Imagine That! [5sos]

Walking Travesty

"Your next appointment is Thursday, Mr. Hood." the receptionist says monotonously.

The bitter teen took the card and slid it in his back pocket, planning already to dump it in the trash outside. The squeak of his worn down Vans bounced off his ear drums. The hallways always making him want to rip out his eyeballs, all the "positive" quotes and "inspiring" words made him sick. How could you be happy in a world like this?

Hurrying out the door, he ran into a girl with hair darker than the sky above them. She had brown eyes, though they looked muddy and tears rimmed her eyelids. Oh, she belonged here as much as he did.

"Sorry." She mutters as she pushes past him into the building, running down the hall into the room he was previously in.

He slides his sunglasses on and continues his trek to the car, hoping, maybe wanting to see that girl again. He might even take it under the same conditions as now.

--Next Week Thursday--

"So Calum, how do you think your development has been since the last time?" Mrs. Harden asks.

I stare with a blank expression and sarcastically reply, "Well. I've been coming here on and off again for a year, so obviously, there hasn't been much development."

She sighs before speaking again, "Okay, Calum, we've run out of time. I'll see you next week and we'll try a different method of opening up. Speak to Brenda for your next appointment."

I get up and leave, waving off my therapist. Brenda already has my appointment card slid out on the desk, so I retrieve it and walk out the door, averting my eyes from the "inspiration" that dawned the hallway walls I had to leave.

Searching for my car keys, I stumble into someone else. I catch the person in my arms, hoping that they are okay. I look down to see the girl from last week. Her appearance hadn't changed much, beyond the look of crying not evident in her eyes.

"Hi, do you wanna bail with me? I'm fucking sick of therapy." the girl asks, staring back at me, who is in total shock.

"Um, yeah. I'd like that." I reply as the girl stands and follows me to my Honda.

----------------------------------------

"So, why are you in that hellhole?" The girl, now known as Ariel, questioned while slurping down a Sonic's milkshake.

"Isn't there some rule about what happens in therapy, stays there?" I sass back, just wanting to keep my problems away from our budding acquaintanceship.

"No, dipshit. That's only in group therapy, which is one thing I'll never participate in." she responds, rolling her eyes in the process.

I clear my throat and look back at her. Her jet black mane was in a tight braid and dawned an aged KISS shirt, paired with dark wash jeans. She looked trustworthy enough. That, and the fact that she was in therapy, too, so she couldn't be completely sane either.

"I'll tell you why if you tell me why you're there."

She nods, "Sure, 'cause I have nothing to hide."

"Well, my father was cheating on my mother, had been for years. She finds out 6 months ago and flips 360 entirely. Kicks him out, starts drinking, and becomes more...wild. She brings home men, fucks 'em, and argues with them until dawn hits, then kicks them out, too," I begin, the memories coming back all too well.

"You can stop if you wa-" she interrupts, but I hold a hand up.

"No point." I mumble and she nods slowly.