Post by bespecledcow on Jul 6, 2011 14:23:29 GMT -5
Hey all! As some of you may know, I want to be a published author some day. And I thought that as some of you also like writing, this would be a good thread to publish some original works! Be they poetry, short stories, bits of novels, whatever! The only thing I'd say is that if you're going to post something, you should try to say something about the story or whatever posted before yours, and something more than 'it was good.'
....okay, yeah, I'll partially admit I'm starting this thread cause no one critiques my stuff on TwilightSucks...no matter how much critique I give.
But I also thought it would be good to share our stuff with each other. 
Okay, format.
Title:
Rating:
Word Count:
Any author notes or extra info you want to add:
So, here we go!
Title: The Beauty of It All
Rating: T, for implied violence, drug and domestic abuse, as well as self-loathing
Word Count: 3,787
A/N: This was written for a writing contest I didn't place in, and I hope to turn it into a novel some day. This was started in part because I hate how the social view seems to be that if you are confident and know you are beautiful, you are vain. Instead of, you know, confident. Oh yeah, and the POV character's name is sort of a play on Helen Keller.
....okay, yeah, I'll partially admit I'm starting this thread cause no one critiques my stuff on TwilightSucks...no matter how much critique I give.
But I also thought it would be good to share our stuff with each other. 
Okay, format.
Title:
Rating:
Word Count:
Any author notes or extra info you want to add:
So, here we go!
Title: The Beauty of It All
Rating: T, for implied violence, drug and domestic abuse, as well as self-loathing
Word Count: 3,787
A/N: This was written for a writing contest I didn't place in, and I hope to turn it into a novel some day. This was started in part because I hate how the social view seems to be that if you are confident and know you are beautiful, you are vain. Instead of, you know, confident. Oh yeah, and the POV character's name is sort of a play on Helen Keller.
“You want me to do what?”
Across from the stupid kindergarten like circle, the councilor, Rachel, raised her eyebrows. “I want all of you,” she said slowly, like she was in fact explaining the alphabet to a small child, “To go around in a circle, and say your names. Then, say, ‘I’m beautiful.’ Okay?”
“No,” I snapped. “No, not okay. Why do you want us to say that? It’s so stupid.” I snorted. “We don’t have to say that.”
Rachel smiled. “You seem to be finding this rather difficult. I didn’t think it was a hard task.”
“It’s not,” I growled. God, what was with this woman? Oh, right. She was a shrink. There to help find the ‘inner me’ or something. “It’s stupid. Why do you want us to say that?”
Rachel shrugged one shoulder. “Because it’s true.”
Across the way, Zach laughed mockingly. “Oh, oh please let me go first!” he mimed a grade school kid waving their hand in the air to get the attention of a teacher. He stopped suddenly and leaned forward, his eyes dark. “Do you really think you can make me say anything?”
Seeming wholly unconcerned with the angry six-foot-tall teenage boy, Rachel met his glare straight on. “Nope. But I’ve got all the time in the world. And you, trying to threaten me, because of one little sentence? Interesting….” She made to write on her clipboard.
Zach was snarling, and he wasn’t the only one. Peter, across the way, was staring at the woman as if she’d lost her mind, while Arella and Mindy weren’t looking at anyone, staring at their laps. Krystal’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was shaking. Bryon seemed to be the only anxious one, even though he was covering it by anger. He needed a good evaluation to get out of JUVI. The rest of us were supposed to come to these stupid meetings to stay out of it.
This shrink was playing us all for cowards, and I was getting pissed.
“Hannah, you seem like you’re ready to burst. Think you can say it now?” Rachel leaned back in her chair, keeping her unusually large green eyes on me. “Why is it so hard? All you have to do is say ‘My name is Hannah Kneller, and I’m beautiful.’ You can do it.” Her voice softened.
Her stupid soft voice and smile and eyes and clipboard made my blood boil and I started laughing. “You- you- oh that’s- that’s rich,” I choked out. I stood, sneering. “You say ‘because its truuuuue.’ That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Us, beautiful? Ha!” My body seemed to be quaking, my hands clenched and unclenched, but my voice didn’t sound right, didn’t sound brave and fierce like I wanted it to.
I whirled onto Zach. “We’ve got a bald wanna-be gangster with a gigantic nose-” I turned to Peter. “Some guy with a face so screwed up you can hardly see his mouth,” I turned toward all of them one at a time. “A fat chick, a girl with mountains on her face, another person that’s supposed to be a girl but looks like a guy, some dude that apparently doesn’t know how to shave himself, and me, the pasty, ugly girl. None of us are beautiful.” I spat. And then, smirking, I advanced on her. “And you, the completely sub-par woman with no breasts, and a face that no one would pay attention to.”
The stupid woman didn’t even seem insulted. Guess it was all freaking rainbows and sunshine for her. She just raised her eyebrows, and then drew her shoulders back, speaking clearly.
“My name is Rachel Morris, and I’m beautiful.” The sureness in her voice nearly made me burst out laughing. She actually believed it. How pitiful.
Rachel looked to the person on her left, Mindy, the fat one. “Think you can say it now?” Mindy flushed a blotchy red, shaking her head, staring down at her lap.
This fueled my anger more. God. Rachel didn’t have to go out and insult the fat chick. I mean, I’d done that, but only to my friends and I wasn’t an adult or a supposed professional. And I’d always ignored the niggling discomfort that came with saying such things. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing really mattered. Nothing that you did was important enough to anyone. Teachers were always around us, but they did nothing to stop us, or others, calling out to people, whispering words that carried to everyone, or even not saying anything, just laughing, or looking at them a certain way. And what did the teachers do? Nothing. We received a new bullying policy every year, one called reformed and better, but that didn’t stop people from trying to shove me up against lockers, call me stupid words that somehow put me on edge, hating me, for no reason, for reasons I didn’t understand, or for reasons that secretly, somewhere I didn’t acknowledge in my head, made me ashamed.
Rachel’s head swiveled around to all of us. “You all think I’m making fun of her. I can assure you, I’m not.” Her voice was clear, and soft. “She is beautiful. What’s sad is how none of you, not even her, can see it.”
I laughed again, cackling and mad, like a villain from a cartoon. “Oh, that’s right, you were talking about our inner beauty, right? That stupid saying that’s been shoved in our heads from kindergarten on- that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Because she’s fat she must be good on the inside. Well I’ve got news for you.” I leaned forward, still shaking. “None of us are beautiful on the inside. In there, we’re even uglier.”
Rachel stared at me for several moments in silence. She looked like she would cry. Good. “You really believe that, don’t you?” Her voice was soft. “That’s the sad thing. You really believe that.”
“It’s true,” I said, and I was disgusted at how we had suddenly switched positions, how I was repeating what she had said before.
She kept her eyes on me for a moment, a moment that stretched on in time for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain. Then, she slowly turned her eyes to the others, holding their gaze. Mindy, Peter, and Krystal looked away. Bryon seemed like he wanted to. No one said anything, though I could still feel the charged fury on the air. How could she do that? Was it something they taught in Shrink school- how to keep people quiet with your eyes? Then Rachel spoke again. “It isn’t, though. Your classmates, the media, and even your parents or so called friends may want you to believe that, but it isn’t true.”
The spell was broken with her words. Zach snorted. “So, what, you’re here to teach us all that we could be supermodels or something? No way.”
“Not at all, unless that is what you want to be.” Rachel crossed her legs, bringing her hands together on her lap, elbows pressing the shirt closer to her torso, highlighting her practically non-existent breasts. “On your files it will say that you are here to be rehabilitated. It says that I am here to make you ‘see the light’ and change you all to perfectly dutiful, law-abiding darlings. Granted, that’s not verbatim, but that is the gist of it nonetheless. However, while I do hope that you all won’t break the law after our sessions are complete, what I want, what I will try to achieve most of all, is something that is both simple, and infinitely more complicated.”
“Cut the psycho-babble,” Krystal hissed, her large hands curled into fists.
Rachel had the gall to smile a little. This chick was officially stupid. “Well, as they say, ‘the truth shall set you free’. That is my goal. That you will all be able to find the truth about yourselves.”
“Great,” Peter snarled, his scars standing out even more in his red face. “My parents are paying god knows how much for this crap? For some hippie ideology about being happy with ourselves on the inside. If that’s what the next months are going to be like, I’d rather go to jail.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Go right ahead,” she said, motioning toward the door. “It’s your choice, after all.”
Peter didn’t move. No one did. Finally, he sank back in his seat, glaring at the shrink, his arms shaking, something like fear behind the anger in his eyes. I must have been staring, because he glanced over at me. I scowled at him. He scowled back, rolling his eyes and turning away. I met Zach’s gaze, and he smirked at me. I felt compelled to give him the smile I reserved for guys that wanted to get into my pants, and who I had decided would succeed. I’d seen him around school a few times. He was like me, and here, in this stupid little circle, I could use all the allies and amusing companions that I could get.
Rachel didn’t smirk at her victory. She turned to us, and said, “We have plenty of time to work up to that. I will ask at the beginning of each session, both the private, and the ones you share together, if you can say that you are beautiful yet. As of now, let’s start with something simple. We’ll go around and say something that we like, a favorite band, or food, and so on. Alright?”
I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat, sliding down until my back curved and my head was level with the back of the chair. “We don’t have to do anything you say,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. Why was this small, average, woman so vastly irritating? Peter was almost right. Dealing with her for the next months was going to be hell.
“True,” she agreed, “you don’t. You don’t have to do anything. But if the courts find that I was unsuccessful, they will send you back to JUVI- some of you to jail by the time this is over.” The smile had left her face, her big green eyes grim.
Byron cast a frantic glance at the rest of us, and scooted his chair forward. “My favorite sport is soccer,” he said quickly, his hands clenching on the sides of his chair. The heavy amount of hair on his face and at his arms made me think of a gorilla in a zoo- trapped, intelligent, staring out at the only people that had the power to set him free.
Rachel smiled. “Thanks for starting us off, Byron. Let’s go to the left from you on, alright?”
Krystal was next to him. She rolled her eyes, slouching in her chair, the perfect example of ‘I couldn’t care less’. She wasn’t fat, but big-boned and tall, lacking as much in the breast area as the shrink. Her dark hair was cut short, and a scar was plainly visible crossing over her collarbones. “Offspring,” she grunted finally. Contrary to how she looked, her voice was light and higher pitched than mine.
I blinked. I liked Offspring too. Shrugging, I inched a little lower in my seat, wondering if I could fall asleep. Small world, I guess. Arella, sitting next to her, pushed her glasses farther up her face, licking her lips. Sweat gleamed on her cheeks and forehead, pimples shining red. I wondered briefly what she could have done to wind up here. She hardly looked the type to try anything drastic. Maybe some other girl had gotten a higher grade than her, and she’d cracked?
Aside from her face, she wore a sleeveless v-neck sweater, her straight black hair flopped forward in a vain attempt to hide her face, arms folded like mine, but more like she was trying to get warm. She was thin enough, and had breasts, so if she wore a paper bag she could almost be a normal human, I supposed. “I like…” She stopped, and bit her lip. “Skiing,” she said finally. “My parents and I go every winter, and,” she stopped, hands actually covering her mouth. She lowered them slowly, looking away.
“I like skiing too, Arella,” Rachel said, her smile different somehow, softer, almost. Her voice, too, was light, like a mom comforting her toddler after they had had a nightmare.
Zach was next. He grinned wolfishly, obviously the grin he used to intimidate others. Rachel didn’t react, just waited patiently. “Knives,” he said with something like relish. “Slicing people’s skin and watching the blood flow-”
I had to hand it to him, he was good at what he did. His words were creepy, and I saw Mindy draw back from him, scooting her chair away. He looked to me, still grinning, and I smiled back. He knew I understood.
“Fascinating,” Rachel commented dryly, looking bored for the first time. “You really ought to become an actor, you know. You are very believeable,” she smiled again. Zach’s eyes flashed and he stood, towering above us, and I felt the desire to draw back as well. I fought it, staying where I was.
Rachel met him stare for stare. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said clearly. “I know very well that you think hurting others brings you joy, but as someone that grew up using a knife on the streets, I know very well that a knife isn’t what you use. You’re more partial to bombs. It’s less personal, you know. There’s more distance between you and the victim. You make them yourself of course, showing a good aptitude for science, I might add. And you do it again and again, never killing anyone, not yet. Why do you think you keep doing it, and that you’re so angry about it all even though you claim to love it? Things we enjoy bring us satisfaction, but there is none for you doing these things, is there? Maybe you just want to get people to hurt like you do, so that they will understand, even though you don’t think you want them to. Maybe there’s another reason. But it’s not because you like hurting them.” She made a note on her clipboard, bending her head. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to get this right.”
Zach was actually shaking. His eyes seemed almost black as they glared at her, hating her, truly, and yet-
I shook myself. What did I know? While Rachel was apparently very brave, she was still wrong about us. She had to be.
Zach sat down in his chair, still glaring. Rachel smiled at him, and something in her face tugged at my heart, not because of pain within it, but because of the attempt at understanding. Like someone holding you and saying, ‘I know, I know. It’s going to be alright, tell me all about it.’
“Mindy?” Rachel questioned, turning a little to the fat girl. Mindy stared at her hands in her lap. Her hair was long and pinned up, her orange shirt definitely not the right color for the redness of her hair. The fat at her arms quivered as she breathed, her double chin shaking. “Going to the movies,” she mumbled, glancing up and then away from Rachel, who smiled encouragingly while Zach snorted, muttering something about Mindy probably breaking one of the seats.
Rachel’s eyes flicked to him, and for the first time she looked angry. Her mouth curled into a heavy frown, and she stared him down. He looked away first.
For the first time, I thought that perhaps there was credence to the saying that not everything was as it seemed. Of course, I should have known that before. My house seemed fine, after all, and my dad especially. And how wrong was that, really? Of course, I was no better. But I didn’t pretend to be better than I was. I showed exactly how slunk down and rotten I was. I didn’t bother to try and hide my ugliness under layers of makeup or fake smiles. I reveled in my putrid essence. The bad things were always easier to believe, anyway.
Peter was next to Mindy. He was slumped in his chair like me, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment I thought he was asleep, but then he shifted a little, and looked up.
I realized stupidly that though most of his features were indistinguishable in his face with all the scars, I could see his eyes more, perhaps because they had so much color that they drew my own eyes. For a moment I forgot about his scars. I had never seen eyes quite like that before, almost violet in color. He held my gaze for a moment, then snorted and looked at Rachel. Something shifted in his face, the scars moving by his chin, and I realized that he was smiling, just a little. My mouth twisted. Looks like Rachel has found herself a friend, I thought acidly, hating her already. No. I didn’t hate her. She just wanted to know too much, expected too much, was too soft that I almost felt like I could lean against her and really sleep again.
“Being alive,” he said.
At this, Rachel’s small-lip smile grew softly, showing her teeth, her head tilted a little to one side, her eyes shining brightly like she would cry. I scowled. Guess whatever had screwed up Peter’s face gave him an appreciation for life or some crap like that. Whatever.
The others were staring at Peter. His response had been unusual, for sure. I guess the movies would call it ‘deep’. And maybe it was, but I sure didn’t know.
I realized one thing, though, looking at him. Maybe it was or wasn’t deep, but I knew for sure that it was true. Not that what the others had said wasn’t true, but they weren’t true like what Peter had said. For a moment his eyes met mine again, and in that moment, instead of being caught up, I felt stupid. He wasn’t looking at me like I was, but looking in his eyes I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet, like I had no idea what anything was about.
I turned my head sharply away. I knew plenty. My dad had made sure of that.
Though I guess knowing and understanding aren’t the same things. My dad had taught me that, too, inadvertently.
It was my turn. What was I supposed to say? My favorite ice cream flavor, my favorite place to smoke, my favorite holiday? A truth like Peter’s? No. All of my truths were ones that hid inside my head, revealed only when it would hurt the most, or not at all, though I supposed that was a truth in and of itself. Even that grated against my blood, twisting in my veins like poison.
“Rollerblading.” I said finally. It was true. I’d always been good at it, and still did it when my friends were too stoned to be company, or my dad was on his usual kick and I had to get out of the house.
Rachel was still smiling. If I hadn’t seen her frown at Zach, I would have wondered if she was capable of an unhappy expression, or if she’d melt like that witch in the Wizard of Oz. “Thank you, all of you. Now, we’ll go in the reverse direction, and this time say something that you think will surprise people about you. So, you can start Hannah.”
I threw her a disgusted look. “I have to go again? No way. I just went.”
Ever patient, she nodded. “You do have to go again. Come on. We still have time.”
It was all too much. Everything. In my mind I saw every look I’d been given in the past week- the judge’s, the audience, my little brother’s- looks of pity and confusion and anger. My father’s- hate and perverse satisfaction. Rachel’s kind smiles and knowing eyes. I couldn’t- wouldn’t, shouldn’t- say anything. It was too much. I was useless and wrong and stupid and ugly I knew, but so what? What did the world have to offer me? I was dead to them, a waste of space and money, proven by the fact that when I stood up for myself at the right moment, I was still struck down.
Of course, no one knew the truth. But if the truth came out, then it would choke me, and I couldn’t escape it.
My arms were shaking. I stared at nothing. “You want shock value?” I whispered, looking up at all of them, letting my manic grin spread across my cheeks. This was the smile I showed when I thought about it, about any of my actions and the pain that had brought them about. “I am in this stupid circle because the jury found me guilty of trying to kill my father. Almost did it too, if my brother hadn’t found us.” I laughed, standing, feeling their eyes and hating it, hating the awe and understanding and fear, wanting just one simple thing I’d never really gotten, except from my brother, but he was so little still.
“I tried to kill my father. I tried to kill him, and I still want to succeed. How’s that for a surprise?” I spat the last word, my anger breaking through. My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t look at Rachel or Zach or Peter or any of the others. I wanted to hide and go away. No one knew the truth. They would never know, because I would keep it buried until it went away.
Without another word, I sprinted for the door, flung it open, and ran, Rachel’s voice calling for me to come back.
I didn’t know where I was going, but location hardly mattered. The truth had risen, and had almost smothered me, but I couldn’t let it. I had to drown it in whatever I could find. Nothing worked all the way, or all the time. My temporary fixes were many and varied. Now it was the running that did it, the pounding of my heart while sweat rolled down my face and somehow from my eyes, though I couldn’t think about that, about anything, or I’d never be able to go on. Because then the truth would be right there in my face, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Rachel said that the truth sets you free. But it can destroy you, too.
Across from the stupid kindergarten like circle, the councilor, Rachel, raised her eyebrows. “I want all of you,” she said slowly, like she was in fact explaining the alphabet to a small child, “To go around in a circle, and say your names. Then, say, ‘I’m beautiful.’ Okay?”
“No,” I snapped. “No, not okay. Why do you want us to say that? It’s so stupid.” I snorted. “We don’t have to say that.”
Rachel smiled. “You seem to be finding this rather difficult. I didn’t think it was a hard task.”
“It’s not,” I growled. God, what was with this woman? Oh, right. She was a shrink. There to help find the ‘inner me’ or something. “It’s stupid. Why do you want us to say that?”
Rachel shrugged one shoulder. “Because it’s true.”
Across the way, Zach laughed mockingly. “Oh, oh please let me go first!” he mimed a grade school kid waving their hand in the air to get the attention of a teacher. He stopped suddenly and leaned forward, his eyes dark. “Do you really think you can make me say anything?”
Seeming wholly unconcerned with the angry six-foot-tall teenage boy, Rachel met his glare straight on. “Nope. But I’ve got all the time in the world. And you, trying to threaten me, because of one little sentence? Interesting….” She made to write on her clipboard.
Zach was snarling, and he wasn’t the only one. Peter, across the way, was staring at the woman as if she’d lost her mind, while Arella and Mindy weren’t looking at anyone, staring at their laps. Krystal’s lips were pressed tightly together, and she was shaking. Bryon seemed to be the only anxious one, even though he was covering it by anger. He needed a good evaluation to get out of JUVI. The rest of us were supposed to come to these stupid meetings to stay out of it.
This shrink was playing us all for cowards, and I was getting pissed.
“Hannah, you seem like you’re ready to burst. Think you can say it now?” Rachel leaned back in her chair, keeping her unusually large green eyes on me. “Why is it so hard? All you have to do is say ‘My name is Hannah Kneller, and I’m beautiful.’ You can do it.” Her voice softened.
Her stupid soft voice and smile and eyes and clipboard made my blood boil and I started laughing. “You- you- oh that’s- that’s rich,” I choked out. I stood, sneering. “You say ‘because its truuuuue.’ That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Us, beautiful? Ha!” My body seemed to be quaking, my hands clenched and unclenched, but my voice didn’t sound right, didn’t sound brave and fierce like I wanted it to.
I whirled onto Zach. “We’ve got a bald wanna-be gangster with a gigantic nose-” I turned to Peter. “Some guy with a face so screwed up you can hardly see his mouth,” I turned toward all of them one at a time. “A fat chick, a girl with mountains on her face, another person that’s supposed to be a girl but looks like a guy, some dude that apparently doesn’t know how to shave himself, and me, the pasty, ugly girl. None of us are beautiful.” I spat. And then, smirking, I advanced on her. “And you, the completely sub-par woman with no breasts, and a face that no one would pay attention to.”
The stupid woman didn’t even seem insulted. Guess it was all freaking rainbows and sunshine for her. She just raised her eyebrows, and then drew her shoulders back, speaking clearly.
“My name is Rachel Morris, and I’m beautiful.” The sureness in her voice nearly made me burst out laughing. She actually believed it. How pitiful.
Rachel looked to the person on her left, Mindy, the fat one. “Think you can say it now?” Mindy flushed a blotchy red, shaking her head, staring down at her lap.
This fueled my anger more. God. Rachel didn’t have to go out and insult the fat chick. I mean, I’d done that, but only to my friends and I wasn’t an adult or a supposed professional. And I’d always ignored the niggling discomfort that came with saying such things. It didn’t matter anyway. Nothing really mattered. Nothing that you did was important enough to anyone. Teachers were always around us, but they did nothing to stop us, or others, calling out to people, whispering words that carried to everyone, or even not saying anything, just laughing, or looking at them a certain way. And what did the teachers do? Nothing. We received a new bullying policy every year, one called reformed and better, but that didn’t stop people from trying to shove me up against lockers, call me stupid words that somehow put me on edge, hating me, for no reason, for reasons I didn’t understand, or for reasons that secretly, somewhere I didn’t acknowledge in my head, made me ashamed.
Rachel’s head swiveled around to all of us. “You all think I’m making fun of her. I can assure you, I’m not.” Her voice was clear, and soft. “She is beautiful. What’s sad is how none of you, not even her, can see it.”
I laughed again, cackling and mad, like a villain from a cartoon. “Oh, that’s right, you were talking about our inner beauty, right? That stupid saying that’s been shoved in our heads from kindergarten on- that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Because she’s fat she must be good on the inside. Well I’ve got news for you.” I leaned forward, still shaking. “None of us are beautiful on the inside. In there, we’re even uglier.”
Rachel stared at me for several moments in silence. She looked like she would cry. Good. “You really believe that, don’t you?” Her voice was soft. “That’s the sad thing. You really believe that.”
“It’s true,” I said, and I was disgusted at how we had suddenly switched positions, how I was repeating what she had said before.
She kept her eyes on me for a moment, a moment that stretched on in time for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain. Then, she slowly turned her eyes to the others, holding their gaze. Mindy, Peter, and Krystal looked away. Bryon seemed like he wanted to. No one said anything, though I could still feel the charged fury on the air. How could she do that? Was it something they taught in Shrink school- how to keep people quiet with your eyes? Then Rachel spoke again. “It isn’t, though. Your classmates, the media, and even your parents or so called friends may want you to believe that, but it isn’t true.”
The spell was broken with her words. Zach snorted. “So, what, you’re here to teach us all that we could be supermodels or something? No way.”
“Not at all, unless that is what you want to be.” Rachel crossed her legs, bringing her hands together on her lap, elbows pressing the shirt closer to her torso, highlighting her practically non-existent breasts. “On your files it will say that you are here to be rehabilitated. It says that I am here to make you ‘see the light’ and change you all to perfectly dutiful, law-abiding darlings. Granted, that’s not verbatim, but that is the gist of it nonetheless. However, while I do hope that you all won’t break the law after our sessions are complete, what I want, what I will try to achieve most of all, is something that is both simple, and infinitely more complicated.”
“Cut the psycho-babble,” Krystal hissed, her large hands curled into fists.
Rachel had the gall to smile a little. This chick was officially stupid. “Well, as they say, ‘the truth shall set you free’. That is my goal. That you will all be able to find the truth about yourselves.”
“Great,” Peter snarled, his scars standing out even more in his red face. “My parents are paying god knows how much for this crap? For some hippie ideology about being happy with ourselves on the inside. If that’s what the next months are going to be like, I’d rather go to jail.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Go right ahead,” she said, motioning toward the door. “It’s your choice, after all.”
Peter didn’t move. No one did. Finally, he sank back in his seat, glaring at the shrink, his arms shaking, something like fear behind the anger in his eyes. I must have been staring, because he glanced over at me. I scowled at him. He scowled back, rolling his eyes and turning away. I met Zach’s gaze, and he smirked at me. I felt compelled to give him the smile I reserved for guys that wanted to get into my pants, and who I had decided would succeed. I’d seen him around school a few times. He was like me, and here, in this stupid little circle, I could use all the allies and amusing companions that I could get.
Rachel didn’t smirk at her victory. She turned to us, and said, “We have plenty of time to work up to that. I will ask at the beginning of each session, both the private, and the ones you share together, if you can say that you are beautiful yet. As of now, let’s start with something simple. We’ll go around and say something that we like, a favorite band, or food, and so on. Alright?”
I crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat, sliding down until my back curved and my head was level with the back of the chair. “We don’t have to do anything you say,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. Why was this small, average, woman so vastly irritating? Peter was almost right. Dealing with her for the next months was going to be hell.
“True,” she agreed, “you don’t. You don’t have to do anything. But if the courts find that I was unsuccessful, they will send you back to JUVI- some of you to jail by the time this is over.” The smile had left her face, her big green eyes grim.
Byron cast a frantic glance at the rest of us, and scooted his chair forward. “My favorite sport is soccer,” he said quickly, his hands clenching on the sides of his chair. The heavy amount of hair on his face and at his arms made me think of a gorilla in a zoo- trapped, intelligent, staring out at the only people that had the power to set him free.
Rachel smiled. “Thanks for starting us off, Byron. Let’s go to the left from you on, alright?”
Krystal was next to him. She rolled her eyes, slouching in her chair, the perfect example of ‘I couldn’t care less’. She wasn’t fat, but big-boned and tall, lacking as much in the breast area as the shrink. Her dark hair was cut short, and a scar was plainly visible crossing over her collarbones. “Offspring,” she grunted finally. Contrary to how she looked, her voice was light and higher pitched than mine.
I blinked. I liked Offspring too. Shrugging, I inched a little lower in my seat, wondering if I could fall asleep. Small world, I guess. Arella, sitting next to her, pushed her glasses farther up her face, licking her lips. Sweat gleamed on her cheeks and forehead, pimples shining red. I wondered briefly what she could have done to wind up here. She hardly looked the type to try anything drastic. Maybe some other girl had gotten a higher grade than her, and she’d cracked?
Aside from her face, she wore a sleeveless v-neck sweater, her straight black hair flopped forward in a vain attempt to hide her face, arms folded like mine, but more like she was trying to get warm. She was thin enough, and had breasts, so if she wore a paper bag she could almost be a normal human, I supposed. “I like…” She stopped, and bit her lip. “Skiing,” she said finally. “My parents and I go every winter, and,” she stopped, hands actually covering her mouth. She lowered them slowly, looking away.
“I like skiing too, Arella,” Rachel said, her smile different somehow, softer, almost. Her voice, too, was light, like a mom comforting her toddler after they had had a nightmare.
Zach was next. He grinned wolfishly, obviously the grin he used to intimidate others. Rachel didn’t react, just waited patiently. “Knives,” he said with something like relish. “Slicing people’s skin and watching the blood flow-”
I had to hand it to him, he was good at what he did. His words were creepy, and I saw Mindy draw back from him, scooting her chair away. He looked to me, still grinning, and I smiled back. He knew I understood.
“Fascinating,” Rachel commented dryly, looking bored for the first time. “You really ought to become an actor, you know. You are very believeable,” she smiled again. Zach’s eyes flashed and he stood, towering above us, and I felt the desire to draw back as well. I fought it, staying where I was.
Rachel met him stare for stare. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said clearly. “I know very well that you think hurting others brings you joy, but as someone that grew up using a knife on the streets, I know very well that a knife isn’t what you use. You’re more partial to bombs. It’s less personal, you know. There’s more distance between you and the victim. You make them yourself of course, showing a good aptitude for science, I might add. And you do it again and again, never killing anyone, not yet. Why do you think you keep doing it, and that you’re so angry about it all even though you claim to love it? Things we enjoy bring us satisfaction, but there is none for you doing these things, is there? Maybe you just want to get people to hurt like you do, so that they will understand, even though you don’t think you want them to. Maybe there’s another reason. But it’s not because you like hurting them.” She made a note on her clipboard, bending her head. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to get this right.”
Zach was actually shaking. His eyes seemed almost black as they glared at her, hating her, truly, and yet-
I shook myself. What did I know? While Rachel was apparently very brave, she was still wrong about us. She had to be.
Zach sat down in his chair, still glaring. Rachel smiled at him, and something in her face tugged at my heart, not because of pain within it, but because of the attempt at understanding. Like someone holding you and saying, ‘I know, I know. It’s going to be alright, tell me all about it.’
“Mindy?” Rachel questioned, turning a little to the fat girl. Mindy stared at her hands in her lap. Her hair was long and pinned up, her orange shirt definitely not the right color for the redness of her hair. The fat at her arms quivered as she breathed, her double chin shaking. “Going to the movies,” she mumbled, glancing up and then away from Rachel, who smiled encouragingly while Zach snorted, muttering something about Mindy probably breaking one of the seats.
Rachel’s eyes flicked to him, and for the first time she looked angry. Her mouth curled into a heavy frown, and she stared him down. He looked away first.
For the first time, I thought that perhaps there was credence to the saying that not everything was as it seemed. Of course, I should have known that before. My house seemed fine, after all, and my dad especially. And how wrong was that, really? Of course, I was no better. But I didn’t pretend to be better than I was. I showed exactly how slunk down and rotten I was. I didn’t bother to try and hide my ugliness under layers of makeup or fake smiles. I reveled in my putrid essence. The bad things were always easier to believe, anyway.
Peter was next to Mindy. He was slumped in his chair like me, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment I thought he was asleep, but then he shifted a little, and looked up.
I realized stupidly that though most of his features were indistinguishable in his face with all the scars, I could see his eyes more, perhaps because they had so much color that they drew my own eyes. For a moment I forgot about his scars. I had never seen eyes quite like that before, almost violet in color. He held my gaze for a moment, then snorted and looked at Rachel. Something shifted in his face, the scars moving by his chin, and I realized that he was smiling, just a little. My mouth twisted. Looks like Rachel has found herself a friend, I thought acidly, hating her already. No. I didn’t hate her. She just wanted to know too much, expected too much, was too soft that I almost felt like I could lean against her and really sleep again.
“Being alive,” he said.
At this, Rachel’s small-lip smile grew softly, showing her teeth, her head tilted a little to one side, her eyes shining brightly like she would cry. I scowled. Guess whatever had screwed up Peter’s face gave him an appreciation for life or some crap like that. Whatever.
The others were staring at Peter. His response had been unusual, for sure. I guess the movies would call it ‘deep’. And maybe it was, but I sure didn’t know.
I realized one thing, though, looking at him. Maybe it was or wasn’t deep, but I knew for sure that it was true. Not that what the others had said wasn’t true, but they weren’t true like what Peter had said. For a moment his eyes met mine again, and in that moment, instead of being caught up, I felt stupid. He wasn’t looking at me like I was, but looking in his eyes I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet, like I had no idea what anything was about.
I turned my head sharply away. I knew plenty. My dad had made sure of that.
Though I guess knowing and understanding aren’t the same things. My dad had taught me that, too, inadvertently.
It was my turn. What was I supposed to say? My favorite ice cream flavor, my favorite place to smoke, my favorite holiday? A truth like Peter’s? No. All of my truths were ones that hid inside my head, revealed only when it would hurt the most, or not at all, though I supposed that was a truth in and of itself. Even that grated against my blood, twisting in my veins like poison.
“Rollerblading.” I said finally. It was true. I’d always been good at it, and still did it when my friends were too stoned to be company, or my dad was on his usual kick and I had to get out of the house.
Rachel was still smiling. If I hadn’t seen her frown at Zach, I would have wondered if she was capable of an unhappy expression, or if she’d melt like that witch in the Wizard of Oz. “Thank you, all of you. Now, we’ll go in the reverse direction, and this time say something that you think will surprise people about you. So, you can start Hannah.”
I threw her a disgusted look. “I have to go again? No way. I just went.”
Ever patient, she nodded. “You do have to go again. Come on. We still have time.”
It was all too much. Everything. In my mind I saw every look I’d been given in the past week- the judge’s, the audience, my little brother’s- looks of pity and confusion and anger. My father’s- hate and perverse satisfaction. Rachel’s kind smiles and knowing eyes. I couldn’t- wouldn’t, shouldn’t- say anything. It was too much. I was useless and wrong and stupid and ugly I knew, but so what? What did the world have to offer me? I was dead to them, a waste of space and money, proven by the fact that when I stood up for myself at the right moment, I was still struck down.
Of course, no one knew the truth. But if the truth came out, then it would choke me, and I couldn’t escape it.
My arms were shaking. I stared at nothing. “You want shock value?” I whispered, looking up at all of them, letting my manic grin spread across my cheeks. This was the smile I showed when I thought about it, about any of my actions and the pain that had brought them about. “I am in this stupid circle because the jury found me guilty of trying to kill my father. Almost did it too, if my brother hadn’t found us.” I laughed, standing, feeling their eyes and hating it, hating the awe and understanding and fear, wanting just one simple thing I’d never really gotten, except from my brother, but he was so little still.
“I tried to kill my father. I tried to kill him, and I still want to succeed. How’s that for a surprise?” I spat the last word, my anger breaking through. My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t look at Rachel or Zach or Peter or any of the others. I wanted to hide and go away. No one knew the truth. They would never know, because I would keep it buried until it went away.
Without another word, I sprinted for the door, flung it open, and ran, Rachel’s voice calling for me to come back.
I didn’t know where I was going, but location hardly mattered. The truth had risen, and had almost smothered me, but I couldn’t let it. I had to drown it in whatever I could find. Nothing worked all the way, or all the time. My temporary fixes were many and varied. Now it was the running that did it, the pounding of my heart while sweat rolled down my face and somehow from my eyes, though I couldn’t think about that, about anything, or I’d never be able to go on. Because then the truth would be right there in my face, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Rachel said that the truth sets you free. But it can destroy you, too.
