Waiting Tables

Chapter 20 - Sharing Circles

"Who else would like to volunteer to share something? It can be anything at all,"

    The room was silent for a moment before an almost inaudible sigh could be heard.

    "Jeremy, you already shared today, why don't we let someone who didn't speak up have a chance, yeah?"

    The one called Jeremy groaned, but nodded reluctantly. Ashton was sitting on the other side of the circle with his arms over his chest, pulled in tightly to himself. He scoffed at the kids overeager behavior. Who willingly wanted to share something in the sharing circle?

    "Ashton? How about you, then? You haven't told us anything about you,"

    He flicked his eyes over to the woman in the lab coat (whose name he didn't bother to learn), sitting two seats to his left. She was the one who led the group therapy sessions twice a day. Ashton had only been at the place for two days, and this was the fourth session he'd been forced to attend.

    Since his time in the hospital when he was forcefully sedated, they decided inpatient therapy was needed for him. "It was clear" to them that Ashton "wasn't well", and he "needed help".

    Jokes on them, he didn't need or want their help, and he was going to do his best to get out of there with as little communication as possible.

    Instead of answering, shrugging, or nodding, he just sat still, staring to the left of her shoulder, wasting time. That's all he was doing there, wasting time, and it certainly wasn't helping him. He needed to get back to normal life, see his coworkers, fuck strangers. He had to do something other than sit in this stupid circle and listen to other people whine about things that didn't matter.

    "It's okay, Ashton. This is a safe space, and I know that's cliche and kind of silly, but we aren't here to judge you, I promise,"

    There was that fucking word again! Everyone always tried to assure him of something by saying they 'promised' but people are flawed and unable to carry out those promises. No matter what, they always, always, always, let him down.

    He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw.

    Still, she wasn't discouraged. "That's okay, maybe another time. How about you, Krisianne?"

    Kristianne was a young girl, younger than almost everyone Ashton had encountered there. She was pretty, slim features, striking green eyes, long brown hair that fell in ringlets over her shoulder. The thing Ashton noticed about her was she always wore bulky sweaters, even though it wasn't cold in the facility.

    "Uhm, yeah. I-I'm leaving tomorrow," Lucky, Ashton thought. "A-and I've been working on uhm, getting more comfortable with myself," she smiled shyly, encouraged by the nod from the woman in the lab coat. "And I'm going to take off my sweater, I think."

    "If you're comfortable, Kristianne, that would be fine. We aren't going to pressure you into anything."

    She took a deep breath. "I want to." This sweater wasn't the usual pullover that she always wore. This one was still warm and fuzzy, but she was able to undo the buttons with her eyes closed and slip it off her thin shoulders.

    Ashton knew the reason she wore them. All up and down her arms, and probably her legs and stomach too, were little tiny cuts. All of them were old, some older than others, and some were still scabbed over, but there were no fresh marks, probably for a month or so. The scars covered every inch of her, though. She blushed as everyone looked over at her, fingers twitching towards the fabrics as if she wanted nothing more than to tug it back on. But instead, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

    Everyone (except Ashton who wasn't even looking at her anymore) was smiling at her, mumbling small words of encouragement to her. She was beaming.

    "How do you feel?"

    "Proud. I h-haven't worn short sleeves in...maybe 4 years when this all started," she said absently, trailing her fingers over the bumps and ridges in her skin. "I think I won't always wear them, but I don't need to be embarrassed of my past. I can move on now, and be okay."

    "That's lovely, Kristianne. We're all so proud of you, and you know if you need anything in the future, just reach out."

    "Of course," she squeaked, nodding before settling back into her chair.

    "Okay, that's all the time we have for tonight. You all have one hour for free time before you'll need to go to your rooms. Make the most of it, make some friends. They're finishing up a movie in the common room."

    The second she finished speaking, Ashton stood, quickly exiting the circle.

    "Ashton?" he pretended he didn't hear her and walked out, heading towards his room, where he was planning to sleep until the morning. He was still being given heavy psych meds because he was crazy, apparently, and they made him very tired. When he wasn't in stupid sharing circles, he lay in his room and slept.

    The next morning he got up when someone came through the halls, shouting about breakfast. He grumbled to himself, relating his current predicament to a prison, as he got changed into one of the outfits Calum had brought to the hospital before he left. He had to wear the hospital gowns there, but here in the psych facility, he was able to have t-shirts and pants. He was grateful for that small luxury, even though everything had to be searched and deemed safe. No belts, laces, or strings could adorn any article of clothing.

    He stumbled his way to the dining hall, taking the tray from the line and sitting down in the corner to eat it.

    "Irwin, you have to come take your meds now, come with me," one of the facility "guards" said. Ashton knew that's really what they were, they were stationed all around the common areas just watching for people to do something wrong. His first day, a kid got tackled for suspicious activity (that turned out to be a piece of candy he'd found in his pocket). They seemed friendly enough for the most part, but Ashton wasn't there to make friends.

    "All right, Ashton, how are you this morning?" The doctor asked when he'd sat down on the little patient bench that was covered in a crinkly paper. He didn't answer, he never did, and she continued on. "Are you feeling worse than yesterday?" he shook his head at that, because he knew if he didn't respond in some way, she'd give him heavier medication that would push his chances of leaving back. That had happened at the hospital when he refused to be compliant and he hated how drowsy it made him feel. "Okay, then here's something just to keep you a little calm." he swallowed the pill dry, refusing the cup of water she offered.

    He got up to leave, but she told him to stay.

    "Is there a problem with anything? I hear you're not speaking during your sessions. You have a private session with Dr Andrea this morning, would you maybe be more comfortable in a one on one environment? The group setting isn't good for everyone, Ashton, but we want to work with you here."

    He only shrugged.    

    "Okay, well," she sighed. "Try to talk to Dr Andrea today, you might find that it helps."

    But he didn't. They sat in the room for the entire 45 minutes and Ashton didn't say a word. He didn't plan to.

***

Yahhh okay let's see what happens next. Hope you're liking it so far !

~ashtonfortherwin