Therapy

1

"So what brings you here today Miss..." Their eyes flicker down to the paper resting on their lap. "Braxton?"

"Well...my parents think I'm depressed." I say fiddling with the hem of my leather skater skirt.

"Do you personally feel you are depressed?" They ask me, I look over to their face with confusion.

"I'm actually not quite sure." I unfold my legs from their position on the comfy couch. "I cut, I like to see the blood trickle down my arm. I do drugs, cocaine, marijauna, weed. Anything I can get my hands on. I've snuck out with friends. I've drank. But that's what teenagers do. Right?"

They look down and write something down on their little note pad or whatever and then look back up at me.

"Miss. Braxton. Can you tell me how you started cutting?"

"Well at first I did it because girls were being bitches, but isn't that all the time with them?"

"Sure." They suggest.

"Then it was like I was jumping in a pool. I dipped my foot in to see if it felt nice, and when it did, I dived in. Now I'm afraid I'm getting caught up in all of the bullshit around me and I'm going to drown." I try to explain although it probably made no sense.

"I understand Miss. Braxton. Our time is almost up but I want you to write down everything you do for the next week until our next session. All the bad things, even cutting. You understand?" They tell me as they stand up.

"Yes." I nod, "Well it was nice meeting you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Braxton." They shake my hand and lead me to the door. "Don't forget, next Wednesday at 4:45. And bring the things you have done in a journal with you."

"Okay, peace out." I say throwing up a peace sign.

"Goodbye Miss. Braxton." They close the door as I walk out.

The Oregon weather was already getting worse as night crept up. I love winter, but it was always so damn cold I couldn't wear most of my closet.

I unlocked my car and rushed inside before the wind make my shaved legs prickly again. After bumping up the heater to 80 and turning on the seat warmers I finally get going.

The radio was blaring some 'My Chemical Romance' so I didn't have to spend most of time finding some radio station that was half way decent.

When I arrive home my moms car is parked in the driveway. I park my car right behind it and rush up the stone path to the wooden stairs and into the place I call my sanctuary. Anyplace with free food and my laptop had to be a good place.

"Mom! I'm home!" I yell taking off my muddy Dr. Martins and taking off all my layers of unnecessary clothing.

I walk into the kitchen where my mom sits at the table by the window. "So? How did it go?"

I sit down and grab the tea she had made for me. "It was fine. I liked my therapist."

"I knew you would. After searching and searching for one, there finally was one that popped out to me." She says sipping at her steaming cup.

"Why did they pop out at you?" I question.

"I don't know. They were just different. Like you." She says pushing back a strand of dark hair back from her face.

"Where is dad?" I wonder out loud.

"Upstairs taking a shower and filling up the house with Blink 182 music." My mom says rolling her eyes.

Come to think of it I did hear Mark Hoppus and Tom Delonge playing in the background. I finish my tea and have small talk with my mom before rushing upstairs. I fall on my bed and lay there groaning and moaning about how school sucks.

No, when you move to a new school you don't get a magical new best friend and a hot boyfriend. You get haters and people who think they are better than you because they have been there longer.

I've only made one friend but he is a stoner and barley talks.

I still hang out with my old friends, the ones who own all the pot and booze. My mom is sick of them but they make me feel alive and free. I just can't stand this new school though. I feel like I am dying a little bit more each day as I sit in those fucking classrooms.

My senior year. Yippee. People think I'm goth, but in reality I only dress based on how I feel inside. I mean at my old school everyone dressed like this because everyone felt the same kind of pain.

I undress myself and take off my makeup before cozying up in my bed with my laptop. Dinner was overrated but my stomach said otherwise.

"Shut up stomach. We will have pizza rolls at 12 again, who needs to be healthy." I say looking down at my brainless stomach. Maybe this is why I don't have friends.

After 5 hours of scrolling on several social media sites I finally decide to go down to get food.

Before I can leave my room though there is a loud thump at my window.

I rush over and pull away the curtains to look outside.

Skye, Oscar and India were all down below my window. There was another person with them but it was to dark to tell.

"Elowen? Get your ass down here we are going to a party!" Oscar whisper yells.

"Let me get dressed." I whisper yell back down to them.

I slip on a pair of high waisted jeans and a band shirt before climbing out my window and down to them.

These were my friends and I didn't want my mom or anyone to get in the way of that.

"Who are you?" I ask to a shaggy haired guy.

"Elow. This is Titus. Titus this is Elowen but we call her Elow." India says gesturing back to him then to me.

"Elowen Braxton." I say staring at him in awe, just now realizing what he looked like.

His chiseled jaw and lip piercing were enough for any girl to faint. A side from his brown curls that sat on top of his head, everything about him screamed 'Don't fuck with me.' He was wearing a red plaid flannel and black skinny jeans, which made him even more alluring.

"Titus Bradshaw." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "Can we leave?" He asks impatiently.

"Sure." Oscars replies, and then we were off.