The World Wants Us

-1

"What's wrong?"

He hated that question. He despised it with everything in him. How could two words make him feel so angry? Why was he angry? Was it because of his Mom, who wouldn't listen to him? His step dad, who could get hit by a car and he still wouldn't care? Or was it simply himself?

He's been going through this for so many years. A decade. It's been ten years and still, nothing has changed besides the scenery around him. Whenever he thought back to when he was younger, the scenes would just change color and he'd shrink smaller, and when he thought about all the things that had lead up to now, his face went from happy to desperate. He usually felt pity towards himself, but now he didn't feel a thing. It seems like his life had always been like this and would never change.

The black-haired boy pulled at his fingers and stared menacingly at the carpet underneath his beaten down converse. He doesn't even need this. He doesn't even need to be here. His mom is overreacting. She knows what she has to do and still refuses. She lied to him. At one point, he even thought he hated her. He still does, but he also loves her, and it's so fucking confusing and it makes his head hurt. He wants to cry. He wants to punch someone.

"I'm ready to go." He finally replied, earning a frown from the therapist.

Once he left the room and entered the waiting room, he felt like that invisible anvil of pressure had been lifted off his shoulders. He could see them sitting in the chairs, watching the news that flashed across the suspended Tv - the two people he had arrived here with. It smelled like disinfectant and cooked - yet, tasteless - food. There were too many people all talking at once. Too many people moving around. Too many crying babies. Too much.

He walked right past his mother and stopped in front of the one person he felt comfortable around. The one person that understood him even though he hadn't been through what he himself has been through. He could share his secrets with him and knew that they would never flow out of his mouth unless he told him it was okay. He could be standing outside of his front door and the boy would let him in without a second thought and no questions asked.

"You done?" He looked over at him, jiggling his thigh and cracking his knucles.

"Yeah."

The friend stood up and ran his hand through his own brown hair that stopped just before the bottom of his chin and then held out his hand, wondering if he would like to hold it. He linked his fingers through his and then they walked towards the exit.

"Did you tell the guy what you did?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. What did he say?"

The boy hesitated, staring blankly in front of him. The security moved aside and held the door open for them both. The humidity in the air made his nose feel stuffy and he could smell the dumpster from across the parking lot. They passed a woman with a crying baby in her arms and he looked after her just because.

"He said if I pull anything else like that I'll be institutionalized."

He turned back around and looked at his friend, curious to see if his face showed some shock at the news. It didn't and he didn't know if he liked that or not. The boy squeezed his hand gently though and then he decided that it was okay. His friend never judged him for anything and he liked that a lot. Ever since they met they've been sharing a piece of themselves to each other. It was like they were slowly trying to build the other person up and the pieces were made from their voices and actions.

"Guess you can't do that anymore, huh?"

"Hm."

"Why did you do it?"