1A/N: Hey, sorry I haven't updated anything in a while, I've had a major writer's block and when that happens the most random story's pour out of me.
This one is quite personal, all I've written so far is clichés and I don't want to just write about a storybook love tale. I'm young and I'm shaping my own personality and I just want to say, that if you have any problems with me, I am sorry. I haven't been making the best choices lately and this story does have some of my most inner problems. Other than that, enjoy!
Brekkie
Chapter One
Aimee
"What about you Aimee? Do you have anything to share today?" The 60's glasses wearing lady looked at me and I gave her a blank stare before adjusting my long sleeved shirt, "Come on Aimee, you never talk to me. What did you do today?" She tried to look like she was having fun trying to pry information out of me but I could see through her make-up caked face.
What did I do today? Lets see...I had breakfast...met my tutor...oh yeah, I cut myself. I thought snidely, I do the same thing everyday lady.
I was in this retarded rehab facility because I got caught slicing my wrists in my last high school's restroom. I was an everyday cutter. I wasn't majorly depressed though. It was only five minutes away from my old town so the state sent me here. I was living on my own since my mother has tried to commit suicide with pills and basically damned me to hell when I tried to get her help.
"Aimee, you have got to be more social, you've been here a month and you haven't talked to anyone here." She pushed her glasses further up her nose and sighed.
"Probably, because, everyone here is 20 and older and most of them are alcoholics that act like fucking crazy bats all of the time." I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms and ignored the pain I got from pressing on the new cut.
"Watch your language." She said in a warning tone, "Have you been cutting recently?" She asked and I knew after I answered what she would say. 'Why did you cut,' or, 'And how did you feel?' or 'What made you resort to cutting?'
I didn't respond and she kept on asking questions that I didn't answer. I toned her out after five minutes and just stared into space until I heard her chair scrape against the ground.
"Ms. Longwinn, you are able to leave now, I'm going to talk to the head counselor and see if I can do something about your 'situation'." As soon as she said, 'able to leave', I bolted out of there as if it was on fire. With me leaving, I didn't hear the rest of what she said.
(3rd person)
"Mr. Klam, this girl is having a downward spiral from when she first entered this facility! When she came here, she only cut twice a week, now she is cutting at least once a day, sometimes twice! Soon it will be three, then four, then she will try suicide, and if she fails she will try again and again until she has finally succeeded! And people will wonder why this girl was so hell-bent on leaving this place, and then the papers will catch wind of it, then the news, then the state. Then you will be sued for not helping her when we told them we would help her." The elderly woman collapsed in a seat in front of her boss and adjusted her too-big glasses till they were high on her nose.
"Ms. Silverman, what do you suggest we do? We can't do anymore without taking out another city loan and then they will want the previous loans paid off. What here makes her so depressed?" He leaned forward on his desk and took off his glasses.
"She's surrounded by drunks and druggies but they all are too old for her to make friends with. She needs to be around people her own age, with her own problems. She's alone here. There's a facility in Florida that was named one of the best facilities for teens with addictions. I believe if we send her there, she will receive the help she needs along with making friends." She let out a breath, feeling exhausted.
"Are you suggesting that we send her to Greenfield?!" The man asked with as much disgust he could muster. Greenfield had almost put them in bankruptcy. They stole most of their teen patients and were far more successful than them.
"It's either have another kid die while being here and more things go wrong for us, or just send her off to them and give her another chance and a better life. So what is it, crash and burn or save a life?" She gave him a small smile, "It's an easy choice when I put it like that isn't it?"
"Ms. Silverman, do you think she'll agree? She's not the most social butterfly, do you think that she would want to go to a place that practically forces her to be social?" The last thing Mr. Klam wanted to do was to let the media know that another teen had to leave here to go to Greenfield.
"She said today that she only doesn't talk to people because, and these are her words, 'are 20 and over and most are alcoholics that act like fucking crazy bats all of the time'," the woman pushed. She didn't like to curse but those were the girl's words. "Would it really be so bad to just send her there?"
"No," the man sighed and ran his hand through his greying hair. "Fine, go tell Aimee Longwinn that she will be transferred to Greenfield Teen Rehab Facility."