Crash into You

Chapter Seventeen

"Just five more minutes, mom," I said, keeping my eyes on the driveway from my spot near the window. "She promised she'd go with us." In truth Clare hadn't promised to go with me to Ridgewood nor had she responded to the seven texts I sent her asking where she was. "If she's not here in five minutes we'll go without her."

"You've said that eight times now, Devlin," my mom said, coming up behind me to rest a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry your friend hasn't shown up, but we have to go. We're already going to be late."

"Five more minutes," I gritted out, shirking free of her light grasp on my shoulder. She wasn't coming. I knew she wasn't after the first five minutes, but I kept waiting for her anyway. She'd called my bluff, leaving me to have to endure my mother's feigned concern and looks of mock sympathy on the drive to Ridgewood.

"I'll put your suitcase in the car," she said with a heavy sigh.

She picked up the suitcase and walked away, the angry stuccato of her high heels against the hardwood floor grating on my last nerve. The sooner she got rid of me, the quicker she could forget about me for however long they kept me locked up this time.

I waited the full five minutes out of spite, and made no attempt to make small talk with her during the drive to Ridgewood. She left me to get my suitcase, hurrying on ahead to speak to Doctor Livingston before I entered the cheery reception area with floor to ceiling tinted windows to let the muted sunshine bathe the tables and chairs in a warm glow.

Dropping my suitcase on the ground, I sunk into one of the hard plastic chairs to wait while my mother talked to the receptionist and then Doctor Livingston. All-too-soon, two security guards came out to get me, one of them picking up my suitcase, and without saying goodbye to my mom I followed them into the next room where the bulkier of the two waved a metal detector over my body. Although I expected it and understood the reasons behind it, being checked for possible weapons still made me cringe.

The thinner guard rummaged through my suitcase, pulling out three pairs of shorts, sweatpants, and my favorite black My Chemical Romance hoodie with a picture of a marching skeleton with a top hat and baton, and the words 'The Black Parade' running down the length of both sleeves. "I'm sorry, but drawstrings aren't permitted," he said, setting the clothes aside. "We'll make sure your mother gets them to take home with her."

"Whatever." I shrugged, watching him unpack the rest of my clothes to check for any hidden pills or whatever else I might use to harm myself with. "Are cigarettes still allowed?"

"The hospital doesn't encourage smoking, but it's not forbidden," the bulkier guard said. "There are designated areas, but you'll have to ask one of the nurses for a light."

"Why?"

"Last month a patient used a lighter to set his clothes on fire. Since then the administrators banned patients from having them."

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but snapped it shut as the inner door opened and a pretty blond nurse motioned for me to follow her. "I'm Angela," she said as the door clicked shut, locking me inside. "Not much has changed since the last time you were here," she added as we walked along the sterile white hallway, and stopped at the nurse's station. The chunky nurse sitting at the front desk handed Angela a wristband with my name on it. "We use the wristbands-"

"I know what the bracelets are for," I said holding out my wrist for her to put it on.

"Okay, If you lose it, ask one of the nurses to get you another," she said, starting forward again. "Breakfast is served at eight a.m., lunch at noon, and dinner at six. After your initial meeting with Doctor Livingston this morning, your appointments will be added to the list, and you'll need to be on time for those." She glanced my way, and I nodded. "We have three scheduled group sessions a day, and we strongly encourage everyone to participate while in group therapy."