Out of Line (C.H. AU)

Chapter one

Song for chapter: Just like you by Falling in reverse

Sydney's POV

One of the worst feelings is when you look in the mirror and are absolutely disgusted with what you see. What kind of person wants to smash a mirror because they have hatred in their eyes when they look in a mirror? I Struggle with that daily,  pointing out my flaws for hours. In my eyes, it's normal to hate yourself; perhaps that's part of the problem as to why I refuse to think anything else. It always felt normal to me, the whole not excepting compliments. I guess that's why my parents wanted me in a group.

The group is called Improving our self esteem, we just use the abbreviation I.O.S group. I know, it sounds like a shitty group; That's because it is. I hate being surrounded by people who also hate themselves and bitch and moan about it. It's apart of being human; you hate yourself. Is it wrong to feel that way? That life sucks? I don't really know. The only thing I'm sure about is the fact that this club is total bullshit.

The club has 8 members, me being there the longest. In my file it would say Sydney Stevinson, low self esteem, depression, social anxiety, and self harm with a tad of suicidal tendencies. And also, refuses to participate in group. I suppose that's why I've been here the longest, I hate talking. I don't want anyone to know what goes on in my head, because the fact of it all is that no one cares. All of us in the club are forced here by therapists, worried parents, and lousy doctors.

I.O.S group is held above this little coffee shop (plus for me). It's a room about the size of a master bedroom full of those crappy folding chairs. It has one giant window, and that's where I sit. I sit on the window ledge overlooking the town because all of them are free and I'm stuck in this dull painted room. I spend the two hours watching cars pass by and social interactions people have. I usually pick a color and count the number of cars that color that pass by. I guess you can say it goes by relatively fast.

Every week when we have our session, they try to get me talk. I don't think that's a good idea; I'm very... opinionated. I am aware that I am an asshole, but so is everyone else when they want to be. If someone asks for my opinion, why would I lie? Sometimes people really need a reality check. Is it my problem if I give that to them? I'm just being honest, in a bitchy way.

Out of the nine members the club has, it still manages to have cliques. Of course the cliques are two to three people but still. There's the stoners, they sometimes do weed in the bathroom. Contains Morgan (16) and Kyle (18). The next group is the shy ones, the ones who have their head always buried in a book. That contains Justin (14) and Chloe (15). My personal favorites are the jocks/ popular who are good at hiding their feelings. Logan (17), Brittany (16), and Hunter (18) are in that clique. And then you have me, the wanna be punk who doesn't speak.

Along with staring outside and watching cars, I also am really precise on my observations of other people. I notice what everyone is wearing and also notice the little things. I notice how Chloe plays with her earrings when she's nervous and always crosses her left leg over her right leg when she's upset. I like to see all the things they don't even notice. I on the other hand, I just sit and stare. That way they can't write anything down about my body language.

It's Thursday today, which means we have group. So excited. Get my sarcasm? I dread Thursday's, I absolutely hate even thinking about it. If I ditched, I would be seen as "avoiding my problem" and get in more trouble. So, I sit here and pretend like I'm not listening and wishing I was at home.

"I really just wish he loved me, y'know?" Brittany cried, showing her infamous ugly crying face. And I mean really ugly, like worse than Kim Kardashian. Brittany bitches about how her boyfriend doesn't love her, but we all know she's really in love with Logan. It's every fucking week and I don't know how much a person can talk about how "heartbroken" they are. Just don't date then, I don't. Love is a whole lie anyways.

While Brittany was hiccupping from crying, Logan (of course) jumped in and cradled her in his arms. "You really deserve better than him babe." Babe. That stupid pet name. Babe, baby, honey, sweetie; how about shut the fuck up?

"And how does that make you feel, Brittany?" Mrs. P coddled her and rubbed her back. Mrs. P is our director of the group. She's the typical short brown haired, brown eyed, 50 year old therapist type person. I hate her; I mean despise. I hate her and she hates me, it's kind of our thing. She also picks favorites and clearly all the jocks are her favorites. Bitch.

After Brit's crying session, we move on to me. I usually last 5 seconds when being asked how I am because again, I don't answer. "So, Sydney," she's already getting irked. "How is your week?" I take a deep breath like I'm going to answer and she gets a hopeful look in her eye but I quickly look away and that vanishes. She sighs and moves on.

After everyone talks about how their week is going, well everyone but me, Mrs. P states she has an announcement. "We will have a new member joining us next week, his name is Calum hood." Excitement is radiating off her body. Great. What kind of name is Calum anyways? Sounds like column to me, lame ass.

When Brittany heard the announcement she squealed "Is he cute?" with her annoying giggle. I watched Logan's face fall; we made eye contact and it was quickly replaced by a fake smile. He's so in love with her and she is in love with him. I almost feel bad for them; almost.

I'm really not excited for this Calum kid to come, just another person who will judge me. Another person who will bitch and moan while everyone pretends to give a shit. I really hate newcomers, especially cause they all leave before me. This is like a hell that I'll never be able to escape.