Conversations With Ana

3

3

"Are you sure you'll be okay...?"

I glared at my mom.

She had asked me this same exact question the entire drive over.

"No. I'm not going to be okay. The moment you leave I'm going to dissolve into a puddle of my own tears and hang myself with the bed sheets."

My mom's eyes widened and my dad gave me a look through the rearview mirror.

I looked away and out the window.

"This place is in the middle of no where."

"I know it's far away from home, Ana, but we're all going to come visit. Me, your dad, Mel, some of your other friends."

"I don't have other friends."

My mom hesitated but my dad spoke for her instead.

"Sure you do. You know, Cara and Lida and Marco. They'll come visit."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I haven't spoken to any of them in over a year, dad."

"That doesn't make them any less of a friend, Ana."

"Whatever you say."

I put in my earbuds so I didn't have to deal with them anymore.

Finally we pulled into the drive of the group home.

Yes.

That's right.

They had sent me to some mental asylum that they called a group home.

But I knew the truth.

It was obviously some sort of psych ward.

I climbed out of the car only to be greeted by a cheery blonde.

I narrowed my eyes at her and crossed my arms over my chest.

I felt jumpy and on edge.

And drugged.

I had been forced to take my meds.

It was one of the "conditions" if I wanted to live in the group home.

Which, I did not.

"Hi! Welcome! You must be Ana!"

"You must be a runaway cheerleader."

She looked taken aback by my sarcasm but then regained her composure and smiled at me.

"Well, anyways, my name is Alison and I work here."

"That's nice to know that you work here. I thought you just hung out here for fun."

My mom gave me a scolding look and said: "Ana, be nice."

"I am being nice. This is my nice."

Alison laughed nervously.

"It's okay, ma'am. I'm used to this. A lot of the patients can a bit rude or abrasive when they first get here."

My eyebrows shot up.

"Did you just say abrasive?"

Before I could carry on with my mental abuse, a man joined us.

He looked to be in his late thirties and he also looked annoyed.

As soon as he saw my parents and I though, he smiled.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you, Ana."

"I wish I could say the same but then I'd be lying."

His smile didn't waver one bit.