"Miss Jean, when did the urges to harm yourself begin?" The lady in the gray suit asks. Mary is her name. I think. I don't care enough to ask again. I shake my head.
"I don't know." I say. She sighs.
"You're going to have to discuss it with me one day." She says, straightening her thin wirey glasses. She's pretty, what a shame she's a pesty bitch. I laugh.
"I don't know." I whisper.
"Okay, I understand. You are uncomfortable talking about that. We'll get to the root of that later on. What about the other, um, issue?" She asks. I know exactly what she's talking about. I shift around in my seat and wrinkle my nose.
"Oh." I say. Her face seems to brighten up. "I don't know." I say. Her face sinks again.
"Jean Alters. Your mother paid a lot of money for this, and you have two serious issues and you need help. Now, you can either talk, or you'll go to the Correctional Center For Teens, so I suggest you talk, sweetie." She says in a stern tone. I smile. Two issues. They don't know the half of what I do. I find it funny how they all think it's me that's the root of the fucking problems. Oh, they don't know the half of the abuse "Okay, bitch, you want me to talk? Alright, I did self harm. I cut myself until my bed was soaked in blood. Sometimes it got real bad. To the point where I ended up in the hospital. Is that what you wanna hear?" I say.
"Yes. Good. We're getting somewhere." She says.
"How are we getting somewhere?" I ask.
"You see, you're getting it all off your chest. Don't you feel better now that you've admitted what you've done?" She asks.
"Honestly, is that even a question? I'm not admitting shit! I know what I did! And I'm not ashamed! This doesn't help. You thought I was suicidal before? How would you feel if a ton of white bitches sat around in a lobby drinking coffee and talked about your personal issues behind your back?" I say.
"Okay, calm down Jean. We're done with that. Now, can you please tell me about your other problem?" She asks.
"The maturation? Oh yeah, teenage girls do tend to get horny." I say. She gasps.
"You really need to watch your Language!" She squeals.
"What do you expect? You're dealing with an angry 16 year old girl who was forced to go to fucking counseling!" I whine.
"I will be informing your mother about this, I hope you know!" She says. I laugh.
"Inform my ass!" I yell and stand up.
"Do not leave this office! You aren't dismissed!" She yells.
"Fuck you. I dismiss myself bitch!" I say and walk out into the hallway, flipping my hair as I do.
My mom is sitting in a chair next to the door. "You're soon going to be informed about my oh so mother fucking terrible behavior." I say in a proper tone, imitating the counselor.
"Wha-" the small women storms out of the door.
"Mrs. Jean, your daughter has extreme behavioral problems. I believe she needs at least 4 months in Correction Center For Teens!"She says.
"Jean, Is that true?" My mom asks.
"Whatever." I say and cross my arms.
"When does it start?" My mom asks.
"Friday. 10 a.m." The counselor says. I see her smirk. She enjoys this. Bitch. I wasn't worried about going to some camp in Bum fuck Egypt about 5 minutes ago, but now I'm fucking scared.
A/N Aye. I actually kinda like this one so far. It's not good, but yknow, I like it, so keep your bad vibes outta my cornflakes♡
