mental // niall horan

01 // unfamiliar

A/N: Hope ya enjoy, two updates this week! xo

Tilly

I rolled the window down as I sat hunched over staring at my iPhone screen in the back of Noah's car, instead of admiring the beautiful country scenery, but I'd rather be reminded of why I have the phone, rather then why I'm being driven so far from the city, far from society, and even further from my dream, normal.

I only have this stupid phone because my parents wanted me to feel loved before I left, not feel like the disgrace I am and have been all my life. They think since I want to be normal that I want all the latest technology and clothes, which I may add is the reason I have a complete new wardrobe packed in Noah's car trunk, but that's not normal to me.

Normal is someone who fits in. Isn't judged, is like everyone and isn't different.

All my life I've been different and I will tell you now, it does not feel good.

You could say it was my parents dream for me to feel normal and they think sending me here is going to help, but in my opinion it's going to make it worse.

Out here there is no normal, we're all mental.

It's so far away from normal, literally, everyone that comes out of this screwed up camp was probably better off before they went in.

How can shutting someone up in a cell a million miles away from normal life, with a drawing pad and suitcase or in my case, all their belongings, since Dave and Nadine were so desperate to get me out of their life, ever make someone be normal? let alone feel normal.

I pulled my lighter out of my back pocket and light my cigarette and placed it to the corner of my mouth. Inhaling, I extend my neck so I can feel the wind blow on the tip of my nose, and take a proper look at the scenery. Pine trees, Bon fires and dry grass fill my nose and remind me of all the music festivals I should be going to this summer, of all the festivals I won't be going too. I exhale, the divine smell of smoke engulfs in my nostrils and my thoughts disappear and I stare down at my phone again.

I click into my newly downloaded app, Instagram, and create a profile:

@Tilly_Summers

17 | NYC, is where I'd rather be, I type into my bio.

I lift my phone out of my lap and snap a picture of my cigarette and the fast-moving scenery in the background.

"Off to rehab is where it's at!" I caption my first photo and lean against the car door, the smell of smoke intoxicating me into a doze once again.

~~~

"Oi, Tils, we are officially here" Noah's soothing voice wakes me from my short nap.

I sigh, and unclip my seatbelt then open the car door. The door creaks, and oh how I will miss that sound when I'm as far away from Noah as possible.

I drop my cigarette on the concrete and scuff my new black Windsor smith sole over the top. Now, these belong to me.

I lift my head and look around the area.

Four rows of dark red 5x5m cabins are to my left, a white two storey building dominates the area infront of me, a small run down outdoor swimming pool is to my right and from what I've gathered, the entry, or exit is behind me.

I unenthusiastically jog around to the back of Noah's car where he is unloading stuff from the trunk and packing it all onto a rusty trolley they he must of grabbed from one of the many other trolleys infront of the white building.