AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What?
“The Christmas party,” she elaborates. “It was all over social media.”
My stomach twists, with a sharp abdominal pain. “Yeah, that’s me,” I confess shakily. I’m going to be sick, oh God! “Public humiliation. Everyone witnessed it.”
Steffy cringes, her expression turning apologetic, but it’s already too late. That night was exactly what I wanted to forget, but I think maybe it’ll continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. Everyone has seen me at my worst — and because of it I was outcasted, ridiculed and shamed.
“My name is Riley. I have bulimia and anxiety disorder. My parents put me here, so I can’t further humiliate them.”
Their attention doesn’t linger on me, and I’m thankful for that. Anxiety is a bitch and this is exactly why this is a bad idea. Talking to people. Telling them what hurts me.
But I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of relief. It’s a weird feeling of consolation and I don't exactly understand why. Maybe it’s because this is the first time I’ve said those words out loud.
I’m sick, I need help…and my parents think I’m nothing but a humiliation to them.
Our gazes turn to the last girl in the circle. She’s sitting cross-legged against the wall and she’s also the only girl who hasn’t spoken a word yet. The black scarf on her head hides her hair, and fully covers her neck. “My turn?” she speaks, her voice timid.
We all nod in response.
“My name is Maryam. I unknowingly trusted the wrong group of friends. They spiked my drinks and food, until I got addicted. I brought shame to my family and my parents dropped me here. I think they hate me.”
Brought shame to my family…
I think they hate me.
Yeah, that hits close to home.
The room is quiet again, the silence almost poignant. No one offers any condolences to each other. It’s almost like we know we are past that. We don’t want sympathies or someone’s futile pity. No one is trying to be righteous here. Because a stranger’s pity will not end our ceaseless suffering. We all know that to be true, and the silence speaks what is left unsaid. Everyone seems to have realized the real reason why we are here.In this circle.
Dr. Bailey isn’t trying to fix us.
I think…She wants us to heal on our own.
But we can’t do that without a support system, without people who think and feel just like we do. Because our experiences might not be the same, but we understand.
We see each other — everything bad, everything good and everything in between. Dr. Bailey was right about one thing.
The first step to recovery is acceptance.
I need help.
I want to get better.
I want to be Riley who fixes her own crown, fearless Riley — not the Riley who is scared of her own shadow.
TWO MONTHS LATER
Maybe Dr. Bailey wasn’t so wrong about these social circles and the impact of them. I mean, she is right about one thing. The girls and I have been able to create a foundation of camaraderie for ourselves. A support system, as Dr. Bailey would put it.
We have it once a week, but over the last few weeks, we’ve grown even closer. We meet up in the cafeteria at lunch, outside of our restorative circle time, to talk about the things that have no importance whatsoever. But it’s the little talks that keep us going — the idea that we can learn to trust again.
I grab my 16 by 16 inches canvas, waiting for the others to do the same. Our assignment today is to paint something that has meaning to us. Painting is supposed to be therapeutic, I guess. Or that’s what we’ve been told.
“Do you have any idea what you want to paint?” Maryam asks, coming to stand beside me. She has her canvas tucked under her arm and the box of paint in her left hand.
I shrug, because I actually haven’t had the chance to think about it. To paint something that holds importance to me? What does? I guess breathing is important. Oxygen? That’s what’s keeping me alive, at least. “I’m not much of a painter.”
I’ve heard that hope is the dream of a soul awake. But, what happens when the soul loses all hope?
