Ten | newtmas

forty three

Frypan leaves today. He's going after lunch, and all day yesterday the Normals were talking to him and crowding around him, not leaving his side for a moment. Leaving this place is no small feat, apparently.

Recovery itself is a long, tiring, vigorous road. Sometimes it feels like all you do is turn onto dead ends or get stuck in roundabouts. But I'm inching my way there. Slowly but surely, I'm on my way—and Fry has already crossed the finish line.

Thomas helps me out of my chair to sit down for breakfast, and Fry is already at the table. I guess they're giving him the day off from helping in the kitchen.

He's grinning, talking to Minho as he eats his food. It's amazing to think about where he started, and how far he's come. This place may have more than its fair share of issues, but at least they helped him.

Aris looks happy today. He's starting to look a bit healthier than when I first met him—a bit pinker in the cheeks, fuller features. Maybe Fry has inspired him? He's definitely been inspiring me.

My progress, according to Thomas, has been impressive. My panic in response to the ERP hasn't been lasting so long, for one thing. But the talking part of it is still difficult. When it's about my parents, I can manage. Other than that... some things are harder for me to accept or even think about for too long without feeling my compulsions take over.

Someone who's progress I'm entirely unsure of is Gally's. He isn't here again today. Is it violence, or something worse?

Fry raises his cup of milk up, snapping me out of my thoughts. "It's hard to believe this is my last breakfast here with you shuckers," Fry starts, making everyone—including me—laugh. "I just want to say thank you for making every day here easier, and for supporting me through recovery. So"—he raises his cup further—"here's to you guys."

Zart raises his cup. "Here's to you, Fry." I'm not the only one surprised by Zart's contribution. Everyone looks at each other. "What?"

Minho shrugs. "Nothing, man," he says, before lifting his drink. "To Fry."

We all follow, clunking the plastic cups into each other's. A nurse eyes us, but thankfully he doesn't interrupt. I say that, because the last time we had pasta, Minho put some in his teeth and pretended to be a walrus, resulting in a nurse telling us that playing with food is "dangerous behavior" and bad for his recovery.

Thomas looks at me with a smile. "This'll be you soon," he says.

"Yeah," I say. The thought is frightening. "Maybe it will be."

We were informed yesterday that today's group therapy is a discussion on our goals, due to Fry leaving. Ava Paige starts the conversation, gazing proudly at Frypan as she clasps her hands in her lap.

"Today is Sigmund's last day here at Ted Immenty. The staff here are all very proud of him for his recovery, and wish him nothing but luck in the future. Do you have anything you'd like to share with the others today?" Ava asks. I'm glad she's so happy to see Fry go. She must love the patients here that she doesn't drug.

"Yeah, actually. Thank you," Fry says, nodding at Dr. Paige. "I want to say that being here and accepting help is scary. You all know that already. But when you start looking out for yourself, everything gets better. I'm really grateful to TIMI for helping me realize all of this."

It's funny to look out at everyone's faces after he speaks. Half of them look happy for him or motivated. The other half are almost annoyed. Like Thomas, they probably don't believe they're getting out of here anytime soon—if ever.