Nyctophilia

Chapter Two:

Doctor Hartley told us to take a seat out in the waiting area again. She had to fill out a few papers and have a talk with my mother privately. She also said to my mother that she wanted to go over a safety plan with her right after she examined the scars that were painted up and down my wrists just a few moments ago. Just knowing they will both be talking about me makes me feel embarrassed. No one was supposed to find out about my dark side and now here I am. I don't want to be helped, I honestly don't. I don't need anyone to save me and tell me it gets better because I've heard that same bullshit time after time. I just want to be left alone more than anything and I want to get out of this place.

a·lone /əˈlōn/

adjective & adverb

1. having no one else present; on one's own. "she was alone that evening" synonyms: by oneself, on one's own, all alone,

The walls feel like they will close in any second and everyone is staring at me as if they have never seen another human before and it honestly frightens me. Everyone looks sickly, spaced out or just broken. I'm not scared of these people because I am one of them, not matter how much I don't want to admit it to others. I have problems just like they do, but then again, everyone in this world suffers so how is it that the people who show it in an artistic form by nature are only called the crazy ones?

I sit down on the dull, lifeless shade of blue that covers the entire chair. Can't time go any faster? It feels like I have been in here for hours but it's only been about thirty minutes. My eyes slowly scan the room, landing on one person that has been the first thing that caught my eye. There is a huge brick wall he built around him probably because that's the only place that feels like home to him.

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" he asks. Shit, I've been observing him for so long and I haven't even realized it.