Damaged beyond repair

Chapter 3

Simone taps on the window of the car door. I can feel fear slowly taking over again. We're standing in front of the new school, yet another college. Is this really what I want? What's the point anyway? They'll get tired of me within a month. Simone insisted though, I need a diploma, she says. She refuses to stand by and watch my future slip away from me.

"Come, Lex, let's go inside," she begs me.

Reluctantly, I open the door and get out of the car. I have to admit that the past months have been hell. Spending months alone in your room surrounded by nothing but your paintings can get real boring. But to rejoin society, get back in the crowd... It comes with so many risks. It won't work out either way. For now, though, all I have to do is speak with the principle.

I follow Simone inside, with my hands safely in my pockets. What kind of college was this again? I have no idea. I never remember, for I never last long enough for it to matter. I look up. It's just a small building, a lot smaller than all of the past colleges I attended. Somehow that comforts me. Smaller school, smaller crowds, right? The inside reminds me a bit of my old high school. Cold and depressing, all greyish white walls and white flooring. There's a man standing in the middle of the hallway, who seems to be waiting for us. He smiles at Simone and holds out his hand. This must be the principle.

"Welcome, good to see you. My name is Bob Lissey, and you must be Mrs. Smith!"

Simone smiles. "Please, call me Simone. And this is Alexander."

Bob doesn't hold out his hand this time, he just nods. Simone told him already. He leads us to his office. The corridors are mostly empty, which must mean classes are still going. Bob closes the door behind him and gestures towards the chairs in front of his desk. I sit down.

"I have received dr. Nolan's message," Bob says. This one doesn't like beating around the bush, apparently. "I have read it carefully and have come up with a guidance plan."

He now turns to me and now addresses me personally, something I'm not used to. For the first time, I feel like a person, not a case.

"We acknowledge your problem, and are happy to let you know we can offer you a safe learning environment. You chose the perfect college, our teachers have been trained to deal with different disorders, for example PTSD. Not many adaptations will be necessary, so we can do our best to give you everything you require."

I am astounded. This all sounds incredibly positive. Too positive. My mind instantly blocks him out. I don't trust him anymore.

"We want to take away as many insecurities as we can, and to make sure we do just that, there will be a briefing. All of your teachers will be made aware of your situation. We will also make sure the students are informed as well."

I violently shake my head. That's not what I want or need at all. I don't want do become "The PTSD-guy" on the first day.

"Please, no, I don't want people to treat me differently. I just can't be touched, that's all."

Bob nods.

"Okay, no problem. I will pass it on, don't you worry. We will help you any way we can."

I nod. So far, it sounds good. Different. Maybe this time, I will give it a chance, who knows, maybe it really will be different this time. As soon as I'm thinking this, my head found a space to put that hope in, slams the door and turns the key. Better put it away. I'd much rather be pessimistic. That way, you can only be right or surprised. I can't handle disappointment. He and Simone keep talking for a while, and I can feel my attention slipping. So when Simone suddenly gets up, I'm startled. She and Bob are staring at me. I get up quickly, realizing that the conversation has ended already.

"Alexander, thank you for choosing our college. You won't regret it."

He smiles at me, and is trying to read my reaction. I try to get myself to smile as well, but I can't. I just nod and walk away. I know I can come across as rude sometimes, but it's like I don't know any other way to deal with it. It's not like I'm not trying, I really am, so hard. Something inside me just blocks. Simone follows me but doesn't say anything. She's giving me time to process all of the new information. That really helps.

The entire ride home I remain silent. I turn on the radio to battle the silence, for I know Simone hates it. From the corner of my eye I can spot her glancing at me, and I know she's thinking about something to say.

"Thank you," I hear myself say, and for a second I startle myself.

Simone just looks at me.

"For what, dear?"

"For believing in me."

She smiles at me.

"You don't have to thank me. It's about time you see that. You can do this."

Her words warm me, even though I know she's wrong. It still feels nice.

"I've given your e-mail to your principle, you'll receive your school plan by the end of this week."

"When will school start again?" I ask.

"It already has, but you'll only have missed the first week. But that's mostly introductions anyway. You don't have to participate, I already took care of that."

I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for Simone...

I close my umbrella, and pause in the halls of my new college, and for a second I consider just turning around and going back home, but Bob's already waiting for me.

"Hello Alexander! Well, are you ready?"

No, not at all, and I never will be. But that doesn't keep me from nodding. I'll have to be. I follow him to one of the classrooms. I feel awful, completely out of my comfort zone, knowing I will be put in front of a large group of people and will have to introduce myself to them. They probably know more about me already than I know about them. Bob opens the door for me and announces my arrival to the teacher. I walk in, and thank god for what I see. There's only 12 people inside, a sigh of relief escapes me. It's just a small group, especially compared to the large classes at my last college.

The teacher looks at me, waiting. As he looks at me, he starts noticing my scars. He checks me, up and down. Yes, I have scars, and yes, there are more.

"Good morning," he then says, "should I introduce you, or would you rather do it yourself?"

I know he means well, and I know his only intention is to help me, but I immediately feel like a toddler. The class feels exactly the same, I can tell by the soft snickering. I don't answer him and turn towards the group.

"My name is Lex, I'm 23 years old and I love to paint," is all that comes out of my mouth. A few students laugh. My first thought is to run towards the back of the class and hide, but one of the students puts up his hand.

"Davey, ask away," the teacher then says. Just the name sends shivers down my spine. A few students seem to have noticed, and start to point and gossip right away. I force myself to look at Davey.

"The list says your name is Alexander, that name too long for ya?" He asks, his eyes daring me to engage. He crosses his arms and waits patiently. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, which is then answered with laughter. As the teacher tries to gain control of the class, someone else raises their hand.

"Why do you have PTSD?" He asks. I freeze. Here we go. It never takes very long.

"Sven, it's not like anyone's asking you why you're such an ass. Just shut up already!"

I look up, and see the girl in the front has turned towards him, glaring at him. Her wavy, black hair reaches up to her elbows. She turns around and looks at me. I can't tell how long I've stared into her big brown eyes, but it was as if they looked into my soul. I felt like an opened book, ready to be read by her. Then she smiles at me, and all my thoughts stop.

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