I felt worse than I had in a long time. I felt like I was back in Ohio when I was alone. I spent all day in bed because I didn’t want to face the world. I focused all of my attention on homework to attempt to ignore the problems I had in my real world. I was based with a lot more problems than anyone knew. My mother was a Jesus freak who would probably die at the fact that her daughter liked girls. My dad was always at work dealing with so many other people’s problems that he didn’t even notice mine. Glen was always too focused on the girls or the cheerleaders. The only one who ever even cared about me was Clay, but I never let him in.

I remember my first day of therapy.

I had been sitting on the same couch, in the same position for almost half an hour. I didn’t say anything. Neither did she. We just sat in silence for a long time. She studied my every breath. I found it agitating at the least. I felt like a lab rat, being studied and soon to become another statistic. I hated it. Finally though, Doctor Smyrna decided to speak. “Spencer, it is important that we get to know each other really well considering it is our first meeting. Let’s start with your history.” She suggested all too bubbly.

“Let’s start with how I don’t belong here, Dr. Smyrna” I said bitterly.

“Please,” She said after jotting something down on her college rule notebook paper. I bet she was drawing pictures. “Call me Alicia. It is important that we feel comfortable with each other. I believe being on a first name basis helps.” She smiled.

“Tell me, Dr. Smyrna,” I made it very clear that I was not going to remain on a first name basis. I didn’t want to open up to this woman. She was a stranger for god sakes. “Do you always share your secrets with your patients? Or is it so that your patients think you are sharing your secrets so that they share theirs?” I was pacing at that point, but I stopped and leaned over her desk. “But let’s get something clear. I’m not like your other patients. They have probably been depressed for a few weeks. I’ve been like this for three years! You can’t fix me!” I pulled up my sleeves and shoved my scars in her face. “YOU CAN’T FIX THESE!!” I was crying and opening up more than I expected. Dr. Smyrna touched my cuts with her soft hands before escaping from behind her desk. She wrapped me in a hug and let me sob on her shoulder.