Stay Strong: The Diaries of a Cutter. (On Hold!)

Chapter 7: Therapy, you're Not My Friend.

Chapter 7: Therapy, you’re Not My Friend.

~Carter~

Group therapy: definition: A bunch of broken teenagers sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs bitching about their problems with a can of soda and a bag of chips. Sadly the soda goes not drunk, the chips go uneaten and our problems remain unsolved.

The question of the day was:

‘Have any of you ever thought about suicide and what are your thoughts on it?’

The impossible question that always goes unanswered, everyday nobody speaks up but today, everybody has their story they’d like to share in hopes it’ll make them better. Doctor Wallace had the conversation begin with the first person to her right and go around in a circle. Sadly I was the first person to her left; therefore I was the last one to speak about it. That gave me plenty of time to put together a speech; I didn’t want to talk about what I really thought about suicide. So I’ll make up a story about, I dunno, whatever.

“Carter,” Doc Wallace’s voice rang in my tired mind. Shit, I thought I had enough time. I thought tiredly, after I woke up last night I was only able to get into a dazed rest. My sore neck craned over so I was looking at her, it cracked loudly making everyone cringe at the sound. I wore a dirty grey sweat shirt with a pair of grey skinny jeans. I had my hands crammed into my centre pocket.

“What’re your thoughts on suicide?” She asked curiously with a steady expression. Everybody’s attention was on me, I hated having all eyes on me. I crinkled my nose and shrugged slightly.

“I think suicide isn’t cowardly,” I stated weakly. “–Only selfish. But we all need to be selfish sometimes.” I added with a weak and raspy voice. Doc Wallace frowned but she arched her thin auburn eye brow at my remark, shifting in her seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Doc questioned. I gulped down and sighed tiredly.

“It means, sometimes people don’t want to be saved. Sometimes they just want to go to sleep and never wake up, no matter how many times someone tells them it gets better or how many times a loved one tells them it’s gonna be okay or they love them. That person just doesn’t want to be saved and that’s a simple fact.” I explained further with a cold tone that seemed like stone. I noticed everyone was looking at me with their gobs hung open and eyes popping out of their heads. Doctor Wallace looked at me like I was a science experiment, like I could possibly be her Frankenstein creation. She can take a little bit of this and that and bring something that is dead back to life, she thinks I’ll be her biggest breakthrough. 

“Have you ever attempted suicide, Carter?” She questioned flatly. I swallowed hard and nodded at her.

“As a matter of fact, yes I have.” I replied.

“How’d you try and take your life away? What or who stopped you?” She asked me numerous questions that I didn’t feel like answering. I pursed my lips and shared a twitching half grin with everyone.

“That’s classified information.” I said coldly. I got up from my blue plastic chair and left the open room, walking down the dark hallway. Today was cold and dreary, luckily, no rain. But the depressing mood still chased after us from the heavy clouds above. I heard the door open and close again then a heavy set of footsteps followed behind me. Melissa emerged beside me with a nervous smile, she slowed down once by my side.

“Carter.” Melissa said my name, pushing her thick black framed glasses up her nose. I looked over at her, cocking an eye brow curiously.

“I have a question for you.” She added breathlessly. I smacked my lips together and cackled at her comment.