There was a tree outside my window. It was old and curled to the right and was probably self-conscious about me staring at it all day. There wasn't anything to do in the yellow room they had stuck me in; it was either watch the news or stare out the window. My window just happened to stare out at an old palm tree.

        The door creaked open. I put my elbows on the window sill and leaned my face against the glass just so they would have to clean it later.

        "Dakota?" A female voice questioned. When I didn't answer, she continued on, "The bus to take you to the rehabilitation center will be here in forty-five minutes. Please pack your things and come to the lobby." The door clicked shut.

        One hell to another. I peeled my eyes away from the tree and walked over to my tiny bed. Everything there was depressing and tiny, often in shades of white or yellow. I never understood why people thought the two colors were "cheery." I just thought they were depressing.

        Everything depressed me, though. The pills they shoved down my throat did nothing for that. They just turned me into a broody robot like the rest of them. Just trying to talk made drool come out of the corners of my mouth. My body wasn't even mine anymore.

        I shoved the whole other outfit I had into a tote bag the facility had given me. The therapists suggested I return home for my things, but I refused. Old things meant nothing anymore. What would be the point? My things would just remind me of what I would be doing if I didn't kill Moore.

        I grabbed the bag and headed out the metal door. The hallway was too bright and the nurses were too happy. I sighed and found my way to the yellow-and-white lobby. Three other people sat in the uncomfortable chairs, glancing down at suitcases or bags without paying any mind to the others around them. I followed their example.

        What if I hadn't shot Asshole? What if I had never met Derik? Would I have still been home, whoring around and snorting cocaine? Mom and Mike would still be okay. Derik could have taken down someone who deserved to be taken down. Who had we been hurting? I felt tears stinging at my eyes.

        I knew I wouldn't have ended up a little crying bitch if Derik had never came into the picture.

        "Time to go," somebody said in a monotone. I picked up my bag and followed the small line of people out the door. A white bus sat outside, ready to take us farther down the path of "healing." I sigh at the thought.

        The other people got on before me, but there were still plenty of seats open. I sat in a middle seat, setting my tote next to me. The bus started down the road. I could have been driving down the Strip in Canary, but I was sitting in a bus to rehab. Fuck me.

        The ride was short and we arrived at a boring one-story brick building a few minutes after taking off. It reminded me of a jail. I got off the bus last and followed the others inside.

        It was nice. There was the same eye-killing white design as the detox facility, but at least the workers there tried to brighten things up with colorful paintings and flowers. It still looked like a doctor's office, though. Some too-peachy lady with blonde hair motioned for us to sit on the grody white chairs lining the wall. Evidently they were expecting more buses to come, so we had to wait. I don't know why they couldn't have just assigned us rooms and sent us on our way. I wanted to get rehab over with.

        I wanted it all to be a nightmare.

        The other buses arrived soon after us. Once everyone had been gathered in the lobby, the peachy blonde started jabbering a "welcome to rehab" speech. I tuned her out. I really didn't feel like listening to how I was going to be tortured over the next step of this god-awful process.

        "Dakota Allen," I was pulled out of my daze by Blondey saying my name, "and Georgia Burns, you're in one-forty-five."

        A tiny, white-haired girl a little younger than me stood from a row in front of me. I stood with her and we walked up to the woman who was evidently assigning rooms. She pointed us to a man in purple scrubs and we followed him down a green hallway to our room. The door looked exactly like the one at home: maroon with a golden number nailed to the front. Mom had pulled off the old iron number and spray-painted ours gold when we had first moved in. It was how we had found our way home when we were too fucked up to think straight. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying.

        "Lunch is at two," he told us as he pushed open the door. "The cafeteria is just down the hall to the left. We're going to work on the first step today!" Georgia gave him a huge smile. I didn't care what he had to say and my face showed it. His smile disappeared almost as soon as he laid eyes on me.

        Georgia walked into the room and I followed, closing the door behind us. Our room was painted purple and beige with dark brown carpet. It was a pleasant change from all the wood panelling in my life. Evidently, the room was newly-renevated or the facility was new-- the smell of fresh paint still hung in the air. Maybe if I took deep breaths, I could get high off of the air!

        "Hi Dakota," Georgia said awkwardly from beside me. I looked over at her. She only came up to my shoulder and was even thinner up close. I could have mistaken her for a man if I didn't look close enough; she barely had any tits.

        "Hi Georgia," I said back, staring at the two beds in the room. "Which side do you want?"

        "Uhm..." She trailed off. I glared down at her. She was shaking. What the hell?

        "Damn girl, what's wrong?"

        "I-I..." She squeaked and pulled her stuff to the right side of the room. I stared at her for longer than was acceptable. How did I get stuck with such a little pussy rooming with me? She caught me staring, her dark blue eyes almost immediately filling with fear when she did.

        "D-did you want this side?" She pulled a rabbit out of her tote bag and squeezed it. She looked petrified.

        "Uhm, no, Honey," I said, finally taking my eyes off of her and moving to my side of the room. "Calm down. I'unno what shit you've been through, but I ain't gonna hurt'cha, okay?" She nodded but didn't look very convinced.

        I unpack my outfit and stuff it into the drawer of my end table. The bed was much more comfortable than the one back at detox. It was also bigger, which I was happy for. I could have actually moved in my sleep and not had to worry about falling off the bed. A tube sat on a table in the corner of my side of the room. I glanced over at Georgia's side and noticed the same setup.

        I slid off the bed and walked over to the tube. I turned it on and looked around for the channel dial. How was I even supposed to change channels? It hummed to life after a minute and I stared in awe at the color picture.

        "Oh my god, I've never owned a color tube."

        Georgia giggled from across the room.

        "Really?" She asked. I heard a squeak after she spoke and turned to look at her. She had her rabbit in front of her face, the terrified look back in her eyes.

        "Yeah," I said, giving her a confused look. "Is this one of those fancy new ones with a... thing... to change the channels with?"

        "A remote?" She giggled again, this time looking a little more comfortable. "Dakota, have you been living under a rock for the past three decades?"

        "Well, we only have a couple channels, so no point in buying one of these fancy things. And we never watch the tube anyway. We're..." I trailed off. I was talking about everything as if it was still my life, like my mom and Mike were still free. Georgia squeaked again, looking terrified.

        "I'm sorry!" Her voice turned all high-pitched and she pulled up the purple covers of her bed and hid underneath them.

        "Oh, no, Georgia, it's not you." What had happened to her? I thought losing everything was shitty, but I was just skulking around in depression, not jumping at my own shadow.

        I stood and walked over to Georgia's bed. She uncovered her head enough to let one eye peep from under the covers.

        "Honey, what's wrong?" I asked. She blinked her eye. "I mean, I've been through some tough shit, but damn."

        "Uhm..." She froze up again.

        "You don't have to talk now if you don't wanna."

        "O-okay."

        She threw the covers back over her head. I gave her one last weird look before I walked over to the tube to see what kind of channels these guys had. A NASCAR race was on, so I decided to just keep it there. I hopped up on my bed and laid on my stomach, admiring the multi-colored cars that streaked across the colored screen. All my friends had color TV, but the tube was our last priority. I would have rather been whoring around than watching sitcoms any day.

        The Tide car had managed to hold the pole position the whole race. It was down to the last five laps when someone came knocking on our door. I looked at the clock on my night stand. It was ten before two. The door opened and the guy in the purple scrubs poked his head in.

        "Time for lunch, ladies," he told us before closing the door back. Georgia kicked off all the covers and stood up. I stayed where I was, wanting to know which car would win.

        "Dakota?" Her voice was tiny.

        "Yes?"

        "Will you sit with me at lunch?" My god, was she in junior high or something?

        "Uh, sure, Georgia." Two more laps to go. I sat up on my bed, leaning on my knees to see if the Tide car would be victorious. As the cars rounded turn three, one smashed into the wall. Dozens of other cars smashed into it, sliding across the track. I cried out in frustration. I just wanted to see who would win!

        Georgia squeaked at my outburst. I looked at her side of the room only to find her sitting on my bed. She had the petrified look on her face again, only this time she didn't have her rabbit. I wondered again what the fuck had happened to her.

        "Let's go to lunch," I said, standing up from my bed and staring at the tube in disappointment. "If we're lucky, we might get back to see who wins."

        "Wins what?" Georgia's voice shook.

        "The... race." I pointed at the tube. I had never dealt with anyone as jumpy as her. She was really uncomfortable around me, but I wasn't sure if it was me or something else. Either way, I felt awful for her. I couldn't even imagine being that scared of the world. I walked over to her and gave her a quick hug. Her tiny body felt very breakable, her arms like little sticks when they wrapped around me. She gave me a grin after I let go, showing off a mouth full of yellowed and blackened teeth.

        I walked out the door with Georgia trailing behind me. We walked down the hall and to the cafeteria. The room was big and had round tables that looked like they came straight out of my school. I sat down at the table closest to the back of the room as possible. Georgia sat opposite of me.

        We sat in silence. The other patients seemed to have the same idea; no one would have ever known there were people in the cafeteria if they hadn't called on them themselves. A few minutes after the last people arrived, Blondey re-entered the room and stood at the front. Georgia turned around her chair to listen to her.

        "Today's lunch is..." I tuned her out and put my head in my arms. Everything was gone and replaced with institutionalized "healing" and a girl who was afraid of her own shadow. I didn't even know what to think; I was still hoping that everything that had happened was some kind of nightmare I couldn't wake up from. The idea was the only thing that kept me sane.

        Georgia got up from her chair. I assumed Blondey had stopped talking, so I stood up too. Everyone was lining up in front of a window to get lunch. The cooks handed out plates to everyone at the window. I wasn't even hungry. I hadn't been in days.

        I sat back down and ran my fingers over the table's smooth surface. The other people... they probably had families. Free families who were home, waiting for their relative to come back from rehab. I had no one. A groan escaped me. Maybe if I died, I could wake up from this nightmare and be home and happy.

        But what if it wasn't a nightmare?

        Georgia sat down across from me. I didn't move.

        "Aren't you going to eat?" She asked. I looked above my arms to see her plate. Chicken and salad. No thank you.

        "Not hungry," I grumbled back.

        "A-are..." she trailed off. I really hoped she'd learn to calm down. All the stuttering and fear was starting to get on my nerves. I didn't talk back to her that time. I put my head back into my arms. I wanted to see who won the race and waste away until I could leave.

        Blondey tapped a spoon against a wine glass, the sound penetrating the sound of people eating. The noise was unnecessary. No one had spoken since getting their meals. Georgia and I had been the only ones.

        "Attention!" My god, kill her; everyone was already staring at her. "Is anyone here ready to admit their problem to the group?" Really?

        No one spoke up. I scooted back the chair and stood up.

        "Yeah," I said, "I have a problem with you. What the hell are you doing with that wine glass and your peppy fucking attitude? Get the fuck over yourself, bitch; you're no better than us." I sat back down. The smile fell off her face. Georgia had the terrified look again.

        Blondey cleared her throat and her smile returned. She said, "What I mean by 'problem' is a problem pertaining to drugs. To solve a problem, you must admit you have one!"

        Georgia stood up from her chair. She was shaking, but she still managed to croak out her confession, "I am... was... addicted to meth." She sat down immediately after speaking. Blondey clapped for Georgia. No one else seemed to care.

        "Excellent!" The blonde nurse said. "Does anyone else have a confession?"

        I put my head back into my arms. It wasn't like anyone else was going to stand up and scream they had a problem to the world. I was surprised to hear chairs scoot out and people quietly confessing their addictions. There was more applause after each one.

        Georgia laid a hand on my shoulder after one of them finished speaking and whispered, "You're the only one left."

        Fucking seriously? I didn't exactly have a choice but to admit I had a cocaine problem. Who knew how long Blondey would keep us if I didn't speak up? I raised my head out of my arms and sat up straight.

        "I am addicted to coke," I said across the room. I didn't bother to stand. A couple people clapped for me. Georgia was one of them.

        Blondey seemed pleased and started to yammer on about some kind of group thing. I tuned her out again. When people started to get up and go back to their rooms, I followed their example. Georgia followed me back to our room.

        The NASCAR aftershow was on and, luckily, the placings were running along the top of the screen. The Tide car won the race while I had been at lunch. Almost half of the cars had been wrecked, though. The driver of the car was on the tube, talking about how great his sponsors were to the world.

        "He really does love the sponsors, doesn't he?" Georgia said out of nowhere. I looked over my shoulder at her and shrugged. A shadow of fear and guilt passed over her eyes.

        "I think they get fired if they don't talk about the people who pay for everything," I said. I pushed the channel button, stopping at the news. I pulled myself up onto my bed and stared at the television, watching as news of murders and tragedy flicked across the screen. I wanted to be out there.