Angels Like You

Therapy

"Until you say the words," Dr. Rittell was saying, "you won't believe it. And you can't just mutter them under your breath. You have to mean them."

I'd been staying with the Gomezes for a couple weeks and hadn't slipped up other than taking some cold medicine. I'd been smoking more cigarettes, though, but was told that it was tolerated since it kept me from doing worse drugs.

Dr. Rittell hadn't wasted any time with medicating me. Once she'd confirmed the diagnoses from my other therapists, she'd given me a concoction of drugs that the Gomezes kept a close eye on. Even after the first day, I'd noticed a difference. All of the nonsense thoughts had faded to a dull white noise. My moods felt more regulated. I didn't know what the societal feeling of normal was like, but I imagined it was even better how I was doing from being on medications for such a short time.

She'd been trying since day on to get me to be the blunt person I had a history of being. The drugs had diminished that person the last few months. The illicit ones. The medications I was on still left some of that anger burning in me. I could swallow it most of the time. I at least hadn't punched anyone since Hunter.

"I'm an addict," I said with a sigh.

"Rhys."

"What?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

She sighed and folded her hands on her notebook. "The point is for you to look inside yourself and reflect on your past. If that's not what you're going to do, then we're just wasting our time."

I reached down to adjust the ankle monitor. So far I had managed to hide it at school. Hunter had been right about people knowing my past. I'd been too focused on getting a fix with Toby that I hadn't lifted my head to look at the way other people were treating me.

Toby had tried to corner me two days after I puked at the after-school program. I'd missed the day after to go to Dr. Rittell and to file paperwork with Officer Hilton. He'd questioned me about where I was the day before and if I wanted to leave school to go get high at his house.

I had. I had really wanted to go, but Hunter and Rafe had flanked me. I hadn't given two fucks about Rafe since I met him the first day of school, but Hunter had given him the gist of the situation and I felt like I had two spies making sure I wasn't doing anything I shouldn't have been. Which was probably a good thing. I wasn't known for making the best decisions.

Hunter had simply told Toby that he needed to find someone else to be a leech and shoved me away. I had glanced over my shoulder in time to see the fury on Toby's face before he was swallowed by the in-between class mob.

Now, I stared at my scuffed shoe that I propped on the edge of the coffee table. It was hard to take the sessions seriously when I had fucked off during them for five years.

"Nico said the cutting has dramatically decreased since you started taking the medications," she said. Changing tactics.

I pulled the sleeves down over my hands. I hadn't been ashamed of my scars before, but I was starting to realize that they were a reminder of all the fucked-up shit I'd done and had done to me. Nico did a skin check randomly to make sure I didn't have any fresh cuts or track marks. The urge to slice my skin had slightly faded. Two weeks of therapy wasn't going to take it away completely.

"I've been too busy with school to focus on much else," I said with a sigh. "That's a good thing, though. Staying busy."

"As long as it's not a distraction."