Only One I Call Home

Chapter 1

“You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”

-       Mae West

February 2012:

“So why’d you do it?” My counsellor asked me. It was the question on everyone’s lips.

I just shrugged, that was always my answer.

He sighed heavily. “You know Laurel, I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

I looked towards the window. These sessions were the only chance I got to look at real flowers, the rest of this prison was boring and dull. “Fine, I just wanted to see what it was like behind the walls.”

He shook his head. “Wrong answer.”

“Well what do you want me to say, Dr?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

He jotted something down on his notepad. “From what I’ve noticed, you’re a kind and gentle girl. I don’t understand why you did what you did. I just don’t get it.”

I sighed heavily. “You know you can say it, I’m not afraid of it.”

I don’t think he was sparing my feelings though, I think he was just too worried that if he said it out loud it would confirm how crazy I was.

“Say it.” I snapped.

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He sighed. “Fine. What were you doing with the drugs?”

I sighed. “Well honestly, I was going to sell them because being a foster child doesn’t exactly make you rich. But I didn’t get the chance.”

“You know I could charge you for that.” He told me.

I shook my head. “No, you’re just a shrink. You can’t charge me for anything.” I smirked. “Are we done because I like my social worker better?”

He shut his book. “You may leave.”

I stood up and left the room.

Rob met me on the other side with a smile. “How did it go?”

I groaned. “Why do I have to do therapy, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” He told me. “You’re in a Juvenile Detention Centre, you most certainly are not fine. But considering, you are okay. But it’s not really up to me; it’s up to him. And the longer you shut him out, the longer you’ll be going to the sessions.”

I sighed. “Whatever, I’ve been here a whole month and he still asks the same questions.”

He chuckled. “Well, if you’re good you’ve still got another eleven to get on his good side.”

I groaned. “And what if I’m not?”

“Well he’ll decide that.” He smiled small. “But don’t worry, he won’t keep you. It’s half my decision too. And your foster parents have to come up with the money.”

“Five thousand dollars? Yeah right. There is no chance in hell that I will get out of here in a year.” I told him shaking my head. “Isn’t there a special exception for kids like me?”

He laughed. “Nope, if they don’t come up with the money you’ll probably get community service.”

I sighed. “I’m not going back to them when I leave here. I’ll runaway before I go back there.”

“I’m not supposed to say this, but I’d help you.” He whispered. “And then I’d find you a better family so that you wouldn’t get in any trouble.”