The Life of A Teenage Nymphomaniac (Paused)

One

I’ve always hated the first day of school. Even now when I’m in an entirely new state, soon to be surrounded by people I’ve never met before, I am dreading walking into the halls of Dr. Jefferson High School. Still, I guess anything is better than being held up in this room for another minute longer. After I got out of the hospital after my house became ash, I moved in with my aunt Ellie and her son, my little cousin Titus. Surprisingly, they’ve both been extremely welcoming, well as welcoming as two strangers can be I guess. Once I was all set up in her house, I spent almost every moment asleep due to the powerful painkillers I was on. When I was finally deemed, “up to it” aunt El dragged me out of bed and took me to my new, court appointed therapist.

Oh, did I forget to mention that El is trying to put my dad in jail. Yes, the minute she found out what happened and what he did to me, she called up her lawyer and began the tedious legal process of prosecution. The local police promised to give her the the justice she craved. Well, they would as soon as they found him. Soon after, no, the minute the house went up in flames he and his sketchy friends fled the scene, leaving me to die. Luckily for me, our neighbor had seen the smoke before any serious damage was done to me. Just a few mental scars and yearning thoughts wondering why he left me. But I guess it’s not entirely his fault, he was probably too high to remember that he had a daughter.

Anyways, this therapist, Dr…. I want to say her name rhymes with cheesy tried to talk to me about my “mental and/or physical abuse” and I told her that I didn't want to talk about it. She respected my wishes, sort of, and proceeded to ask me seemingly random question for the rest of our time together. After the fourth question I realized these “innocent” queries were just another way of getting me to talk about my dad indirectly. I, in return, called her out on her bullshit and all she did was grin at me.

“What a perceptive young woman,” She patronized.

After that, I told her to ‘go fuck herself’ in the most polite of terms to which she replied, “I think I’ve gotten all that I needed, I’ll call you with the results later.”

Turned out, those results happened to be a slew of mental disorders and a shit ton of pills that I have to take now. For someone who thinks im quote on quote “unstable” she sure does trust that I wont take one too many of these slightly addictive SSRIs. But there's no point to it anyway. After my last attempt to “end it all” my aunt has taken the liberty of watching every move I make closely. She didn't even want me to go to school today. My therapist argued that it would be good for me to get out of the house, and to my dismay I agreed with her. Ellie subsequently, took me on a day long shopping spree, buying me an entire wardrobe and brightly colored items to go in my room. We had agreed that if my clothes were all going to be some variation on the color black then my room would be every girly girl’s wet dream.

Even still, wearing something I felt comfortable in, and being drugged up on antidepressants still did nothing to stop the nerves about this new school year. I could barely sleep last night, even with the help of a sleep aid, also prescribed to me by Dr.Lactose. I kept fantasizing, or more accurately having nightmares, about my sophomore year.

I had this one recurring dream where I would walk into school all confident about my new self, people would ooh and aah, talking about the new girl who roamed the halls. Until I bumped into a wall and fell flat on my ass. Laughter would start, and as I looked around me I saw the faces of my former classmates, pointing at me, as something warm gathered on my chest. I looked down and saw blood, seeping out, my heart literally beating out of my chest until I…

Well you get the picture. (Sorry didn’t mean to mentally scar any one you)

So when I got up this morning, drenched in sweat instead, I took a scorching shower and scrubbed my skin raw, a habit I’ve got into in place of any real physical harm I could do to myself. So now as I stand in front of my full body mirror dressed in dark washed denim and a black hoodie way too big for my new body I slightly regret it. The denim rubbing against my legs slightly sting, I’m sure it’d hurt a hell of a lot more had it not been for these mind numbing drugs I’m on.