Faking Happiness

(1) My First Day In Hell

 When you get sent to rehab, the one of the first things they'll ask you is if you regret whatever you did to land you in there. When I got here, after I showered and got dressed, they lead me into a therapist's office. There was a lumpy woman in a large recliner drinking a diet pepsi.

"If you're trying to lose weight, you might as well starve yourself. I mean look, it did wonders for me!" I said lifting up my shirt to show her my clearly visible rib cage.

The fat lady seemed stunned for a moment and then calmly started to speak. "Yes, it does say here in your record that you have a history of anorexia. It also says that your mother walked in on you cutting numerous times. Was it your mother who admitted you into our facility?"

How dare she mention my failure of a mother?! No, my mother did not admit me here, that's what I wanted. I wanted her to care, but she didn't. It was Ethan, my uncle. He was the only person that I had, and now that he sent me here, I'm alone now. But I don't tell Fatty McFatterson any of this. "No, my mom loved it when I cut. She's a vampire and I would leave a mess in the bathroom so that she could drink my blood."

Fatty stared at me for moment with a bewildered look on her face. "One more question before you leave for lunch. Do you regret trying to kill yourself?"

"No, in fact I might even hang myself with my sheets tonight."

"Well it's my job to help you realize that you're life is precious and irreplaceable. By the way, my name is Ella."

"I think that I'll call you Fatty." And with that, I walked out of Fatty's office.

***

When I leave, I realize that I don't know where I want to go, so I go back to my room. When I get there, I just sit and try to process what's happened, I realize that no one but Ethan knows that I'm here. Of course, my mother must know because she would have had to sign the admission forms, but she's probably forgotten by now. But none of my friends have any clue where I am. I saw some computers in the common room when I first arrived, maybe I can email them and let them know why I suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. Except I know that I'll end up giving them some lame excuse like I went to visit my grandma in Florida. There's only one person that I would ever consider telling the truth, but he hurt me so much that he doesn't deserve to know anything. Maybe he'll end up thinking that I took his advice and...

While I'm thinking about he-who-must-not-be-named, my crazy roommate runs into our room and sits on her bed. She says nothing, just curls up in a ball and starts rocking back and forth. I go over there and introduce myself, but she just starts crying when she hears my voice. I know that I won't be able to think with this crazy bitch in here so I go to the common room.

As I'm walking through the corridors towards the common room, I realize how dull everything is. The floor is made of a really light granite stone that looks like they mop it every two hours, and the walls are a pale blue that almost looks grey and they have really dull light bulbs that make it look like the place is three times darker than it actually is. Here's the other really weird thing about this place, they have no windows, I guess they're scared that someone will try to jump.

When I finally find my way to the common room, I go up to one of the people monitoring us psychos.

"How can I help you sweetie?" asks the fattest person I have ever seen. Do they purposely only let fat asses work here?

"I want to use a computer, can you help me out with the password and shit?" I'm really annoyed that she called me sweetie, I mean she doesn't even know me. I decide that she's a pediophile.