Change Me(title so far)
This is the rough draft of a story I’m writing. I have no clue how it will turn out, I may change some names and details, but so far I like it. This is just something I’m doing in leisure time.
Here I sit, absent-mindedly staring around on the verge of throwing up I was so scared. Scared of what has happened, scared of what I had done, but most of all, scared of the police calling my parents. You see, I’m in the back of the police station, sitting in hand cuffs. Evidently the first time is the last time, that’s what they say, of course I’m in no condition to argue.
“Jeane! What on earth have you done now? What on earth!” My mom cries with edging tears.
I hold my head down, I know I’ve done wrong and nothing I do or say now is going to change the way she feels. My dad stands there staring, mouth set in a hard line not saying anything at all. Its frightens me the most.
You may not know this, but I used to be such a good girl. Straight A’s and B’s, most honors classes in high school, community help clubs and an all around star. But somewhere, somewhere I can actually pin point, things started to take a turn for the worst. At school I met some friends, I’d like to call them that at least. Those friends, the ones who left me behind to sit here and take the blame. I was sheltered, knew nothing of what else was out there besides my stupid grades and curfew. They brought me to parties, introduced me to alcohol and a few drugs. We started stealing, pick pocketing, breaking into stores, houses, taking what we needed and having all that we wanted. Somewhere along the line I got greedy. Somewhere along the line, I got caught.
Finally, after hours of tears and documents to sign, I come home. The cuffs are off and I’m a free man-woman. The documents, you ask? The ones that state my community service hours, my restricted curfew, and worst of all, my therapy. Yes, therapy, where all the loonies go, the psyched out kids stung out on heroin…and me. I argued my side, tried to convince them I wasn’t crazy but evidently a child such as I to undergo such a dramatic change within a short span of time is in fact, crazy. So tomorrow off I go, to lie on my back and talk about my problems, my oh so horrible life and everything that plain out makes me mad. Right.
My dad still hasn’t said a word, right about now I’ve got the feeling he’s not going to talk to me for a sometime again. I guess I’ll deal, he is stern, but her cares. It hurts but I’m not sure whats worse, my moms tears or his angry stares.
I let my head hit the pillow as I stared up into the darkness. The little wrinkles on the ceiling changing shades of gray as the fans shadow hits them. I let out a sigh because… Well, because I know whats instore for me, and I know I’ve done wrong. I’ve been sneaking around, my parents had no clue besides the little problems lately, this incident knocked ‘em for a loop and I don’t even know what to say. I feel guilty, not for stealing, but for the pain I’ve caused for the ones I care about. It sucks, it really does. The worst part is, I still have the urge, my affinity for darkness and trouble. I’m torn in two because I still want it, but I don’t want the pain. Hmm… I turn over on my stomach and grab my pillow, holding on to it for dear life. As I stare out into the wall, the darkness assumes control and I drift into a dreamless sleep.
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The gray building cast a long shadow over me as I looked up. The elegant and soothing sign, right, (BLANKKKKK) Psychology, PhD. with the generous slogan, Bring your problems to Us!. I roll my eyes as my mom pushes me along. So, we walk into the well-lit lobby and turn to the nearest elevator. I try to hide my face as much as a I can and walk quickly in fear of seeing someone I know. We’re in. I look up at the long list of buttons, with the urge to press them all, but now is not the time.
“Seven,” It’s all my mom says.
Seven it is, I press it and up we go. As soon as the doors open I hear a chirpy little voice from some prissy office secretary sitting behind her huge desk. I can’t help but wonder why the smile on her face is so huge. Likewise my mom smiles back and goes up to the counter and immediately begins a conversation. I look around. Standard furniture, a few tables with magazines splayed out neatly upon them, green leafy flowers in huge pots in each corner, little lamps protruding from the walls, paisley wall paper with gold and beige through out it. The whole room is beige, I guess its supposed to be calming, I look back at the wall behind the secretary, its glass. Ironically I find that more soothing.
“Jean.. Jean, come here hun,” She turns around as if I didn’t hear her the first time.
I walk over to the large desk. “Yes?” And the prissy blonde named, I scanned for her tag, ahh, Jessica. She smiled again, so fake, and asked me about my name, birth, blah blah blah.
She handed my mom a clipboard with a few sheets of paper on it and a sparkly pen. My mom left to sit down and I stood there with my elbows propped up over the desk looking at her.
“Ok, Jeane,” Fake. “Your going to be seeing Dr.Liam Sebastian. He is our best and specializes in youth psychology. Is that Ok with you hun?” As if I had a choice.
“Yes, it’s fine,” I sigh.
“Ok, well you can go in for your first session while your mom over there is filling out the proper paper work, he’s waiting for you, Ok hun?” What’s with the ‘hun’s’?
“Ok,” I mumble and start walking to one of the two doors in the office, this one to my nearest left. Jessica grunts and when I turn around she smiles again and points to the other door. Right. I walk to the other door and contemplate shortly about knocking but decide not to. I open the door slightly and then proceed in.
The first think I notice is the slight smell of cigarettes and some expensive cologne, oddly it was kind of appealing. His office was alot different than the lobby, the walls were dark green with a light gold paisley design around the top half and a solid color of the same green on the bottom. The carpet was beige as the one before and the furniture looked expensive, made of dark chocolate wood and some fancy burgundy and gold upholstering. The bookshelf behind him was made of the same wood, crammed with books and binders. A small green leafy plant in the corner and the wall to the left, just as in the lobby was glass. He sat straight up in his chair, hands clasped in front of him on the desk with a slight smile on his face. He stood hand out ready for a shake. I stepped closer and took hold of him.
“Ahh, you must be Jean Benua if I’m correct,” He smiled and I nodded. “I’m Dr. Sebastian, but you can call me Liam if you prefer, please,” He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat,”. I did as he asked and perched on the end of the seat.
“So,” He began, sitting down and leaning back in his chair.