13 Resons Why Imagines

Alex Standall|Therapy

Warnings: Suicide talk and talk about eating disorders

You sat there and inspected your bitten down nails as one of the girls went on about the shittiness of life and the unfairness of it all. Yes, life sucks, what’s new?

“What have you got to say about this all, (y/n)?” The leader, Peter, asked you.

You lazily looked up from your nails and made eye contact with the man who seemed to have a creepy obsession with the support group. I mean he ran it as if it were a children’s day care.

“‘Society’s to blame. The world is so unfair. I have to die. There’s no point in blaming everybody…live with it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders and returning back to your nails. 

Anything was more interesting than this support group. Everyone here annoyed you, especially Peter. You didn’t see why your mom thought it necessary for you to attend just because you skipped a few meals.

“Well, (y/n), do you think there’s any way you could express your feelings without disreg-” Peter started, but not before he was interrupted by two people entering the room.

“I’m so sorry he’s late,” a man dressed in cop uniform apologised.

Next to him was a scrawny looking boy with a cane and an evident limp. He looked just about as happy as you to be here.

“Oh it’s no worry,” Peter smiled, motioning for the boy to take a seat.

“I’ll see you later, son,” the man said, patting the boy on the back and exiting the room.

The boy limped over to the empty seat that happened to be next to you. Wonderful, a newbie. 

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” Peter asked in a cheerful tone. God he was just so happy all the time you could slap him.

“Uh-well, I’m Alex, I’m seventeen, and my dad forced me to be here,” he said, pursing his lips and nodding his head.

“Well that’s a start,” Peter laughed, looking around the room to try and lighten the depressing mood, “welcome, Alex!”

Alex responded by simply nodding at Peter and then slouching back in his chair with a sigh. You sat next to the new boy for a while, now and then looking at him, but remaining in silence. Both of you had your arms crossed and arguably the worst posture in the room. It was evident the two of you couldn’t give a shit about what was being said in the support group, probably due to the fact you were both reluctant to come and in fact forced to by your parents.

You saw that the fragile looking boy was kicking at his walking stick lightly, a signal that he was bored out of his mind as he clicked his tongue. 

“So, why’re you here?” You asked quietly, not wanting to draw attention from the rest of the circle.

Alex stopped kicking and made eye contact with you.

“I shot myself in the head,” he said nonchalantly, as if his words carried no weight.

You thought for a second and simply responded with, “nice.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and shot you a weird glance.

“Did you just say, ‘nice’?” He asked, confusedly.

“Yup,” you responded, popping the ‘p’.

Alex shook his head a little and let out a small chuckle, “yes attempted suicide, very ‘nice’.”

“Lovely isn’t it,” you said sarcastically.

“You know we probably shouldn’t be joking about this shit seeing as this support group is being held in the basement of the town’s church,” Alex laughed.

“That is a valid point,” you nodded.

An awkward silence fell upon the two of you even though there was still conversation going on between the rest of the support group, someone had even started to cry.

“So, why’re you here…” Alex asked, mimicking your previous question.

“Skipped a few meals, mom thinks I’m an anorexic,” you shrugged.

“Just a few?” He questioned.

“It’s whatever,” you retorted, not wanting to continue talking about it.

“Okay…well what’s your name anyway?” H.e asked

“(y/n).” You said.

“Cool name.” He nodded awkwardly.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“What’s with the cane?” You asked, gesturing to his walking stick.

“I’m a cripple.” He sighed.

“Well, clearly, but has that got to do with the…” You said, not wanting to actually say it just in case he was really sensitive about it.

“Yeah,” He shrugged, “I’m basically broken.”

His tone seemed light hearted and jokey but there was an underlying painful strain to his voice.

“Welcome to the club,” you replied, half smiling at the new boy.

“Much appreciated,” he laughed, “so you go to Liberty too?”

“Yeah, shit hole of a school though,” you sighed.

“Couldn’t agree more, it’s all fucking bullshit,” he replied, the hatred he had for the system hard to miss.

“But it’s kind of entertaining seeing how scared they’ve all got after this lawsuit with the Bakers,” you said, shaking your head.

“Yeah, but it’s fucked. I went back last week for the first time since…you know, and apparently you’re not even allowed to talk about suicide,” he muttered.

“Oh shit…you’re the kid who shot himself and started this whole suicide contagion frenzy,” you said, remembering the events, you hadn’t put the pieces together until then.

To say you were out of the loop with most things at your school was an understatement. You’d never seen Alex before in your life before today even though he’s at Liberty too.

“Yeah…that’s me…Alex Standall,” he said, an almost sarcastic tone to his voice.

“Well, Alex, you’ve made this weeks support group meeting almost bearable for me, so thank you,” you said, standing up from your seat as you heard Peter make his weekly closing ‘love yourself’ speech that didn’t even make sense.

“I’m glad my dad forcing me to come here actually did some good,” he laughed, his stance wobbly until he gripped his cane.

“Until next week,” you half smiled at the scrawny boy, sending him a small wave which he returned.

Something told you that the two of you were going to get along quite well.

🦋🌟🌹-Lo