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Black, skin tight jeans. Long chocolate curls. Shiny leather jacket.
I stood in the doorway, watching other people sat in a fit of panic, their cheeks flushed and eyes drained. Few were talking a lot, trying to distract themselves from the talk about to occur. Yet, others were sat still, not a body part twitched, they just sat, staring at the blank wall.
I took a seat next to a small girl, her hair weathered and her body fragile. She turned to me, but didn't smile nor talk, she simply bowed her head before turning back to the empty wall.
The double doors swung open and in walked a woman, no older than 35. She was dressed in a navy blazer along with a matching skirt, and her shoes were raised on a platform.
After sweeping her long blonde hair back, she took a seat and let a few words fall from her rosy lips. "Hello everyone."
The silence was shattered, causing my eyes to dart at the marble floor.
"You all know why you're here, true?"
"True."
"You're all happy to be here, and to talk about what ever it is that is making you feel this way, also true?"
"True."
She stood up to collect a notepad before asking each member of the 'club' to position their chairs in a circle.
She looked at each of us, her eyes in desperate need to meet with any others.
"You."
She looked straight at a tall, skinny boy.
"Me?" He gulped, his cheeks turning a warm red.
"You." She informed him. "What is making you feel hurt, or damaged?"
He propped himself up on his chair and took a good look at all the misfits scattered around the spacious room.
"I-I'm not me." He gasped. "I'm not me anymore. Ask anyone. I saw, I saw a picture the other day. It was me and my best friend and disneyland when we were approximately five. We were happy, we were smiling. I looked at it and I was genuinely happy. How would that me know how I was feeling? How would that me know that there are scars on my wrist. How would that me feel if I told him nothing stays the sa-."
He was interrupted by a flow of tears, streaming down each cheek. He reached in his pocket for what could only be the picture of him and his best friend.
"I miss, I miss me."
He sat in his chair, tears falling left, right and centre. I could only watch as he was asked to leave the room to sort himself out.
The woman scanned the room once again, humming as she did so. I tried my hardest to avoid eye contact but it was to late.
"You."
I looked up. "M-Me?"
"Yes, you."
I sat up, ready to let out my inner pain but I was stopped by an intruder.
A tall boy walked in, tanned skin. His hair was in a scruffy mess and his bright red top hung loose on his shoulders. His brown eyes melted as he scanned across the room for an empty chair, tucking his hands into the pockets of his skinny denim jeans.
He took the seat next to a large girl before speaking up. "Sorry I'm late."
"That is quite alright. Back to you."
I took a look around before letting words fall helplessly from my parted lips.
"I'm Molly and my whole body and mind feels numb. I haven't slept properly in months, I've lost a lot of weight and everything's getting to much. I'm not beautiful, nor clever or funny. Five days clean is the most I've ever been and I don't see the point in me being put on this earth as no one is interested and no one cares."
"I care." The new boy spoke.
I ignored him, assuming it was sarcasm. "I don't go outside alone anymore. I see everything through the news and television. I cover myself in make up to hide the mess beneath. I'm nothing, and I never will be."
The woman looked at me, her sparkling blue eyes set on me and only me. I glanced back, not knowing what to say or do.
"I think you're beautiful." A strong Bradford accent interrupted the quiet. "I'm pretty sure everyone else thinks you are."
I watched as he wandered over to me, his body language strong. He leant forward as he reached me, a strong scent of tobacco radiating off his stick like body.
"Now how do we make you see it too?"
