Wake Me Up When September Ends ➳ Ticci Toby

1| Therapy

[the video is how Toby talks in this book]

The young h/c haired girl covered her mouth as she almost spit the coffee she was just drinking out of her mouth. "You mean THAT mental health building? The one that that kid who killed his dad and set his street on fire four years ago went to?!" She exclaimed to her mother, not hesitating to show clear disinterest.

The older women sighed, nodding. "Yes, that one. But think about it, Y/n. It was four years ago." She said.

The younger teenager fumed. "Just think about it?! Just think about this, mom, the police STILL haven't found the guy, not just that, since THAT day they're have been at least 1 murder every 2 mother-fucking-months! How do we know it isn't him? How haven't the police fucking caught him?! How the hell do I know he's not haunting the damn place! I'm not going there mom. Screw that mental health building, I don't even need therapy. I'd rather stay alive, thank you."

The young girls mother just shook her head, sighing heavily, once again. "You know you're required to take therapy now. I know what happened four years ago, along with the murders are scary. But you'll get taken away and put in a home of you don't go. And after you turn 18, your still required to take it or you'll get into quite some trouble. You need to take it for four years before you're free from it. But don't cause a ruckus and all, because they'll require more years."

"Wait—— so I have to go until I'm fucking 21?!"

"Sigh, yes, Y/n. The schools requiring it. They feel as if something is really wrong, you don't talk much to anyone, you isolate yourself, that..." her mom stopped, her gaze falling to
Y/n's arms.

Y/n quickly moved her arms under the table. "Well.... It's your fault!" Y/n stood up quickly, making her chair fall backwards, causing everyone in the coffee shops' attention to go on her and her mom. "It's your fault! For bringing that bastard into OUR goddamn house!" She yelled before storming out of the restaurant.

______________________

Y/n sighed, now in front of the mental health building that a serial killer once went to. She wondered; who could have possibly tried to, but failed to, help the troubled teen?

She sighed, knowing she better get used to it. After all, this is where she will spend the next 4 years. Taking a couple of steps towards the building, she muttered a few profanities. She really didn't like talking to other human beings, especially about the personal problems she suffers from. It was just the way she was. She couldn't help it.

On the way in, she could see an old couple crying, an ambulance was there. Someone must be getting transported to the hospital, or a psychotic ward. Somewhere they think is a "better settlement" for some troubled people that go there. The elderly couple seemed to be in deep fear and hurt, as the cries and wailing of the elderly women had gotten louder.

"Annoying oldheads" Y/n muttered, throwing up her hoodie onto her head. She entered the building, to see a metal detector. 'Shit', she thought, 'I have a pocket knife on me'. She did the first thing she could think of, she ran out of the building, taking her phone out of her pocket, and dialing the buildings number, bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to reschedule an appointment.."

_____________

"You what?!" Her mother exclaimed. "You rescheduled your appointment?! Why would you do that?! You know you have to go there, and you know that it's required. Why?!" Her mothers boyfriend just shook his head in disappointment. Of course, he didn't like Y/n. He despised her, actually. And she felt the same passion of hate.

Y/n just sighed, knowing it wasn't a big deal, although her mother was clearly making it one. "I had a pocket knife on me, and when I went in, there were metal detectors. And I know I'd probably get in trouble for it. But it's not like I did just not show up there, so we shouldn't have a problem with them, now will we?" Y/n tapped on the wooden table she currently sat at, inpatient to be done with this conversation.

Her mother sighed anxiously. "When is your next appointment?" She was thankful her mother was easy-going.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me?" Her mother's boyfriend butted in. "She needs to be disciplined for this type of behavior. She rescheduled an important appointment she KNEW she had to go to, and not just that, she's carrying a god damn pocket knife on her? That's entirely unacceptable!"

"How was I suppose to know they had metal detectors? And at least I didn't just leave without calling them! I did the right thing, didn't I mom?!" She spat back, looking at her mom. Her mother just stayed quiet. "... Mom..?.." she said again, more sadly.

".... He's right, Y/n. You must get disciplined for that. It's not right to be walking around with a weapon, you shouldn't be doing it. And you knew how important this appointment was." Her mom replied, looking towards the floor.

Y/n knew she could just try right now. Her mom was always taking his side, it's like she just doesn't care about her anymore. She always spends time with him, always is out with him, always takes his side. Does she not love her anymore? "Your mothers right, Y/n. Now, hand over the knife." Her boyfriend said. Y/n hesitantly took the knife out of her pocket, placing it into his hand.

She stood up, and rushed out of the room. If her mom only wants her boyfriend, then so be it. 'I don't need her,' Y/n thought, 'I don't need anybody. I got myself, that's all I need. That's all I'll ever need.'

After all, it's been that way since her best friend died four years ago....