Flesh and Bone [#wattys2015] #wattys (klaine)

Sectionals: The group (Part one)

Blaine's POV

"I wish I'd have known, I wish I saw the signs - don't let it be too late, call 0900 052 5922" was written on a giant sign on the road.

I hated when people said that, because that is bullshit. It's easy to realize when someone is depressed, I dont know if it is only easy for me because I've been like this since I can remember, but I'm able to know if someone is depressed by only exchanging a couple of words with them. I believe that once you get depressed, you forget how to speak, you just lose it. It's hard to talk when you're depressed, that's above and beyond everything else, and it's not only a mental issue, its not only something messing with your brain chemistry, its a physical thing. It's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out of it. They don't come out smooth the way normal people's words do. So you just keep quiet, hoping no one will speak to you. But even though you don't want someone to try and start a conversation with you, deep down inside of your mind, you still have that burning desire, that someone will notice how broken you really are, that someone will try to help you out and make things alright again. But after years of waiting, I know this just doesn't happen. People just dont care for free.

"Honey, call me when it's done, okay?" Mom said, touching my shoulder. "I'll drive you back to school" she added with a tiny smile, twisting her lips.

"Okay, mom" I said, leaving the car. I was dressed with my Dalton's blue hoodie. I walked down the pavement, at that time, the street wasnt that busy. Just one or two people every now and then. I entered into a 5 level building that was quite small, it was a mini psychiatric hospital. When I passed through the lobby, the security guard greeted me. He was immersed in a conversation with the cleaning lady, about how his wife had been a big pain in the ass in the past few weeks.

I walked to the elevator down the hall, every step I took, a thin, sharp noise echoed through the lonely walls.

I entered the small cubicle, pressing the button that had a small drawing of the number two in Roman letters.

After a few seconds, I was on the second floor, I walked by a very polished floor, that it made very difficult to create friction between my shoes and the floor, until the white door that had the number six, printed in the middle of it.

"Hey Blaine, buddy" my shrink, greeted me with a big smile. "You're early! Come on in"

I entered the small room, the walls were beige and the floor covered with a light-white paint, it didnt have much inside, just a few chairs and a small closet glued to the wall.

When I entered the room, I went straight to the chair I always sat for the past three years.

I was the second one to arrive, the first one was a boy who I had never seen before, he was sitting on a chair opposite mine, with a startled look spread across his face, staring at his feet. He was a small boy, he had black short hair and dark skin. He was wearing a black jacket with a dark sweatpants.

I grabbed my cell phone, waiting for everyone else to arrive.

I always lied to the guys, I used to say I had a job to help to pay the school bills, I said I was my mother's friend's daughter babysitter on tuesdays, because I was ashamed of telling them truth. They were my friends, I was scared that once they knew the truth, they would treat me differently.

I hated to go to therapy, which made me start to hate tuesdays. Every tuesday of the month, I had to go to the group therapy. Therapy in group It's the worst kind of therapy, cause instead of sharing your thoughts with only one person, you're now sharing it with another six, and every single person in there knows when you're lying, cause they know what is like to have to lie to stop feeling. To have to lie to everyone else that you're fine just to get through the day.