chapter twenty three: piercing

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d e r e k

"It's just so pointless," Kane groans, folding his clothes neatly. "Like, it doesn't help in the least bit. I don't see how talking about how I need everything perfect is going to help with anything! Besides, I could just- Derek, for the love of God, please stop scratching your arm."

I look up in surprise, caught off guard by his words. "Huh?"

Kane reaches over and pries my right hand off my arm. I roll my eyes slightly and fall back against the sheets, grabbing a pillow to stuff over my mouth as I muffle out a groan. "I'm so tired." 

"Story of my life," Sydney mumbles, kicking the wall.

"Can we get back to how much I want to boil Dr. Harris alive? Please?"

Kane, just after a couple of session, has developed a hatred for therapy. It's not strange or uncommon at all- almost everyone at this clinic hates therapy, from what I know. Sydney isn't fond, Kane looks ready to cry just from the thought of it, Sam think it's a mockery. And me? Just the thought of the corridor leading into Dr. Harris' office makes me want to jump out the window.

"What'd he do this time?" Sydney asks, now leaning against the wall she had been kicking.

Kane throws his arms up in the air. "I just... It's not that he did anything. It just annoys me that he thinks I'm going to go in there and talk to him about my most deep and private secrets. I don't know him. How am I supposed to trust him?"

I shrug ever so slightly. "Well, I mean, it is a safe room. And therapy's helped people before." I glance up to see two accusing looks pointed at my direction. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes," Kane says quickly.

Sydney hesitates with her response. "You've got a point, Derek. But it's still a hassle; physically and emotionally."

"That's an understatement," Kane grumbles, placing his now folded clothes neatly into his drawer.

I shrug. I don't feel like voicing my opinion. As much as I hate therapy, if it means I might get happy again, then I'll do it. I don't say that out loud, though, because Sydney and Kane just wouldn't understand. 

Then again, they might. I know by Kane breaking down in frustrated tears every now and then that he hates his mental disorder just as much as I do. And Sydney may be happy, but when she turns delusional, it not only scares us, but herself too. It doesn't happy often, but it still has happened quite a number of times already- the workers say they should start calming down once she gets more used to the new environment- and Sydney always pulls herself away from us for several days afterwards.

I hear Kane shoot back into his therapy rant and sit up, interrupting with, "Stop complaining. I have to go to group therapy in, like, two minutes, which is something I'm not looking forward to. So, suck it up. Because I'd much rather be telling my problems to Dr. Harris rather than people I don't even know."

Kane stops talking instantly, the words dying as a small noise from the back of his throat. Sydney glances at me. "That sucks, Derek."

"That's an understatement," I mimic Kane. I don't have to look at him to guess he's glaring at me.

Sydney moves away from the wall and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You'll get through it," she promises. "It'll be okay."

"You say that a lot," I note, pushing her arm off of me.

"Because it's true," she says.

"How do you know?" Kane speaks up, surprising me with one of his first times doubting something Sydney says. You just don't doubt what Sydney says; besides her episodes, she's the most mentally stable out of our entire group; more like the entire clinic, in fact. She wormed her way into our little group quickly, and right away, people fell behind her, listening to her every word and watching her every action with awe. When Sydney loses it, it may be scarier than anyone else's episodes, but the fact that she always jumps back to happiness leaves everyone with jaws on the floor.

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