simply no way that was going to be the way things worked out. It was simply unspeakable. Unfortunately, it's hard for someone to dig themselves out of a deep and dark hole called denial.

"I never told her. Mostly because I didn't think it was any of her business," the sickly looking brunette continued on while Emma looked down at her tennis shoes and the sounds of only Katherine continuing to weave the tale filtered throughout her ears. She didn't want to listen, mostly because then she would know when this horrid story would be finished being told. Then it would possibly be her turn to tell her "story". Emma didn't have a story. Emma didn't have a reason for being here. Actually, it was more like Emma knew there was a reason for her appearance here. There was that whole angle about actually acknowledging she had a problem was something that Emma didn't fly right with.

"Then one day, she found me in my room smoking a joint and with these absolutely pathetic look on my face," Katherine let out a shaky sigh. "My eyes must've been so damn blood shot and I probably looked absolutely wretched. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and asked me why. 'Why did you do this to yourself, Katie bear? Why?' Before I knew what hit me, I ended up here. And I've been here for the past three months. It's helped me, it really has. I just don't want to make my mother cry anymore. I used to be this wonderful soccer player and went to some championships. Now I'm an expert at rolling joints." She ran a nervous hand through her limp brown hair before putting her head in her hands. "I'm twenty one; I should be in college right now trying to get my degree in Philosophy. I'm here and making my mother wondering how she went wrong."

She buried her head in her hands while letting out a shaky sob. Her single sob suddenly broke into several muffled sobs causing the other group members to just stare at her with eyes filled with sympathy. Well, all of the group members except for Emma, who seemed to be completely unfazed by the story. It did, however, let thoughts of her own mother fill her head. They had told her that her mother was the one that had found her in the bedroom unconscious. They had told her that if her mother hadn't called when she did, she probably would've died. They made her mother look like this wonderful hero while Emma was the villain in the comic book. Everyone pointed the finger of shame at Emma. Of course, they had no reason to point the finger of shame at her, mostly because she didn't have a problem.

"I don't want to make my mother cry anymore," Katherine sobbed while Emma rolled her eyes and muttered some derogatory comment under her breath. The blonde didn't see the reason why this Katherine girl should be offered any sympathy. It wasn't as if she was completely oblivious to what she was doing to herself. It was her choice to become some pathetic lowlife that abused marijuana because they enjoyed it. The girl seemed to have a good life going for her by the way Emma perceived the situation. While Katherine was off living the life that anyone would be lucky to have, Emma was off fighting battles with the demons while trying to bargain with them to postpone the battles for a date when she could actually win the battles. The sheer idiocy of this Katherine character made Emma want to explode into a ball of flames and perish everything in sight. Then she'd be the eternal flame that destroyed everything that tried to put her out. There was no way that Emma Nelson would go down without a fight. That also was a get one buy one free sale. If Emma Nelson wouldn't go down with a fight, that would mean she sure as hell wouldn't admit any fault or mistake. Even if she did, she would blend a fresh coat of denial and stubbornness over it. No one would notice an imperfection, no matter its size, because Emma had the ability of glossing it over.

 Her life had been completely glossed over until someone made the varnish come off. After the varnish had come off, she felt exposed and naked. There was no coverage in sight. Emma hated that vulnerable and naked feeling. There was no way she could have anyone see her that way. But he saw right through that. For that, she gave him some credit. He wasn't a bumbling idiot like she had thought him to be. It was a marvelous act that Emma applauded. It was then she realized that everyone is a performer in a play. No one has a true identity because humans have the ability to be so mercurial. Some small line in the play could change the way the character behaved.

"You know we'll be here for you, Katherine, if you need any help at all. Admitting it is the first step," the group leader reassured Katherine whose sobs had turned her face red with sadness and shame. Emma let out a scoff before rolling her eyes. This all felt so programmed. Every word that had come out of the leader's mouth was something that you'd expect him to say. Every word was as if it had been read off of some cue card or memorized many times.

"Miss Nelson," the group leader's voice boomed causing Emma to practically jump out of her skin. "We've never heard your story. We'd like to hear it so we can help you in any way possible. We're here for you."

Bullshit, Emma thought bitterly.

"Bullshit," She said softly.

The man blinked, "Pardon? I couldn't exactly make out what you're saying, Miss Nelson. Can you please speak up for me?"

It was obvious to anyone with vision to see that Emma was riddled with a strong feeling of absolute anger. She spoke, her tone burning with fury, "I said 'Bullshit'! Do you need me to spell it out for you? B-u-l-l-s-h-i-t! That spells 'bullshit!" Her shrieking caused everyone to just stare at her. She hated it. She hated how their eyes undressed her and made her feels so vulnerable. It was one of the worst feelings in the world that she had ever experienced.

Her rant continued, "I don't need your sympathy, okay?! I'm not supposed to be here. I don't have a problem like the rest of you…people! I'm not some kind of pathetic screw-up! Okay?!" She crossed her arms against her chest, trying to hide her absolute nakedness as their eyes continued to bore into her. She could feel her body shaking; every cell seemed to be shaking only slightly which caused this feeling of absolute trembling wash over her lanky body. Emma panted which each shake while everyone's eyes seemed to loom around her and surround her. Tag, she was it.

"Oh c'mon," a raven haired man piped up in a rather sarcastic and taunting tone. "Do you realize how absolutely batty you are? You need to talk about it. It really helps. Don't give us this dehumanization act towards us. You're just one of us and you're too freaking self-righteous to admit it."

Emma shot him an acidic glare before muttering, "Oh, screw off, junkie."

"Hey babe, I can't hear you," He called from his side of the room in his patronizing voice. "Speak up! I can't hear you!"

"Nathan, please stop it," the group leader commanded. "When Emma's ready to talk, she'll talk. Just…give her some time."

This was yet another one of these things that Emma hated. How people assumed things about her. They all thought they could peg certain actions on her and just assume these things about her. She remembered this phrase she heard somewhere. Where…she didn't know. "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me." It always amused her, how absolutely corny it was. But in essence, it was the truth.

The room sat in absolute silence as they waited for Emma to make some kind of response, whether it was verbally or in some kind of gesture or look. Of course, she didn't dare to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. It was as if she was some show that everyone watched on the television. One of those horrid reality shows.

Silence was absolutely shattered into small fragments when the door to the large room was opened. In popped the same red headed nurse that had come to talk to Emma a week ago. It had been thirty seven days in this hell hole. Thirty seven days and counting. There was no exact date that she would depart from this wretched place and be deemed acceptable to society.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," She apologized in her saccharine voice. It sounded so plastic to Emma and she absolutely hated it. "But um, Miss Nelson, you need to come with me."

This nurse seemed to be her savior at the moment. She was giving her a pumpkin coach that was leading her out of the mind numbing group therapy session. Of course, this nurse was probably one of those absolutely deluded people who thought she had a problem. So jumping right into the pumpkin coach wasn't exactly an option. But, to apprehensively get in after asking some questions about her motives would give Emma some kind of warped security.

"Why," Emma asked innocently while looking at the nurse.

"Just come with me," the nurse slightly snapped. At the expense of needing some kind of escape from this wretched place, she got up from her chair as her tennis shoes squeaked against the cold linoleum floor. The group seemed to be functioning well without her presence, mostly because the devil known as the group leader was currently trying to delve into some poor soul's personal life.

"What's going on," Emma asked firmly but with a hint of curiousness lingering in her tone. "Why am I being pulled from my session?"

The nurse offered her a slight smile, "You…have a visitor." The nurse seemed to be slightly baffled by the concept of Emma having a visitor, or so Emma thought. "We told them that you were in a session and you shouldn't be interrupted. However, they insisted on seeing you right away. I don't know why, but they sounded absolutely frantic."

They walked down the corridor in silence before arriving at the reception area. A familiar figure stood there as Emma just stared in absolute awe. Her eyes were flooded with shock as her mouth opened slightly as she continued to stare. What was going on?

"Miss Nelson, I believe you know your visitor," the nurse chimed in her ever bubbly tone.

"Hello," was their greeting for Emma.