Philophobia ||l.h||

III.

•Recovery•

Group therapy is weird.

I'm sitting in the farthest chair to the right of this small, cold room. I'm guessing this room used to be the gym of this old small church because it is open, the floor is dirty, and the only type of furniture to cover it is a ratty rug and 12 metal chairs. We're in a "circle of trust" as our instructor says, and as I study it, my confusion is starting to build.

Nobody looks the same.

There is a young, curvier girl on the side directly in front of me, dressed in what looks like a uniform. She must go to private school. I believe she said her name was Molly, but I can't remember. Then there are two twins, Reagan and Riley, sitting to her left. When we introduced ourselves, they said they were here because they only talk to each other, and anyone else gave them "strange thoughts." The Shining, much?

Everyone else looks as if they could go to alternative school, which I have no doubt in my mind could be the reason they are here.

Our instructor seems like a hippie, he dances around the ratty rug talking about "self-worth" and "loving yourself."

He annoys me.

But there was one girl in particular that caught my eye. She seemed about my age, maybe a few years older, and she was sat beside a young boy, with her chair pulled back slightly away from the group.

She had dirty blonde waves that met her waist, and dark brows, shading her winged blue eyes. She had a choker around her neck, but not a stereotypical one like the girls wore back at public day school. More like a yin yang sign. Her green day shirt hugged her tightly, and she stretched out her long legs, slouched as if she didn't have a care in the world.

She popped her gum loudly, and I could hear the rock music coming from her headphones all the way from my side of the circle.

When we introduced ourselves, she said her name was Demi, and she suffered from "anger management problems."

Same.

Yet she didn't seem too worried about her recovery, considering the fact she was ignoring our teacher right now, as he tried to get her attention.

The crowd giggles as he yells her name louder, before she finally looks up, snatching her left headphone out with a "huh?"

I stifle a chuckle.

"I was saying.." He emphasizes, using his hands to gesture to the rest of us, "What are some triggers for you? Some things that set you off? Now that we're sharing?"

She pulls out her other headphone, sitting up, and popping her gum once more. "Well." She thinks.

"I don't like when people look at me weird. I don't like when people kiss their teeth at me. I don't like when my brother steals my food. I don't like when girls laugh at me. I don't like when teachers call on me, and I hate when my-" she counts her reasons on her hands, until the instructor cuts her off.

"Okay, well, Luna, what makes you angry?" He directs his attention towards me, as well as the group. Demi's face is shaped into a scowl, and I decide to vouch for her.

"I don't like when people cut me off." I glance at her, and she giggles, as I smile at her.

He just rolls his eyes, sweeping his hands at us. "Next activity, get with a partner."

I think it was obvious who I chose.

•Present•

"The 1975? Paramore? Your taste is incredible." Demi says, running her fingers over the band art that covers my walls. I smile at herself. "Thank you."