Gone Girl

Chapter 51

Veronica's POV

"I can't believe I trusted you, you were lying all along," my mom scolds me and I wish she could lower her voice just for a bit, it's hurting my ears.

I woke up yesterday and I feel disconnected from this world, also very nauseous.

I can't believe I overdosed, I always wanted to die but this wasn't my intention. I just wanted to forget about everything for a bit.

Derek...

I haven't seen him at all, he hates me now. I feel it. He doesn't care anymore about me because he got tired.

"No, Veronica, this is done. I'm sending you away," my mom yells and I frown, unsure if I heard her correctly.

"I'm sending you far away. And you won't come back until you get better."

"I already looked up teen rehabilitation centers in Georgia and they are very strict. I'll make sure they teach you right. I can't do this alone and you aren't helping me," she continues and I grab her hand while my eyes get watery.

"Please, mom, no! I beg you, don't!" I say through sobs and I pull on her arm harder.

"No. You are leaving as soon as the doctor says so," she says in a strict tone and I cry, letting go of her hand.

It's over for me. It's all over. I fuck up everything every time.

"Did anyone come to visit me?"

I immediately realize that someone must have saved me, someone must have seen me in that horrible condition but no one tells me anything.

"No. And no one will," she says and I wipe away my tears.

"I could have died..." I mutter.

"That's exactly why I'm angry. You could have died and you never stopped doing drugs, you will never stop without help and I won't sit here being gentle and nice to you, because it didn't stop you from overdosing," she spits and I look at her attentively.

I can't blame her.

~

My mom puts a hand on my shoulder and she helps me grab the baggage.

They told us I can't have any electronic device, so no laptop, phone, or anything that could help me have contact with the outside.

I only put clothes and other body care stuff in the baggage.

We enter the enormous building, it looks like a hospital but with a dormitory.

The woman signs us up and makes a phone call.

"Go to the office, on the right."

"Thank you. Have a good day," my mom says and I follow her to the office.

We knock and a man invites us in.

"Good morning. Welcome to Insight Teen Program," he says with a warm voice, and my mom smiles.

I don't bother greeting him. I didn't accept going to rehab. She forced me and it's only possible because I'm not eighteen years old yet.

"We know it's a difficult decision but it's for the best, miss Reeves," he says and he hands me an ID that I will wear around my neck which is supposed to identify me as a patient.

"You will undergo therapy and if they think you are doing good, you will be out in no time," he explains and I get an idea.