HeartBreaker | Book 1

An Unexpected Visit

Chapter Three

An Unexpected Visit

It's dark inside and outside my apartment.

The doorbell rings for the second time, I don't know why I'm so scared.

I mean, sure, I've never had someone enter my apartment, not even Aiden the landlord and nobody in this city knows who I am, let alone where I live.

The doorbell rings for the third time. This is ridiculous, if the person on the other side of the door meant any harm, they would've done something by now.

I get up and switch on the lights, then unlock the front door.

I swing it open and I'm greeted with a brown-haired middle-aged woman. She was in a pantsuit holding a briefcase in her hands.

What could she possibly want? Directions? Is she the building inspector?

"Mr. Madison, good evening, may I come in?" she asks in a cool tone.

I'm taken back by the fact that she knows where I live or who I am, especially because I legally changed my name over two years ago.

I stare at her in complete and utter shock and slight fear. If she was able to track me down, she must be an important person.

"Yes... come in" I attempted to request, though it sounded more like a question.

She briskly walks in and observes her surroundings. She looks extremely out of place.

Every strand of her hair neat and perfectly in place, her ironed suit standing strong in my small, shabby apartment.

She looked like a babe in the woods.

I take a seat opposite to her on a stool in front of the bench top which she places her briefcase on.

"I'm Janine Butler, a social worker, I specialise in youth in areas of Melbourne."

Oh boy, this can't be good.

"The alarming prominence of depression in the youth of Melbourne has come to the council's attention."

Yikes... I could already see where this is going. She is a one-man intervention who is going to convince me to join a church or a program of some sort to improve my life, in other words, complete and utter bullshit.

"Recently the government have introduced programs and schemes to combat the struggles that youth in Melbourne face today."

I knew it.

"There's the buddy program, which aims to act as a safe haven, where youth can come and have their voices heard and make friends.

"Chris I think it is highly important for you to have something like this in your life." She finishes looking concerned yet dignified.

"As fun as it would be to go to a support group full of depressed teenagers with hormonal imbalances, I'm going to have to skip out on this one," I reply swiftly.

This wasn't my first interaction with a social worker; don't get me wrong, they're good people, but they often want to help those who don't need it and sometimes their help can only go so far. 

"You thought you had a choice? No Chris, especially someone of your... background, it's the government's responsibility to ensure that you don't end up in the gutter,"

"I can do that on my own," I say. What does she know about my "background?"

"Well you don't seem to be doing a spectacular job."

Ouch. Well she put me in my place. I admire her bluntness but I pity her passion.

Caring so much about people who don't care enough or have shitty lives can't be a good thing.

"I understand that I can't make you be a part of an opportunity that has the chance to positively impact your future,"

Jeez, is this woman a sales rep or a social worker?

"But just understand that it's for your own good. We're only here to help, we always want the best for you."

She hands me a colourful booklet of the program, "Goodnight Chris, take care."

She leaves my apartment and closes the door making it feel emptier than ever.

I just met the woman, but she no doubt spent a few weeks reading my case files. Bloody social workers.

What's better than a stranger telling you how to improve your life?

I can't lie, it feels good to have someone care for my wellbeing, but it's also worrying; as soon as someone starts to care, somebody gets hurt, and for the first time, I don't think it'll be me.