I hate this. I hate everything about this.
As you can probably imagine, that room was filled with more colour than you could possibly imagine. Coming from both mine and that dickhead's mouths. Oh. Sorry. I mean Mark.
I don't know how Dr Hallet convinced me to move in with them. Yeah. Them. Not only am I living with a 'buddy', but I have to live with his tag-along mates as well. Basically, Mark didn't want to move out of his flat, so it's been down to me to move away from all of my securities. Just to feed his massive ego. Arsehole.
So yeah. Two days have passed. And they've been the most unpleasant days of my life. I've essentially done everything I can to stay away from him. He walks in the room, I walk out. If I can, I'll lock myself in the bathroom. I don't have a bedroom, so this is the closest thing to privacy I can find. The only way I can ease the rapid beating of my heart when the reality of my situation hits me in the middle of the day. But, as you can imagine, it's only short lived.
A harsh tapping on the door drags me out of my thoughts. How long have I been in here I wonder?
“Move,” I hear his cold Irish accent grunt. “Got our session. I'm not being late because of you.”
Ah. Yes. One of the inexplicable conditions of this 'buddy system' thing. We must, I repeat, must, show up to our weekly sessions at all costs. If one of us can't make it, we need to give a reason as to why. We will be given some homework to do, something related to the reasons we're on the programme in the first place. And then we will have to report back to Dr Hallet.
Sounds like shit, right? That's because it is.
I throw the door open, barging straight past him. I skilfully ignore his snort of disgust, determination driving me towards the front door. I'm so glad I got prepared before they all woke up today. Otherwise I would need to piss about with getting my shoes on, giving him ample time to catch me up. No, thank you. I'll just leave immediately.
The only catch is...I can't drive. And he can.
I curse under my breath as I stand next to his car. I only know which one because it's got a big sign saying 'Ginger Aboard. Keep your souls out.' Yeah. He's ginger. I'd never have known though. He's always got that ridiculous hat on his head. Even when he's in the house, it's always there. The only reason I do know through the insults I hear the other boys yell at him through the house. I would ask him about it myself, but I don't want to waste my breath.
The drive is silent. I've sat myself in the back seat, as far as physically possible from him. But that doesn't stop the anger that radiates from him washing over me. If I looked at him, I bet he would burn a hole through my skull. Not before I crack his open though...
He doesn't wait for after he parks. Good. Don't want anything to do with him. But what he fails to realise is that I have the perfect opportunity to make him late. If he arrives first, they'll all ask where I am. And that will get him in trouble. I think I want to play this game.
As he pushes his way into the building, I casually lean against the wall for a cigarette. Screw him. Lighting it up, I smirk to myself as he comes back out, trying to force back the terror that is threatening to take over. I refuse to meet his eyes. I'm going to enjoy this cigarette. And nothing he can do...
“You're going to make us late, you stupid bitch.”
Anger bubbles in me and I glare at him. He is the living embodiment of everything I hate in a person. Everything I fear the most. And I'm stuck with him for God only knows how long. Grand.
I blow the smoke into his face. He splutters, making me sneer nastily.
“I'm enjoying myself. You can just wait.”
