Battle Scars

four

Checking in was fun.

Not really.

Not at all, actually.

I had to wait about an hour before the person took me in to ask me questions. A whole hour of being in the same closed room with my mom.

The worst part is that I have no idea where my headphones are.

"I should have known you were up to no good."

Yep, here it comes. I keep my head down and roll my eyes.

"Christ, Amber! Where the hell did you even get the idea of cutting your skin?"

The rest of the hour went on and on, just like this.

~

"What's your full name?" The nurse lady asks me.

"Amber."

She raises her eyebrow.

"Collins." My mom finishes. "My daughter isn't too happy to be here so-"

"Mom." I cut her off.

"What's your date of birth?" The lady moves along, clearly not wanting anything to do with our mother-daughter drama. I don't blame her.

"Well, I was born in 2002..." I say slowly, intentionally trying to piss off my mom.

"She's fourteen. March 4, 2002." Mom says in a stern voice. "Amber, knock it off. I mean it."

I roll my eyes and the lady continues her questions.

"Why are you here?"

I looked up at my mom for that one, since I'm not exactly sure the answer to that.

"Amber has been using sharp objects against her wrist for who knows how long. She's obviously suicidal and needs to be checked in to get help."

Thanks, mom.

The lady takes notes, and I give my mom a look.

"What?" She mouths to me.

I shake my head and scoff.

I look around the room. Green walls, glass doors. What the hell is this place?

I observe the lady. Short brown hair, glasses, young; possibly in her late twenties. Her eyes are a maple syrup type brown, and it looks as if she colors in her eyebrows.

"Is this your first time being suicidal?" She asks me.

What kind of question is that?

"There's a difference between feeling depressed and feeling suicidal." I answer.

My mom looks at me. "How long, Amber?"

I hate this.

I look back at her. "Long enough." I say sarcastically.

"Depression? Is she on any medication?" The lady asks my mom.

My mom shakes her head no.

"Do you think she will be needing a prescription?"

"No." I answer quickly.

I start feeling anxious. I look back around the room to try and distract myself and notice my surroundings. 

There's a small vase on the left corner of the desk. I look closer and notice the label on the side. I can't quite figure out what it says.

On the other corner of the desk, there's the lady's name tag.