Marcel

Chapter 30

Marcel's POV (Two days later)

Cami's sitting on my bed as I zip up my suitcase.

“I'll miss you,” she says.

“It's only a week. You won't miss me too much," I say, holding her hand and kissing her cheek.

“Yes, I will. I can't even call you or text you.”

“You'll be fine. The week will be over before you know it.”

*

When can I get out of here?

I've only been here for a few hours and I already hate it.

I already miss Cami too.

I'm sitting in a white room with white sheets and white, shiny floors. It smells like a hospital, which I guess because this is somewhat a hospital. The bed sheets aren't soft and crinkle everytime I move. I'm sitting on the bed staring out the window when a lady walks in.

“Hi, Marcel! My names Dr. Fang,” she says.

Oh, what a comforting name...

She has blonde hair and shiny white teeth that are huge. She's smiling way too wide. She better not be my doctor.

“I'm your doctor!” she exclaims.

How wonderful.

“So, you know why you're here, right?” she asks.

“I'm a straight A student, I know why I'm in here,” I mumble.

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere,” she says, still smiling.

“Sorry, I'm just nervous.”

“I know you are, and that's alright. I'm going to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay...”

“Who's your best friend?”

“Cami.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been going out?”

“A little over a month. I've known her for three months.”

She nods her head, “Does this relationship put any pressure on you?”

I sit quietly for a second, “Well, no. She makes me feel safe and happy. When I'm with her, there are no worries.”

“Has there ever been any rough spots in the relationship?”

“Yes... I thought she cheated on me. But she was pretending to date someone to protect me...”

“Like how?”

“It was someone who bullied me...”

“So you're bullied?”

“You obviously know that, I wrote it on the paper...”

“I know. Who bullies you?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, everyone.”

She sits for a second, thinking.

“And how does that make you feel?” Such a typical question to ask.

“How does it make me feel? Horrible. For years, I spoke to no one. I barely spoke at home. I just kept everything inside. I wrote songs and that's where I escaped.”

“So you sing?”

“Yes...”

“How would you describe yourself?”

“Nerdy. Um, lonely. Mature, I guess. Quiet...”

“Is it hard to describe yourself?”

I take a minute to think about it, “Yes...” I whisper.

“Why is that?”

“It's because... Because I've been called so many things in my life. It's hard to tell which is true and which is false. I can't even decipher my own traits from the ones people think I am....”

“You are smart, aren't you now? Most people can't answer that question.”

“I think things through a lot, I guess...”

She asks a bunch more questions and I'm with her for almost an hour.

“It was nice to get to know you,” she says, “I'll be back later. Come to me with anything while you're here,” she says when we're done.

“Thanks...”

I sit in my room alone when she leaves. It should be an interesting week.

*

(The next day)

I'm sitting in a circle with a bunch of teenagers that I don't know. I was forced to come here. None of the kids look happy to be here either. They all have blank stares and no one is smiling. A doctor walks in and sits in the circle.

“Hello, everyone! We have three new people today, so we'll start with them. We will tell our name, age, and how we're feeling today. Then others may ask questions,” she says.

Great. I'm not good telling things about myself to strangers. I play with the name tag on my shirt and try not to get nervous.

“Hmmm.. Marcel! We'll start with you!” she says.

“Uh, um, my name's Marcel. I, um, I'm 18. Today, I, uh, I feel... Empty.”

A girl with red hair speaks up, “Empty how?”

“Well, it's my second day here and I don't really have any emotions right now. I'm not happy, and I'm not quite sad.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” a boy with tan skin asks.

“40...”

Everyone stares at me like I'm an alien.

“40 tattoos and you're 18?” a girl asks.

I want to leave. I want to run away from here and get away from all these eyes watching me. I feel like they're all judging me, just like the people at school. It's no different. Why'd I even come here? I never should have come.

I nod, “Can, we please move on to another person?” I ask. It's making me uncomfortable having all these people watch me. It's like I'm under a looking glass.

“Sure, Marcel,” the doctor says.

I realize that all these teens are like me, or they have it worse, which I didn't think was possible. I'm not alone. There's others out there like me.

When we're done, the girl who asked about my tattoos comes over to me.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“Does what hurt? Tattoos?”

She nods.

I shrug, “At first it does, but now I'm used to it. Does that hurt?”

She looks at her arm and pulls her sleeve down, “At first, but now I'm used to it.”

“These are my scars, and those are yours. We just have a different way of letting out pain.”

“I never thought of it that way...”

This chapter is a lot of talking, because even though I've never been to a place like this, I feel like a lot of people would ask you questions. If you've ever been anywhere like where Marcel is or you know a lot about those kind of places, can you message me? I don't really know much about them... I hope you like this chapter! <3

And my friend Aleyna wrote a teenfic, I'll post the link. I hope you'll read it! I read it and I can't wait for more. :) Her account is stylinswaggur

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