Recovery

Cold as ice

Eve

I walked up to the front desk with my head hung as low as I could get it to go. The woman sitting behind the desk looked up at me with a warm smile.

"Hello, can I help you?" She asked, with her smile still gracefully sitting on her face.

"Yeah, Uh, I think I have the right place. I have an appointment with Dr. Black. It's at ten, I'm a little early." I whispered to the woman, still feeling shy.

"That's fine. We prefer you to  be early on your first appointment so you can fill out some forms. Whats your name sweetie?" She said, turning towards her computer.

"Eve. Eve Bright." I said still whispering, this time a bit lower because I was paranoid at someone overhearing.

"Okay, You're right here. Fill these forms out for us and when you're done just bring them back to me. You can have a seat over there." she said, pointing behind me with her pen.

I took the clipboard full of forms and headed for the small waiting area. I kept my head low and my oversized sunglasses on, just in case. I sat down in a chair, away from the other two people in the room. They must know one another because they looked deep in conversation. Good I don't want to talk to anyone anyways. I don't even want to talk to the doctor but, its mandatory.
As I filled out the forms I snickered to myself at how crazy some of the questions were. First I put my information down. My name, Eve Bright. My age, twenty four. My date of birth, October first 1993. My address, 47 Johnson Street, Hialeah Florida. My health insurance information. Then the crazy questions started. Have I had thoughts of suicide? Honestly, all the time but, I wasn't going to say that. I just wanted to get counseling over with, not make it drag on. So I lied. What drugs have you used, or are currently using? Well I mean, it would be easier to list the drugs I haven't used. I wrote down the obvious, Cocaine, marijuana, acid, ecstasy, and on some occasion mushrooms. I worked in a nightclub, drug use is almost apart of the job requirements. It was amazing to me how a simple questionnaire could make me feel like a delinquent. After a few more interrogating questions the form started asking me about my symptoms of mental health. Did I have trouble sleeping at night? Other than staying up all night on benders, and sleeping with random men I took home. Nope, I sleep like a baby. Do you sleep more than needed? Yeah, I like sleeping in. Is that a crime? Do you often feel tired after a full eight hours of sleep? Sometimes but, I always chalk it up to being hungover from the night before. Do you find it hard to get out of bed most days, or do you struggle to do everyday routines? What the hell does this question even mean? I already said I have close relationship with my bed. Yeah sometimes I don't brush my hair or change my clothes from the ones I just slept in. I was under the impression that, that was a regular thing. After a few more questions I finally finished the forms. I hope to god I don't have to answer anymore questions like that with my counselor. Who am I kidding? Of course I would.

I returned the clipboard and the pen to the friendly woman sitting behind the front desk. She thanked me with the same comforting smile and I nodded, still not making eye contact, and went back to my secluded seat in the corner. After about five minutes of staring at my toes, I gained some confidence and took a look around. There were still only two people in the small waiting room with me. The same two that were here when I first walked in. I didn't know them but, I don't know if they knew me. The two didn't look like they were here for drug counseling. Maybe they offered different types of help at this office. That would be cool. That way, if anyone recognized me I could just tell them I was here for something other than drugs. My thoughts were cut off by a slender blonde calling my name from a doorway. I got up from my hiding place and walked over to her. This time a bit more confident from when I first came in.