My fingers drummed the wooden armrest of the chair I plopped into while hanging out in the waiting room, my leg shaking slightly to the beat of the pounding music in my ears. I had kept my earphones on all day, trying to drown the outside forces out with the music from my iPod.
Aah, at least something was still the same.
I looked up at a clock hanging idle on the wall, the red rim around its glass interior nearly blinding me by reflecting the light shining from a nearby window. Spring was just starting to bloom, and the new-found sunniness of each day was difficult to get used to.
My eyes wandered to a few others waiting with me. One young boy was sitting in a wheelchair, his leg limp and lifeless while another girl around his age stood next to him with crutches under her arms. Around the corner was a woman, probably in her early twenties, adorned in a flowing dress and sunglasses. I tried to think why someone like her would need to go to a physical therapy session when I realized something about her left arm.
It wasn't there.
My eyes darted away from the woman's shoulder stump, the image nearly sending shivers down my spine. Heck, why was I here? Obviously these people needed the physical therapy a lot more than I did.
"Group Seven!" The chirpy voice of a young woman standing by the doorway with a clipboard snug in her arms could just be heard over my music. I quickly took my earphones out and stuffed them into my pocket.
"If I call your name, please follow me. Kayla Johnson," A young girl stood quickly, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she scurried toward the woman. "Maybelle Anthony," the one with a stump for an arm followed behind the other girl, her eyes trained on the floor. I let a little yawn escape my lips as I watched a band of people making their way to the door when their names were called.
"Ryan Sanchez." Guess I wasn't going in this group. I started to take my earphones out again as she continued to call out names.
"And Manila Davidson."
"Oh," I replied, shoving my earphones back inside my pockets. I picked up my drawstring book bag and followed the others out the door.
~~~
I remember the first thing I noticed about the room was how much smaller it looked than those therapy sessions you see in the movies. Other than that, they looked the same. There were white chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room, and self-esteem boosting posters all over the walls. I wasn't quite sure where to sit, so I just waited for the others to get settled before I did anything.
A few minutes passed and the awkward mist that hung above all of us was getting hard to bear. We didn't have to for much longer, though, as a middle-aged man in a black suit and tie walked in, a grin on his face.
"Welcome everyone! How are you all doing today?" Some people chirped out a greeting while a few others muttered a curt response under their breath. The rest didn't even bother to reply. The man's eyes seemed tired, despite his upbeat demeanor.
"Right, well, I hope that your attitudes will be a bit more positive by the end of this session. I'm Will, and I'll be working with you all for your group sessions. You guys will also have a personal trainer during your private sessions. Got it?" Everyone nodded.
"Good. So, today we're going to start off with introductions. We're going to go around the circle. I want you to model me. State your name, a little bit about yourself, and why you're here. For example, I'm Will, my best friend is a dog, and I'm here to help all of you in any way I can. Simple enough, right?"
A few more grumbled responses. I could've sworn I heard Will sigh. Poor guy.
"Alright. Let's start. How about you?" He looked towards the right of him: the girl with the stump for an arm. I swallowed thickly. There were countless possibilities of how that could've happened.
"Um, okay. I'm Maybelle, I'm the oldest of two siblings, and I'm here because of a motorcycle accident."
I found my eyes darting up to her face, a slight bit of scarlet tinting her cheeks. I wanted to just walk right up to her and yell at her and say that she shouldn't be embarrassed and give her a huge hug. That was a run-on sentence in my head but I don't even care.
"Is there anything else you would like to say, Maybelle? We're all hear to listen to your story. And what goes on in here, stays in here." He flashed us all a warning look, and we all simultaneously nodded in a silent oath. A smile tugged at the corner of Maybelle's lips, nearly making me smile as well.
"Well, thank you. I guess... it was stupid of me to have trusted him." All of us waited for her to continue, but obviously she didn't want to, so Will nodded.
"Thank you, Maybelle. It takes courage to tell your story. We're all here for you. This isn't just physical therapy, you know." He flashed her a smile and then faced the next person. "And you?"
We kept going through all of the people, my eyes widening at some, my mouth gaping at others. They all had both tear-jerking and inspiring stories.
"There was this drunk driver..."
"It was my own family..."
"I was abused..."
Their stories nearly shot daggers through me, a knot forming in my throat as the reasons started to get worse and worse. I stared at my hands, trying to think of why I was here in the first place.
The truth is, I wasn't even completely sure.
All I knew was that I couldn't help but feel guilty. I mean, here are these people who have such heart-wrenching stories of how they got their injuries and I just... fell. It seemed as though my reasons for being here were not only insignificant (as well as stupid), but selfish. Because here I was, taking someone's spot in this whole session... someone who could need it way more than I do.
And, if what everyone has been insinuating is true... then I only have myself to blame for my injury.
The others in the room had already spoken out, and finally, it was my turn. My lips were cracked and my mouth felt dry, but I knew I had to say something.
"I'm Manila. And...I... I don't know."
Will's eyebrow quirked upward as I bit my lip. "Well, surely, there's something you'd like to share out. Or why you're here. If you don't want to, though, that's perfectly fine as well. We understand."
"No, it's not that. I just..." I took a deep breath, a sharp pain shooting through my leg out of nowhere. "All I know is that I fell from the top floor of an outdoor mall."
"Well, that's something!" Will clapped his hands together as if I had just made a breakthrough, a smile adorning his face.
"Well, er-- yes, but... I don't know how it happened."
"Oh, I see," he replied, tilting his head and giving me a sympathetic smile. I nodded at him and looked away. Before, I was feeling fine, but suddenly, I was feeling nauseous. And stupid. I just wanted to sleep.
"Well then, now that we had out little introductions, let's start, shall we?"
![](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/4871643-288-k291917.jpg)
YOU ARE READING
Unthinkable
Teen FictionShe didn't mean for this to happen. Maybe it was the venomous thoughts that infiltrated her brain at that exact moment. Or maybe her sub-conscious self was preparing for this day forever. Whatever the reason may have been, it is now that she h...