just a little bit out of my limit // l.h. // a.u.

- f i v e

-Songs-

sippy cup - melanie martinez

pity party - melanie martinez

trouble - halsey

JENNA

After my uncomfortable encounter with Luke, I had to finish off my day at school as per usual - although I couldn't get it off my mind.

Leaving the hellhole, I put my headphones in and put on 'Pity party' by Melanie Martinez, knowing I was going to need one pretty soon.

I managed to make it home without any encounters from Luke or his squad of football players and cheerleaders, but none of them could compete with the hate I felt once I reached my destination. I made my way into my house and dropped my bag on the floor, knowing I was alone since my mother wouldn't be home for hours, and my father hadn't been for years.

The place I called my 'home' was nothing of the such. A home was a place where you were supposed to love and feel loved. It was a place where if you'd had a bad day, you knew you could go back to and feel familiarity, feel safe, and feel welcomed. My house was anything but. Although it did used to be. My parents used to be supportive and loving and caring - and everything you could ask for in a parent; but now I was living in a silent home with a broken family, and nowhere to feel familiarity, or to feel safe, or to feel welcomed.

I sighed deeply, knowing I would have to leave soon, and decided to change my outfit to something more comfortable; I decided on some sweatpants purposely rolled up to my knees, a Pierce The Veil tee and a hoodie. For about 20 minutes, I attempted to procrastinate, although I couldn't think of anything I could do to stop me from having to leave. I huffed after going through my Instagram feed, that consisted mostly of band members and dedicated band account's - although definitely no one from school, God knows I would get a beating if I even attempted looking at a popular's Instagram account. Standing up, I decided it was time to leave - the town hall was at least a 20 minute walk away from my house and I was already going to be 5 minutes late.

I left my house, locking the door behind me, bringing a cookie for comfort food, my notepad for obvious reasons, my phone for music (God knows I wouldn't need it for anything else) and keys. I suddenly quickened my pace as I realized being late meant having to walk into the room already full of people - the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I didn't even want to go to the group therapy session.

My mother had decided earlier this week that I needed 'help'. It was a surprise she hadn't noticed earlier, really; I hadn't been talking for over a year and barely left my room. Although, not so surprised at the same time; that conversation was also the longest one we'd had for over a year. After graduation I was no longer to be considered her daughter, she had made very clear to me after 'the incident'. She would pay for my college fees, and that was it - as long as I was out of her hair, she couldn't care less. I was pretty sure she would be happy to pay for Uni (if I actually had any intention of going) and my wedding and every social event I held for the rest of my life (if I ever made friends), as long as she never had to see me in person again. I took a bite out of my cookie recalling the conversation from a few days ago.

"Jennifer, we need to talk." I snapped my head up from my book with surprise - she hadn't attempted to make conversation since the night after the incident. My mother, or Anna as she preferred to be called, had stated as she walked to the space in front of my bed with purpose. "Or, I need to talk, and you listen, or whatever," she shook her head at herself, then recollected her thoughts. She lifted her chin, with a stony look once again taking over her face."You're going to group therapy, once or twice weekly. It's not professional, just something set up by the people at the town hall. It will get you out of the house and keep you from becoming completely socially..." She attempted coming up with a nicer word, but decided she couldn't be bothered to be polite. "Retarded. Whilst you're still here, I don't want you giving me a worse reputation than you already have. The fact that you can deal without leaving the house for over a week leaves the neighbors wondering - they say 'concerned', but we all know that's a lie," She made a noise that resembled a dark chuckle. "You're going. And I'm calling the leader of the group weekly, to check if you've attended the any of the sessions." And with that, she exited my room, shutting the door behind her, leaving me as I once was.