His Name Is Trevor

"Listen, I know you're trying to help, but you're making it worse. I don't need your help." I say, looking right in her eyes.

"Trevor, do you like me?" She asks, ignoring what I just said.

"What?" I ask, my eyebrows raising. Her question caught me off guard.

"Do you like me as a person?"

"Well, um. I guess," I answer, shrugging my shoulders.

"Then, I'm staying. Be honest, you aren't going to let anyone else help you. You hate people. You're going to have to talk to someone, though. So, you can either deal with me or someone else who doesn't understand." She says. She crosses her arms and pops out a hip.

"I don't need help," I mutter, turning around and staring out the window.

"I don't really think that's your choice," she says before turning around and walking out the door.

..............

The Augusta Pierce Program. That's what it's officially known as, but everyone calls it the home for messed up kids. Is it a mental hospital? It's as close to one as you can get without actually being one.

Maybe Hope Beckum was recruited to help these kids just because of her name. Maybe it's because her dad is the best psychiatrist around. Or maybe it's because she just needed another credit to be the philanthropist she's always dreamed of being.

Diving headfirst into the perplexing life of Trevor Manning is a little more than what she wanted, though.

..........

#gethelp