"Tell me, Claire. How are you feeling today?"

Did he even need to ask? Mr. Richmond knows that I've felt the same for the past 3 months. Well, I call him by his first name, Ray. I was appointed to him as a patient after getting out of Marshall Pickens last July. I told my mom I wanted to overdose and she took me to the emergency room, where I stayed for 14 hours. Finally, a police officer came to get me and drove me to Marshall Pickens.

"Hazy."

"Hazy isn't an emotion."

I love Ray, but he really got on my nerves sometimes with how uptight he is. That's not the right word...maybe "proper"? I can't stand people who act like they're above everyone else because they're so "normal". Casting judgmental glares at the kids who dress different. The kids who talk a bit too loud in the cafeteria, even though everyone else is also talking really loud because they can't hear each other over everyone else because no one can hear themselves over all the other people in the lunchroom who are raising their voices...

"Fine. My mind feels hazy."

"You aren't under the influence of any controlled substances, are you?"

I chortled. My mom locked up all the alcohol, pills, and even the cough medicine because she thought I would try to get high off of it. "Addictive personalities run in this family, dear." 

She said it in a concerned tone, as if I cared.

"No."

"Are you sure? You look a bit haggard."

"Yes, that's just the insomnia kicking in."

"Let's talk about your coping skills. Have you used any of them recently?"

No. Not at all.

"Yeah, a couple times."

"Really? What coping skills have you used?"

Fuck. What were some of the things he told me to do whenever I felt bad? Squeezing modeling clay was one of them. Tasting food slowly was another. But what were they called?

"I've found the grounding techniques to help a lot."

"Well, I'm certainly pleased to hear that. We're making progress." He smiled a bit. But it wasn't a fake smirk. It was a genuine, toothy grin. 

I could only look down, slightly ashamed. I felt bad lying to him, but if he knew I was cutting again, he would call 911. In his words: "I've done it before, and I can do it again." 

He wasn't trying to threaten me, but that's what it came off as. He has good intentions...

"Anything else you would like to talk about today?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Okay. Let me write you a pass back to class and you can be on your way."

I slipped the note in my jacket pocket. "Thanks, Ray."

"No problem, Claire. See you next week."

I flipped the "IN SESSION" sign to say "WELCOME" as I left. It was a Friday, and I only had to suffer through 4th period and the rest of 3rd. After that, it was only a short bus ride till I was free to kick back for the weekend. It's been a long week.

I deserve some peace.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you for reading Chapter 1! If you liked this, please favorite it to get updated whenever I post a new chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome! Leave a comment detailing what you liked and didn't like about this story. I'll see you all in the next chapter!! :P