Battle Scars

six

Room time with Robin. Awkward.

She scribbles in a notebook while I collect thoughts.

I want to talk about Ethan. I want to know what's going on with him. I want to know why he's actually here.

I was right all along. Ethan Quinn isn't dead. People at Westman High are such idiots.

"So, Ethan." Robin suddenly says without taking her eyes off her journal.

I look up and feel shocked, its as if she read my mind.

"I saw the look you were giving him. You like him, don't you?"

Maybe she's one of the crazy ones. An alien from outer space, maybe. She can read people's minds and comprehend every surrounding.

"Like him? I just met him. He's cute, yes. But I don't like him."

"Not yet."

I roll my eyes.

"So, um, what exactly happened to him?" I ask.

"Ethan?"

I nod.

"It's not my business to tell."

I hear a bang from another room.

"I'm okay!"

Robin and I give each other a smirk and silently chuckle.

"People here are nuts." She says, then looks back down at her notebook.

I change the subject. "So, why are you here?"

She looks up. "Schizo. It got out of control one day and they sent me here. I've been here ten days so far."

"Damn."

"Well, it's not as long as Ethan. He's been here for a little over a year."

I bite my lip. Just thinking about being in this hell hole for longer than a week scares me.

"What brings you here?" Robin asks me.

I look at her. "My mother."

She nods and continues writing.

"It was my mom's idea for me to come here too. I didn't want to be here but eventually you get used to it." Robin says.

"What do you mean you get used to it?"

She shrugs. "It becomes a routine. You wake up, eat, do activities, eat some more, go outside, sleep, repeat."

".....Do they make you eat?" I ask.

She looks up at me. "Dear lord, tell me that you're not anorexic."

"Anorexic? Well, no, I wouldn't say exactly that."

"Phew. Okay. Well, the first day I got admitted, there was this girl with anorexia. Skinny as a stick. She refused to eat, so they forced her to. Let's just say it wasn't pretty."

Forced her to eat? Well shit...

"You okay?" She asks me.

"What, yeah, I'm good. It's just...I don't know...I don't like to eat."

"Why is that?"

I bite my lip and look away from her. Why do people like to get in my business?

"I feel fat. I don't like it. When I eat, it makes me feel like shit afterwards. So on and so forth. It's not worth it."

She gives me a look.

"What?" I say.

"Well first of all, you're not fat. Like, not at all. Not even close..."

She's trying to boost my self esteem. My mom does the same thing when I call myself fat.

"Yeah, yeah, I get told that a lot." I say.

"Second of all, if you never eat, you'll die. End of story."

"I get told that one too."

"Well you better believe it."

I give her a sad smirk. "I guess."

She peeks at me for a minute before gesturing me over to her.

"Come here. Let me put some braids in your hair."

I let her play and pull my hair into a nice single braid, all while classic rock plays quietly from her boombox.

She spins me around when she finishes and gives me a big grin. "Love it. My art strikes again."

I stand up and walk into the little bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. I admire Robin's work.

"Looks good!" I call out to her. "Thanks!"

"No problem, kid." I hear her tap her pencil on her desk.

"Can you teach me how to do this sometime?"

She nods. "Yeah, later. Now I'm gonna write some more in this journal, and then I'm gonna take a nap. Room time lasts a good two hours." She says.

"Alright."

"Alright."

We stay silent from there. Robin lays on top of her bed and closes her eyes.

"Have a good nap." I say.

She opens her crooked eye. "Thanks."

I decide I should probably get a little bit of sleep, too.

I slowly rest my head and close my eyes.