Autumn • Complete

Counselling.

"Autumn? Autumn?" I look up at my counsellor, forcing a smile upon my face.

"Yes?" My voice is cracked, dry. I take a gulp of my water as he starts talking again.

"You're going to have to talk about it eventually, so you might as well start now, Autumn." He's right. But nobody wants to talk about suicide and why they were driven towards it. But I guess I have no choice, really. So I start to talk.

"I was being bullied. I had no friends, and I- I wanted to die. My wrists were my only choice. I don't want to talk about it anymore." I tuck my feet underneath my on the smooth leather couch, and feel a salty warm tear slip down my face.

"You may go now, Autumn. See you next week at social counselling," He smiles at me, and I give a weak smile back, standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder. For my counsellor, getting me to talk about the 'accident' is an achievement, but to me it jut feels like I'm letting my guard down too low, letting people see the storm inside of me. This pain inside just won't go away, and nobody can make it. Not even me.

I wish I could.

---

I haven't been to school since the 'accident'. I don't know why they make me call it the accident, as I definitely did it on purpose. I had a lot of my life left to live for, but nobody else thought I did, and I thought they were right.

Dad waits for me in the car outside the Counselling place. Me and Dad get along well, which is why I moved up here with him. Mom and I were at each others throats all day and all night. School gave me a year off, and said I could catch up when I feel I can go back. Dad spends most of his time in his study, which is good because it gives me the alone time I need.

When we get back to the house Dad heads off to his study, and I go to my room to change into running clothes. A few weeks after the 'accident' I took up running which took my mind off what I'd done and who I'd hurt.

Running always helps clear my mind, the way drinking coffee helps clear others'. Being alone with nothing to do all day may seem boring, but its really not. It's nice to have a bit of space from all human contact.

I'm out of the door and into the woods before you could say 'Autumn'. It's Autumn at the moment, the season in which I was named. That's one of the reasons I was bullied. My crappy name.

The woods are a beautiful golden brown colour, with varieties of red, yellow and orange in the leaves on the ground and the ones left on the spindly trees. The only sound is my running shoes pounding on the floor. When I get to the lake I splash a little water on my face, and exhale the breath I didn't realise I was holding in.

My Dad lives in a quiet country house in the north of Wyoming. Rural, peaceful, and quiet: my perfect place. I've been here three months, but haven't made contact with anyone my age, although next week I probably will. My counsellor is forcing me to go to a group therapy session in hope that I'll share the news of my accident and make some friends. He's got no hope in me doing that. None whatsoever. Ever since the bullying, I haven't wanted friends.

I start to run again, feeling slightly more refreshed. Dad's car is gone when I get back, so he must've gone out to get something for work. When I get to my room I peel of my running clothes and head for a hot shower.

---

After my scalding shower I change into sleeping shorts and a tank, and pad to the kitchen, where I shove a pot noodle into the microwave and pot myself a glass of water.

Upstairs I put a movie in the DVD player, and fall asleep to it after finishing my pot noodle.

I actually hate pot noodle, but its small, and fills me up.

---

"Honey?" Dad's voice wakes me from my somewhat peaceful sleep.

"Hmm?" I mumble, adjusting to my surroundings.

"You need to get ready for Social Counselling." Dad smiles at me, and I jump out of bed to give him a hug. Dad helped me through my almost death when Mum couldn't.

"Okay, love you." I whisper into his ear, and he heads off to work.

I pull on deep blue skinny jeans and a black sweater. It can get really cold here in Autumn, even though it gets worse in Winter. I pull on black ankle high boots and sling my bag onto my shoulder.

After brushing my teeth and hair I call a taxi, which arrives quickly. I use taxis all the time, and I suppose you could say I'm their most regular customer. They sent flowers when I was in hospital.

"Where to, Autumn?" Even the taxi drivers know my name.

"Ummm..." I have to think to remember the place. "Dr. Isaac's psychological and mental health centre." It sounds like an awful place, but with its mint green walls, comfy sofas and friendly receptionists, it's not that bad.

The driver pulls up outside, and I head on in.

Just kidding. Its awful

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