Helena and the Rings

Chapter 1: The Smiley Face

After about three pen taps, he finally cleared his throat. "How do you feel about being home-schooled?"

I hated therapy. I hated it with a passion.

Dr. Ruspano was the reason I hated it. His office, which was located in his own house always smelled like alcohol. I got enough of that smell at home. He never paid attention to me. He goes, "Un-huh. Wow. Horrific," then pretend to write stuff down.

"Homeschool," I said. "Well, I don't know if you can call it that considering my mom doesn't teach me anything. We don't have any type of curriculum going on. Um-" I put my thumb on my chin, pretending to think, then snapped my fingers. "Oh, and my mom doesn't buy pencils or notebooks. So, I don't really know how to feel about it."

He stared at me for a second then wrote some more stuff down. I sat back, burying myself in the chair. He sighs. "Helena, I know it's a struggle at home, but have you ever thought about how your mom feels?"

There he goes again. Making my mom the victim and me the problem. My heart was racing because he always made me the bad guy. No, don't blame my alcoholic mother who beats me when her last bottle of vodka is gone. Don't blame the woman who burned me on my face with a cigarette bud when I was 10. Don't blame the woman who wasn't there to comfort me ten years ago when my father passed away.

"Helena?" He said, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I noticed my hand was balled into a fist. I slowly released it and he watched me as I do. I angrily stood up from my chair and headed towards the door. Dr. Ruspano didn't stop me, he watched me open the door. "Helena?" He said in a gentle voice.

I stepped one foot out of the door and looked at him before I left.

He smiled ."Don't blame your mother. She's really doing her best."

Did he call that her best?

"Dr. Ruspano?" I said. "Good day," my heart was about to explode from anger as I walked out of his office.

"Helena!" Briana said running towards me from out of her car. Her hair was tied in a bun which was odd because she normally left it out all the time.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"There's this party tonight," she said, twisting a strand of brown hair around her finger. "And I want you to come."

I sighed. "Sounds like fun, but you know my mom would freak out."

"Why? You're nearly 18. It'll be fine. I just want you there," she took my hand in hers. It was warm. I loved contact with other people. It was something I never really got. "You need to start living your life. You've been cooped in that dump too long."

Some people would get offended if their friend called their house a dump, but sadly, she was right. Cigs burned every inch of carpet and furniture at my place. "I can't. I'm sorry. I need to go home and...wash," I sniffed my shirt and smiled at her. "Sometimes I think my mom washes my clothes with alcohol."

Brianna gave me a weak smile. I read her facial expression. It was the same face expression a few people gave me. The, I feel sorry for you, expression. She let go of my hand. "I'll see you around then," she said in a dull voice.

I waved goodbye to her, feeling like there was a rock placed in my stomach. I had turned her down so many times before and now I felt like I was one more turn down away from losing my only friend. Feeling highly upset, I went to the only place my mother would allow me to visit besides my therapist.

My uncle Peter.

...

Uncle Peter was fixing a blue sports bike. It looked old but in a cool way. He got up and wiped his hands on a white towel when he spotted me walking towards the house.