The Problem is Me [EDITED)

Chapter 4

September, 2014

No one's born evil. Everyone at one point was a gurgling bundle of blankets and squidgy cheeks. I'm not excluding myself here; I'll have you know that I was an adorable child, really.

You've probably inferred by now that things were hectic growing up, and I think that's the real reason I am the way I am now. My dad used to use me as a punching bag, and my mom didn't care. But that isn't the main point, the main point is that because I knew no different from being hit by an angry drunk, I thought it was normal and was used to it in a sense.

I began to put up walls between everyone else and me, I'd block them all out when they tried to care for me, and when they wanted me to care for them. It's actually got to the point now where I don't feel the same things others do. Don't get me wrong, I understand why people feel and react the way they do, but I just don't feel it myself. Call it cognitive empathy if you'd like.

Without meaning to, I became a master of disguise.

I'm not insane, you know that. Yet here I am locked away from the rest of society because I'm a danger to them. They really don't shine a good light on me, do they?

It has been a week and a half or something like that since I got here. It's the same fucking day, every single day. I'm sick of it, but most of all I'm incredibly bored.

As per usual, I, alongside the others, was staring blankly at the clock whilst Gage and the therapist bounced off each other like a cat and mouse. Davies would tell him he needed to calm down, and Gage would tell him he needed to shut the fuck up. It was a repetitive process, really.

There were a couple of new faces today, one of them was a boy who didn't look much older than twelve with his head hung low and his eyes only drifting upwards once or twice when he was greeted by Colton.

But the one who caught my eye was the guy sat next to him; he was leaning forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees. He looked almost like he was proud to be here which I think is impossible. The dude had blonde-brown hair that was weakly styled, and the kid I mentioned earlier looked almost identical to him but in smaller form.

"Nathan, I trust you'll be pleased to know that you are no longer the new kid on the block!" Davies joked pathetically.

At his comment everyone turned to look at the new people, and the girls obviously swooned over the older one. It didn't bother me as much as it should have. Of course, I could reel them back in within about five minutes but it just wasn't worth the effort. Anything that stopped Alexis getting below the belt was enough to keep me level headed.

Although I will miss the free drinks.

The younger one introduced himself as Landon but of course the older one had to make a spectacle.

"Seeing as you're all gawking at me, I'm Jayden. I'm seventeen and a lot of people like to address me as the psycho next door." He sang happily.

Gage snorted, "Oh great. Another up and coming serial killer in here, maybe you could join up with that sociopath Nathan." He nodded his head over to me and I just laughed loudly and rolled my eyes.

"So what, you're just going to go around diagnosing people now?" I asked patronizingly.

"Not a diagnosis, more of an observation. I'm just helping people out here, selflessly." He shrugged.

I inhaled deeply, "Aren't you just quite the humanitarian?"

"What's a sociopath?" Leah asked innocently.

"Good question, Leah." Davies smiled- "A sociopath is typically a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behaviour."

"Oh, so do you think anyone else in here is a socio-thingamajig." She shrugged questionably and Davies eyes automatically flickered to me. He knows, I thought.

"I cannot give out other people's personal information, Amelia." Davies raised an eyebrow at me and started writing something down on his little clipboard. I glanced away uninterested as he probably wrote down some notes on someone in here, probably me.

"But- a sociopath will lack empathy and have a complete disregard for others, so be careful if you ever become associated with one." He looked at Evan and then to me, the bastard.

By the time everyone had finished arguing, and I had finished drinking coffee, it was time for us to go. I decided to just skip lunch, which may as well be the ultimate sin in this place but I wasn't in the mood for meaningless conversations with meaningless people.

When lunch ended, Evan came into our room with a weird look in his eye.

"Did you skip lunch?" He asked accusingly.

"Sure did." I replied.

Evan smirked, "You know they're gonna be on your ass about that, right?"

"Who isn't on my ass about something?" I laughed.

Evan flunked down on his bed dramatically, "That's a fair point, actually."

I carried on flicking aimlessly through the magazine that Evan had left on the table; it was something to do with marvel characters. Not quite my cup of tea.

"Nate?" Evan asked.

I turned to look at him and raised my eyebrows. "Evan?" I replied, dragging out the 'n'.

"What they were talking about in group today, are you one of them?" He asked.

I looked at him strangely, "Are you on drugs?" I scoffed. "Of course I'm not."

"Right..." He drawled skeptically, keeping his eyes on me.

I laughed bitterly, "That's a good one, Evan."

"Then what is it, then? What the hell is wrong with you?" Evan asked again, a slight edge to his voice. I could tell he was getting pissed off with me avoiding his questions, but that was the whole point.

"I believe the answer to that question, quite like the answer to every other question you've asked me, is that I'm simply just smart." I smiled.

"Being smart gets you into Oxford, not a mental institution." Evan stated blandly, with an expressionless look passing across his features.

"You never know, perhaps this is Oxford and they're just lying to the outside world so the dumb people don't get jealous." I winked.

He laughed, "Yeah yeah, sure."

I had to go see my therapist after that, for a daily check-up. As if sitting in that damn group for sixty minutes wasn't enough, but nevertheless I found myself in the same position as I do everyday where the same things will happen, as they do everyday.

"Are you okay?"

"Tell me more about that."

"Are you sure?"

"Go on."

It's quite hard for me to bite my tongue whilst they're drilling phrases like that down my ear holes. Nowadays I'm usually quite good at holding my temper; I'm generally a well reserved person. I don't tend to smash up rooms, or hit people as much as I used to. If you'd met me three years ago you wouldn't believe it was me. I was impulsive, rude, hostile, and openly manipulative. And I still am, but you'd never know it. Good god, you'd never suspect a thing anymore.

I tend to let out my frustration through less violent measures now, I usually only hurt people emotionally, and I haven't really been doing much of that as of recently.

For a second there I thought I might be changing for the better, and then I thought it through again and came to my senses.

Of course I'm not.