Baby Fat

twenty-one

"How are you feeling, Corrie?" Jennifer asks with a smile. She's got an iPad in her lap and marks down everything Corrie tells her.

So far, he hates therapy—and they've only gotten five minutes into it. They started with the preliminary questions like "what's your name" and "what brings you here today".

"Trapped." Corrie mutters. He's belly down on her couch, face turned into the cushions on the back.

"And why is that?" Jennifer asks patiently.

Corrie's original plan was to sit in silence but then he started to sweat and his hands trembled so he decided lie down instead. He thinks he has a fever, but he's not exactly sure. He hasn't slept in days and he's not tired.

"I think you know why, Jennifer," Corrie snaps. He's easily irritated now.

"Corrie, you'll never get out of this place if you don't open up to me. Once you're cleared by the medical doctors, it's up to me to clear your mental health." Her voice is so soothing, Corrie could fall asleep to it if he was tired at all.

"I just don't want to be here!" Corrie shoots up off the couch. "It's pointless and a waste of money."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not addicted to anything!" Corrie shouts, frustrated. "I'm fine!"

"You're withdrawal symptoms show otherwise, Corrie." Jennifer reminds him of his annoying symptoms.

Suddenly he wants to vomit. He runs to a trash can and throws up the little breakfast he had. He sits down on the floor next to the trash can, resting his head against Jennifer's cherry wood desk.

"God." Corrie utters breathlessly. Jennifer stands up and offers him a package of mints which he takes graciously. "You're obviously not bothered by this, huh?"

"Of course not, Corrie." She rolls her overly large cushiony chair over to him and sits in front of him in it. "I've worked at this rehab place for seven years. All the things you're experiencing everyone is. The vomiting, the lack of sleep, the tremors, the anxiety, irritability. All of it. You're not alone, no matter how much you try to convince yourself by you are."

"It's just...everyone I've ever known has betrayed me. Being alone is the only way I can protect myself." Corrie sighs deeply. His hand trembles but he puts a mint in his mouth.

"Who has betrayed you? Because what I've seen so far is you have a loving best friend and boyfriend. Your dad loves you and his fiancé seems to like you just fine." Jennifer pulls her iPad off her desk. She crosses on leg over the other and rests her iPad on her lap.

Corrie snorts. "My dad is a piece of garbage that does nothing but fuck me over."

"How?"

"Everything is my fault." Corrie dry heaves for a second over the trash can before sitting back down. "Even stuff I don't do, or stuff I don't mean to happen. It's always my fault."

"What is your fault, Corrie?"

"His fiancé cheating on him, him losing a client because he's stuck up and can't negotiate. The car breaking down. His tires being slashed because he's a real ass—"

"Corrie lets try to refrain from cuss words.

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Corrie rolls his eyes before continuing. "The dog dying. The cat dying. It's all my fault."

"Why do get that you're not revealing the whole truth?" Jennifer asks.

Corrie ignores her question. He runs his face. He could kill so much time if he could just sleep.