AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It reminds me of my first day. Shows and movies always make it out to be some big to-do, where you stand up, introduce yourself, and purge your life story.
And sure, that happens…eventually. Slowly.
But not once have I ever felt like I was put on the spot, like I was expecting that first day in group. It wasn’t a Friday, so we didn’t go around sharing sucks and sweets. Instead, others took their turn talking about what was on their mind. And when Dr. Simmons landed on me, I just shook my head, and he moved on.
Something tells me he would’ve done the same for Shawn today.
Honestly, I’m surprised he spoke.
My gaze drops, lingering on his right wrist. He notices, and quickly crosses his arms. When I look up, he’s glaring straight ahead, pointedly avoiding me.
“Well, I think that rounds up today’s session. I’ll see you all Monday.”
Chairs squeak against the floor, and chatter fills the room. The mood to follow is light, light in a way I never expected rehab to be when I first got here, but have come to grown used to in the gaps between therapy and workshops.
One second we’re here, exposing ourselves in all our ugly, raw messiness. And the next, it’s chatter and laughter like it’s a family get together.
Tom claps me on the back and tells me to take care, before making his way over to the refreshments.
Diane gives me a smile, and says she’ll stop by my room later to drop off the book she just finished. I’d never been a big reader, but there’s not much else to do around here. Books, movies, board games…
Mostly, I spend my time writing. Journaling. Scribbling stream of conscious thoughts in a black and white composition notebook the staff provided me. Sometimes I’m writing just for me. Sometimes it’s letters to Izzy. Letters to Jeremy, to Phoebe, to my mom, Gavin and Linda…
Letters no one will ever see.
They’re for me, not them.
Just as I stand, in the corner of my eye, I spot that Shawn guy heading for the door, bypassing the table full of refreshments along the wall where the others have congregated.
Normally, I’d grab a coffee and maybe a donut to take back to my room.
I tell myself that one day, I’ll hang back, mingle with the others. So far, other than passing pleasantries and book and movie swaps, I keep to myself.
And they respect that.
Today, though, I find my feet carrying me toward the hall where the new guy just disappeared.
He’s a good way’s up ahead, his steps growing quicker as the distance between him and the meeting room grow.
Frowning, my steps slow, watching as he strides for the steps, rounding the corner. There’s a quiet thud, and I quicken my steps, just in time to see Shawn nearly collide with someone coming down the stairs. He stumbles back, hands thrown out, fingers spread wide. Eyes bulging.
The guy he ran into—a friendly older man named Uriah who’s obsessed with the New York Yankees—apologizes and offers the younger guy his hand to shake, as if he’s introducing himself.
Shawn stares down at the hand like he’s never seen such a thing.
My frown deepens, and my steps slow to a halt.
Uriah’s smile falters, as Shawn’s face hardens with what looks like anger. Eyes blazing, he takes a step back, then another, and another…
Just for someone coming down the hallway to collide with his back.
This time, I witness firsthand the panic warring with wrath ripping across his features. His eyes all but blacken as he throws himself back with an animalistic snarl.
Oh shit.
“Sor—”
I storm forward just as the woman goes to grab his arm—to comfort him? To steady him? A reflex? I don’t know.
