Evanescent

The First Chapter

What was love, really? Was it a disease? Or perhaps just some chemical reaction in the brain? In that case, what was happiness? Or sadness? Or even anger? They're emotions. Words. Fleeting little somethings that are there one moment and gone the next. As cynical as I may sound, a part of you knows that my words ring true in some way.

My name is Lapis (lah-pees) Anne Dean. People call me Lahn for short; only some call me Lapis. Few people, very few. Well, only two people really. They're my only friends; Hero Roman and Razine Criss, who prefers to go by Razor. They're the only ones that understand me.

We met in group. More specifically, the Troubled Teens Help group. Or as we prefer, Hellians Anonymous. Basically, there were six of us per group; four groups total. My group, Group 1, was for those who needed immediate help or was at some point a danger to themselves. I was the latter.

My group consisted of: Hero Roman, the wannabe bad boy; Razine Criss, who dyed her short hair a new color every other week; Benson DiMaggio, the boy who never spoke; Reyes Adame, the former soccer star with a horrid attitude and a scar marking the left side of his jaw; Reid Brady, who always wore long sleeves and never looked up from the drawing pad he'd hold close to his body; and me, Lapis.

We were all different, both outside and inside. Yet, we were all the same. The six of us had issues that no amount of money or doctors could help, but none seemed to care enough to fix it. Hero was a drug addict. With bloodshot eyes and flitting movement, you could tell when he was using and when he wasn't. Razine was a paranoid schizo, always muttering about the government implanting some sort of chip in people's brains. Plus, she and Reyes both had a thing for fire. The scar marring his pretty face was from the fire that put him here. While no one was really sure what Benson was here for, the scars on his wrists were a pretty big clue. I was a serial cutter like Benson and Reid... Well, Reid was a mystery. No one actually knew why he was here.

Enough about my group-mates, let's talk about the TTH group. It was a center, a home. More specifically, our home. Think mental asylum meets prison, really. Everyone here had their reasons and supposedly, this was going to help. We had our own rooms and bathrooms. We had three meals a day, some had medications as well. There was a garden, rec room, and courtyard. Oh, don't forget the isolation rooms. Meant for those with behavioral issues.

What was it I mentioned earlier? Right, love and emotions. My opinion had always remained the same when it came to such concepts. I'd never really believed in love, per-say. My parents had suffered through an ugly marriage, and I was shipped here after that came to an end. Really, it was their fault I was here in the first place. Them and a sharp knife.

Currently, I was seated in a cornflower blue chair that hurt my back. I didn't care. I was seated at the window, my window. Not the one above the courtyard but the one overlooking the garden. As it was Spring, everything was in bloom. Large bushes were trimmed into perfect squares and rectangles, cherry trees and magnolia trees had sweet smelling flowers lining the branches. Rows of roses and walls covered in colorful ivy. It truly was beautiful. I sat there, staring into space until a sharp poke in my shoulder jarred me from my thoughtless content.

"Lapis, come back to Earth. Razor needs us."

That was all Hero said before he turned on his heel and headed towards the exit for the courtyard. I suppose I should have followed him but I couldn't. No, not that. I didn't care enough. I sat there. I heard the angry screams. I just sat there. I heard the shouts for security and the voice of a disgruntled Hero. I should have gone with him. I didn't want to. I listened slightly as they dragged a sedated Razine back into her room. I sat there, pulled my long legs onto the chair to my chest. No more screams. Hero didn't come back.

I don't notice how much time passes until I hear it. A scribbling noise, like a pencil on paper. Resting my cheek on my knee, I turn my head to see Reid scratching away in his drawing pad. He glances up, only to catch my eye and blush. He snaps the book shut and disappears towards the boys' hall before I could even blink. Curious. I hear another noise. A puff of air. Refocusing on a maroon chair besides the once Reid-occupied couch. Benson sat, staring.

"What?"

He blinked, moved his hands around in a strange motion. Sign Language, I realized. No wonder he never spoke. Interesting. He signed to me again.

"Don't say such things. Reid wasn't drawing me."

Benson signs some more, saying how he saw the drawing pad when he was sitting down. I think he was a liar and told him as such. He rolled eyes the light blue of the sky, told me I was dumb, and left me to my thoughts. I hate thinking.