Troian Bellisario Adopted Me

Chapter 30

        "Adrienne? Please. Talk to me. Did you break your clean or not?" Mom begs. I remain silent. Suddenly, she grabs my wrist and pulls my sleeve up. Thank god I put on concealer and foundation this morning. She grabs a damp towel and wipes my arms. I struggle to get out of her grasp.

        "No! Leave me alone! Get away!" I screech.

        "Adrienne. You should have come to Ashley or Shay." Mom tells me.

        "Why? So they can label me as an emo freak too! Not happening!" I run out to my bedroom.

        "Adrienne, baby girl. Um, I need to speak to you." Mom enters my bedroom.

        "What?" I snap. She bites her lip.

        "I'm sending you to treatment. You leave in two days. You're going to the same facility that Demi did. Timberline Knolls." She says.

        "No! You can't! I won't go! I hate you! I wish I never met you! I'm not crazy! I don't need help! I'm fine like this!" I shout. Uncontrolable sobs erupt from my body.

        The two days go by fast. Mom straps me into the backseat with the childlock on.  I kick the seats and bang the windows with my fists. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. We arrive within four hours. I try to run, but Mom and Keegan catch me. I hit Keegan's chest as he picks me up silently. I can't go. No, I won't try. They can't fix me. They can't.

        "I'll never forgive you, Troian." I spat her name like venom. I trusted her. 

        "You might not. But if I don't do this then I won't forgive myself. I love you, baby girl" She says softly.

        "Don't call me that!" I shout. She leaves the building. The employees go through my bag and take my blades, scale, phone, and they put a blocker on my iPod so that I can't go on any social media or contact anyone, only listen to music. They take me to a room and make me change into a hospital gown and step onto a scale, but they make me face the opposite way so I can't see the number. I am allowed to change back into my clothes and go to my 'quarters', I already hate this place.

        I sit on the small bed. Everything is bolted down. I don't even have a pencil sharpener. I was going to use one for it's blades. I put the picture of Mom on the nightstand and drift off into a deep sleep.

        "Wake up! It's time for therapy, but you have to eat breakfast first."An all too perky voice wake sme up. Food. Ugh. A plate with eggs and turkey bacon with a glass of milk is set in front of me. I simply sit there staring at it. If she thinks I'm going to eat, then she's a dumbass. Thirty minutes later they start forcing me to eat it. How? A feeding tube.

        That thing hurts like a bitch! They take it out and escort me to therapy. I sit down on the couch.

        "Hello, I'm Ally. I'll be your therapist for the time being. If you don't cooperate then that will simply extend your visit here, so I highly suggest that you do so." Ally says. Well, get right to the point, don't we? I shrug.

        "How long have you been in your habits?" Ally asks.

        "Five years. I was nine." I grimace as I say it.

         "What triggered it?" She asks.

        "I was with my abusive father at the time. School, bullies. It got to be too much." I reply.

        We continue with this until she calls it a day. Now, free-time.