Retreat (ddlb)

6

After having spent one hour in crafts, I had managed to fill two pages with marker sketches in my new sketchbook. When I arrived back in the arts loft after seeing Ms. Lou, Ms. Sammy came up to me and handed me a white sketch pad and a 10-pack of Crayola washable markers, telling me that the lady at baggage claim 'put in a good word' for me. I was very surprised and oddly touched that this woman had noticed my issue with my pencils and had actually remembered and told Ms. Sammy. I made a mental note to thank her when I saw her next, feeling guilty that I didn't know her name. 

While I was actually having a decent time drawing, it was of course interrupted by the well-known whistle that I'm sure everyone is tired of by now. "Okay, guys! It's time to go ahead and get our room cleaned so that we can go get some lunch! Go go go! I'm hungry!" I started to feel a headache forming as she continued to talk to us like preschoolers, which was only amplified when she turned around and clicked on a speaker, which started blasting 'the cleanup song' in its full glory. Thankfully, I had only been drawing so I quickly placed all of my markers back in their box and closed my sketchbook and walked back downstairs to wait. 

"Bruh I wish that btch would just stf up." I felt the couch cushion move as another kid sat down next to me on the couch, just a couple feet away. I let out a small snort, resting my head on the back of the couch and closing my eyes. "No shit." I replied. "No seriously you have no idea how pumped I am to walk in a herd of suicidal teenage boys down to a rainbow cafeteria just to eat Dino nuggets and applesauce." This time I gave a tired grin and opened my eyes to see the same redhead from yesterday who was shouting during our assembly.

 "Darien, right?" I moved my head to the side to face him, loosely sticking out my hand. He sat up and dapped me up, still showing the same pissed expression. "Yeah, what about you? I swear you haven't spoken like once since you got off the bus. Except with that 'dom' kid that probably has a weird crush on you." I let out a small, surprised laugh. This kid really spoke his mind, which I found oddly comfortable. "Uh, I'm jasper and that 'kid's' Ezra." He took his hand back and flopped backwards onto the other side of the couch, this time with a calmer expression. "So do you like him back? Because from what I can tell he's definitely a real dom." This time I sat up a little, feeling slightly taken aback. "What do you mean a real dom?" He shrugged, like I should know. "Like one of the kids who came here because of this program. He probably knew he was a dom before he got here." I stared with my eyebrow raised, feeling incredibly confused. "What?" He just nodded, like he finally understood I didn't know what he was talking about. 

"Well I don't know if you have noticed, but plenty of the kids here are actually interested in the BDSM program and came here because of it, most likely looking for a dom or sub. But the only ones allowed in had to actually qualify as a patient, so a lot of them probably got into it from other therapy treatments that referred them here. Like the Ezra kid, who was totally trying to 'daddy' you all during breakfast." I sat still, shocked and unsure of what to say. At first I didn't think he was right but then I started to think about some of the kids that I had seen here, like some of the other boys who carried stuffed animals and wore kid-ish clothes and pull-ups to bed. And then suddenly I also remembered how Ezra was acting and how sad he looked when I told him I didn't want to go through with any of it and how much he was trying to do things for me. And also of course the part when he  tried to order me around. Correction: DID order me around. 

"Holy fck." I slouched back into the couch and put my hands in my pockets, thinking things through. Does this mean that my parents knew about it? Did they know that they signed me up into a BDSM program for sick kids? "Wait, how do you even know all of this?" I turned my head back to Darien, waiting for an answer. "Well, I didn't want to come here. I've been in therapy for a few years now and my therapist told me that age regression would help me, and I just kind of let her do whatever and I ended up slipping a couple times. It's really not that bad but I didn't want to like make a lifestyle out of it or anything, but she said that I was ready and that this was a 'next step' in my recovery. So, my parents sent me here. But she told me that most of the people who get in are sent from therapists who think their patients would respond well to one of the categories and that it's apparently highly successful." I noticed he looked away after mentioning he was a little, which I have to admit surprised me a little bit.