Elusion // l.h

Chapter 27- Rehabilitation

"So you're turning 18 in a about a week." A tall brunette, who's name was Melissa with circle glasses said as I sat adjacent to her on the typical brown couch. I was doing what I never ever thought I would; I was at my first day in therapy.

When my mother went off on me for skipping school, I didn't know how else to react. It obviously had not been the first time, but I didn't like the constant bickering over things that didn't matter. Honestly, I thought she should've considered therapy as well. She had been through the same as me, and it was idiotic to think that she could ignore it. She was in a strange state of denial. Like as if the life we lived before, didn't even happen. Maybe she was doing it for my sake, but that wasn't life either. She was able to worry about our covers being blown, and getting taken away by the police, but she didn't think about him. She worried about little things but seemed to just put away everything else. As much as I admired her for it, It worried me to a certain point. I knew people well enough to know that she would recognize it at some point and explode.

After telling her that therapy was a good idea, she immediately called Liz. Before I could even blink, I had an appointment set up downtown. The suggestion to my mother was another word vomit thing, but I didn't know what else to do. Every time I felt better, I thought that self healing worked and that I didn't need the pathetic hours talking to a stranger just so they can make money off putting me on pills or making me cry. I cried enough on my own, and I hated any form of medicine. Although I was a fan of using it to help others, the most you'd ever get down my throat was an Advil if I had killer cramps. Besides that, I knew that the only person that could maybe tell me what was happening in my head, was a professional. They spent years studying it and as much as I saw myself mentally competent, I couldn't stop what was happening to me. It wasn't healthy.

After we had the whole thing set up, my mother felt bad for going off on me and listened to my side of the story. I felt bad for kicking Luke out that day and I did text him after. As weird as it might have seemed, he had a completely different aura to him that day and I hoped that he would stay that way. I didn't need a therapist to know what his problem was, and it was almost humbling to know that he was able to be normal with me. Him admitting to us being friends was something I didn't see coming the day I met him, and I wouldn't want to judge the road that were to come.

I texted him to see if maybe his mom told him about therapy which I hope she didn't. I didn't think she did, but I did want to test the waters. He obviously didn't think much of it, since he knew family quarrels quite well himself. But apart from all of the drama and hustle, there I was, sat on a couch about to talk.

"Yeah." I answered, monotony clear in my voice. It was a weird question to start with.

"Are you excited?" She asked.

"I don't really care. It's just another birthday." I didn't realize how morbid I sounded until a few seconds later.

"But it's your 18th. You'll be an adult."

"Legally. It won't feel any different than being 17." I snared. Annoyance was becoming clear since I wasn't comfortable even though I chose to be there.

"So Peyton, tell me why you decided to come here." Melissa asked wasting no time already writing something in her yellow stained papers. Why was she writing already?

I cleared my throat.

"Because, I feel like I'm a prisoner in my own mind." I answered. My answer was weird. It sounded weird.

"Define prisoner."

"Well, I feel like I need to know more than I do. I can think about that yellow pad in your hands and go on about it for an hour. The chain of thoughts and theories doesn't end." It felt nice to get it off my chest and maybe this was the right thing to do.