The Photographs

Chapter 3

I walk down the front steps of the porch and stop to unlock my phone, typing in the location of the building into GPS. 15 minutes away it reads, so I'll have to high tail it there to make it on time. I walk towards the road and take a left, fishing through my bag for the bottle of pills and my water I always keep in there. I really need to clean out my bag, I think as I start taking out old receipts and wrappers from candy. "Aha", I say out loud as I finally feel the shape of the pill bottle in my hand. I push the wrappers and receipts back into my bag and take my water bottle from the side out. I unscrew the cap of the white bottle and shake out two red pills, unscrewing the cap of my water off as well. I pop the pills in and take a big swig of water to help wash them down, then screw both caps back on and place the water and the bottle of pills back into my bag.

I hate taking them. I only agreed to because my mom wouldn't let me say no, she kept pleading with me that I had to accept the fact that I was broken inside and I needed help. She was also the one who practically forced me to go to these talk groups every Sunday. They aren't bad, but when your the only girl there who sticks out dramatically, you get tired of having to explain yourself and your life choices. My bright blue hair is always the first that they see, and then the scars. That's why I refuse to wear short sleeves now, I'm tired of seeing either the disgusted or sympathetic looks from everyone I pass by.

I look around at the other houses on my street, all giving off the same, boring vibes. My neighborhood isn't a really outgoing one, I guess you would say, and they tend to keep everything "spick and span". Pretty much minimal decorations outside, and they are always cutting their grass. I come across the street that leads out of my neighborhood, and take a right. Children are outside playing basketball in the street, the loud pings of the basketball sounding each time it hits the black road. I speed up, eager to get past them as soon as possible. They move out of the way a little so I can pass, their stares being the only greeting I get from them. I look down and speed up even more, sprinting just a little to get farther away as fast as I can.

I want to go back to North Carolina, I think to myself. I had so many friends there, people who wouldn't look at me differently. I get to the main road and check GPS to see which way to head. "Turn right", I hear it say, and start walking down the cement sidewalk towards town, kicking stones whenever I see one to pass the time.

Once I reach town I take out GPS again and read the number of the building typed in."2456 Leddin Rd.", I say. "Looks like it'll be around the corner of this store and on the right". I walk towards the clothing store and look inside. I see young teens with shopping bags in there hands and clothing piles held by their mothers for them to try on. "Typical", I say to myself, and walk around the corner of the shop. My eyes lock on one particular building, its old, red bricks fascinating me right away. The vines on the side have almost completely hidden half of it, and I can see lit rooms from inside the top floor windows. I instantly grab for my camera, and pull it up to my face to look into the viewfinder. From this angle the light captures the essence and mood of the building beautifully, the red bricks popping out from beneath the overgrowing vines and the green front door making the mood seem simple but somewhat suspicious of what this building used to be.

I snap the picture, and then stuff my camera into my bag, zipping it up afterwards. I slowly start to walk up to the door, reading the address number in white letters on top. 2456. Looks like this is it. I go to knock, then hesitate. I always do this, get nervous I mean. Its a habit, where I have to check three times to make sure this is the right thing I'm looking for. I only needed to check twice though, because I start to hear the door pull open from someone on the inside. "Hello, can I help you?", a middle aged woman with brown hair asks me as she opens the door. "Um, yeah actually. I was looking for the talk club that meets here every Sunday?", I tell her, catching a quick peek inside. "Right this way. Your just in time dear, they are about to start the meeting.", she says to me and starts leading me down a semi-dark hallway and up a set of carpeted stairs. At the top is a brown, wooden door with a gold doorknob. "Just knock", she tells me, and starts making her way back down the steps, holding onto the hand rail as she descends.

I take a deep breath and turn around to face the door. This is my first time meeting with a new group of people. I guess my complaining to my mom about the stares convinced her to find another group for me. I knock three times and am immediately greeted with an opening of the door and another middle aged women, only now with blonde hair. She's wearing a pair of light blue jeans and a white T-shirt, her shoes being a pair of black converse. "I'm guessing your Olivia, correct?", she says as she motions me inside. "Yep that's me.", I tell her, and I walk to the only empty chair left in the circle.