Fragile Bonds

by Sloan Johnson

  “Megaen, so nice of you to join us,” Dr. Maxwell says in that syrupy sweet voice that makes me want to punch her. She’s another thing about this place that makes my skin crawl. It’s not that Doctor Maxwell does anything questionable, it’s more the way she senses someone coming before there’s any way she can see them. “Please, take a seat so we can begin.”

  The rest of the freaks are already sitting around the lounge, all staring at me. I know that might not be the politically correct way to refer to them, but it’s similar to girls calling one another “bitch” as a term of endearment. No one wants to be up here and, other than the mental issues, none of us are sick, so we don’t like being called patients. One rainy afternoon, we all decided that we’d call a spade a spade. We’re freaks in the eyes of society. For one reason or another, we’re the ones who aren’t normal. I see Trevor look away before he busts up laughing at the twisted face I make in Doctor Maxwell’s direction when she’s not looking.

  If he wasn’t gay as the day is long, I could see myself hooking up with Trevor. He’s well over six-feet tall, thin in a very hipster sort of way and makes me laugh, even when all I really want to do is hit something. He got here a few days before me and, from the sounds of it, will be here for quite a while. Where I was shoved up here as a way for my father to avoid being a parent, Trevor is here because he’s completely and utterly fucked up in the head. He decided to down a handful of pills with a glass of vodka. When we first met, he wasn’t even ashamed of the fact that he was pissed about his roommate walking in shortly before Trevor checked out.

  After having his stomach pumped in the spa and being fed a gourmet dinner of activated charcoal, he was brought here, to the five-star resort, for some relaxation. I told you, we’re all a little fucked up around here and have no problem finding ways to entertain ourselves, even if it’s by making it sound like we’re in a five-star resort instead of the psych ward. Because honestly, being here is just depressing, and the way I see it, that defeats the purpose of being here. If we want to leave, we’re supposed to not be depressed.

  “Is it true that you’re bailing on me tomorrow?” Trevor whispers in my ear. I look over at him and he’s giving me these sad puppy-dog eyes. Is he really going to be upset with me because I’m not volunteering to stay here with him?

  “So they tell me,” I respond, my tone flat. Given the choice, there’s part of me that would rather be here at this point. My father has proven, once again, that he doesn’t give a shit and I know I’m going to be stuck with some middle-aged, balding crony until I get through the outpatient phase of the program. Doctor Maxwell continues rambling on about healthy coping mechanisms, but now Trevor is far more interested in why I sound so unenthusiastic about leaving this place. Before he can pry, I hold up a hand to silence him. “Let it go, Trevor. I told you before, shit on the outside isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  At least here I have people who give a damn about me.

  The good doctor doesn’t even finish her spiel at the end of our group session before I’m out of my chair, rushing down the hall to my room. It’s still dark and creepy, but I have shit to do and people to avoid. Lisa, a mousy girl with less self-esteem than just about anyone I’ve ever met kept glancing in our direction during the last half of group. I feel bad ignoring her, but she’s new around here and I’ve already allowed myself to get too close to too many people. How else can I explain the fucked up notion that it’d be better to stay here than get outside and enjoy life? It’s the start of summer, I should want nothing more than to feel the sun on my skin.

  At the sound of knuckles rapping at my door, I turn to see Doctor Maxwell studying me. Seriously, she’s the one who told me I’m healthy enough to leave, so why the last-minute assessment now? “Meagan, can I have a word with you?” she asks, not waiting to be invited into my room.

  “Like I could say no if I wanted to,” I respond sarcastically. Rolling my eyes, I continue pulling clothes out of my drawers, carefully packing them in my lone suitcase.

  “Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks, taking a seat at the small desk in the corner.

  “Like you said yesterday, I’ve been ready to go. I know my dad thinks I’ll fall back on the pills, but that’s not the case. It’s never been the case, but he’s convinced he knows me better than I know myself.” Seriously, what does this woman expect me to say?

  “Yes, I would agree with you there. Honestly, I’m not sure you ever belonged here. I think you have some issues that you do need to talk to someone about, but they’re not related to your problem when you were younger. And that is what concerns me about you leaving.” She picks at the corner of one manicured finger before continuing. Fucking shrinks. “You haven’t mentioned anything about the fact that your father hasn’t come to any of the family sessions and has someone else picking you up tomorrow.”

  Just wonderful. She’s seriously going to push the daddy issues now. As if I don’t realize that I’m a ticking time bomb when it comes to that man. “It’s nothing new. As soon as I turned fourteen, he decided I was old enough to take care of myself and I have. He didn’t want to be a single father and so he wasn’t once he thought I should be self-sufficient. Then I went through my ‘rebellious phase’ as he puts it and suddenly he jumped in, but it’s always been an act to him.”

  A small ache forms inside my chest. It’s the tiny corner of my heart that will always wish I was daddy’s little girl. That’s what sucks the most, knowing that I fooled myself into thinking I was something special to him and then having it ripped away from me.

  “Who’s picking me up, anyway?” I ask, wondering why this is the first time I thought to ask. Probably one of the lackeys from his office. There are plenty of people more than willing to kiss my father’s ass if they think it’ll earn them brownie points in his eyes. Little do they know that Gavin Pratt uses that to his full advantage.

  Doctor Maxwell flips open a small notebook, looking at her notes. “It says here that his name is Liam Caprese.”

  Acknowledgments

  Without a doubt, this is the hardest book that I’ve written to date. There are so many people who have talked me off the ledge when I swore I wasn’t brave enough to hit publish because it’s so much different than anything I’ve ever done before.

  Debi, Kristen and Nikki, you three are my bubble. You are my sanity. Not only did you calm me down and let me work through a million and one “what-if” scenarios, you allowed me to rip your hearts out time and time again and you kept coming back for more. I’m not sure what I would do without you!

  Christine, Nichole, and Jen, thank you for coming on board to help with this book! I’m not sure where you’ve been all my life, but I’m grateful you’re here now!

  And the other Jen… oh, did you have any clue what you were getting into when you met me? You’ve helped me so much with figuring out how to get the word out there, I don’t know what I would have done without you!

  Anna, thank you for jumping in to weed out all of the issues with my book. I know you weren’t expecting the story you received, but it’s because of you that the book is ready to show other people!