Chapter 1
Anxiety makes my chest tighten, like a rope squeezing around my body. My steps are slow and uncertain as they hit the ground. When the sole of my shoe hits the ground, a weave of vibrations is sent through my body. My gaze is locked on the white building in front of me. In my mind, I repeat the positive affirmations my therapist recommends, but they aren’t helping. I feel the shaking of my hands begin, I try to take deep controlled breaths but my mind decides to not cooperate. The burning feeling in my chest only worsened.
I get called back to reality as something nudges my leg. When I look down I remember Jody’s presence. He looks up at me with deep eyes and nudges me with his nose again, signaling that I need to calm down. I reach down and pet him, his long brown fur slipping through my fingers. I use my nails to scratch him behind his ears and in return, I get a wide smile. Before I continue to walk to the building I take a few deep breaths. Jody strides close to me as I push the glass door open, revealing a medium-sized room with concrete floor and brick walls. I continue through the next set of doors until I reach a room full of chatter. The sight in front of me makes my anxiety rise again. Way more people than I expected to stand in the room in different clusters, talking to each other. Everybody is occupied with talking or listening, everybody seems to know each other.
I feel like hiding, sinking under the face of the earth where nobody can reach me. The expression on my face remains calm while my insides are going haywire. I begin to nervously scratch the back of her hand, digging my nail into my skin. But Jody quickly makes me stop, digging his nose between my hands, preventing me from scratching my dry skin. The room full of people makes me feel as if I don’t belong here.
I begin to bite the inside of my cheek. My instinct tells me to run far, far away but I take a shaky breath and reach down to touch Jody for comfort when a voice makes me jump.
“Never seen you here before. You new?” A strong British voice asks with a cheerful tone. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!” She quickly apologizes as she sees that she scared me. I turn to the source of the voice to see a tidy-looking brunette. Her brown eyes stare kindly at me. Behind the British girl, a blonde boy stands, his body language indicating that he’s uncomfortable, shying away behind the confrontational girl. He’s not slouching or refusing to look at me, but he stands behind the brunette like she’s a shield
“Yeah, ehm, today’s my first time,” I answer and then I go back to biting my cheek, tearing away small pieces of skin. My voice sounds weak, the tone light and frail. I internally curse at myself for sounding so wobbly.
“Oh, how exciting! Is that your service dog?” The girl asks, looking down at Jody, giving him a big smile. The curly-haired boy behind her seems to just then notice the dog sitting close to me. I hold his leach tightly in my hand to remind me that he’s with me.
“Ehm. Yeah.” I look at the brunette with a bit of annoyance, Jody’s obviously a service dog, he’s wearing a vest with the words “Service animal” in a clear letter printed on the side. I don’t really like the girl's character, so cheery and curious, all up in my business. I am on the other hand grateful that she didn’t try to pet Jody, everybody always seems to do that. Of course, they don’t know that you aren’t supposed to pet a service animal but it is still annoying.
“What’s your name?” She asks, looking up from the dog to make eye contact with me but as our eyes meet, both of us look away as if the eye contact is poison.
“Skye. Yours?” I answer shortly, not very fond of talking. New people make me uncomfortable, you can’t decide what their impression of you is, maybe they hate you and you don’t know it. Meeting new people just makes me overthink everything I do—how I breathe, how I talk, how I move.
“Oh, My name’s Jemma Simmons, everybody calls me Simmons. And the shy boy here is Fitz. People sometimes call us FitzSimmons because we're like a team, we’re always with each other. What’s his name?” She answers, making the answer unnecessarily long before she looks down at the dog again.
“Jody,” I say stiffly and before Jemma could react, the sound of a loud clap reaches them and an older man in a graphic t-shirt starts talking. Hi stands confidently in the middle of the room.
“Okay, everybody, let’s sit down on the chairs.” He gestures to the circle of chairs in the middle of the room. A clearly fake smile emerges upon his lips as he waits for everybody to take a seat.
I take a seat next to Simmons, I might dislike the girl but I dislike it more to seem like I’m alone. People who look sad and lonely attract attention. I signal for Jody to lay under the chair and he does, his head sticking out between my feet. I see the looks Jody gets from the other kids, some of them whisper to their friend and then point at the dog, making the friend let out a sound from the cuteness. I suddenly get really self-conscious, a hundred different thoughts fill my head. I remind myself that everything is fine and then I scratch Jody behind his ear, the comfort of his fur making me feel a little better. Everyone switches their focus as the middle-aged man starts to talk again. The deep tone of his voice echoes against the hard walls in the cold room.
”Okay, guys, let’s get started. And remember, this is a safe space. What is said here stays between these four walls.” His pale hands move in exaggerating gestures as he speaks. He looked around at the group for a second before continuing. “So let's go around and say our name and, if you don’t mind, you can tell us why you’re here at this mental health support group!” He puts on a big smile as he clasps his hands together. “I’ll start. My name’s Seb, I’m here because I am the leader of this support group. And, I have bipolar disorder. Now, why don’t you, Meg, continue?” He gestures to a dark-skinned girl five seats away from me. She smiles awkwardly before speaking.
Meg’s answer doesn’t register in my mind, I’m too occupied with figuring out what to say when it’s my turn. Should I actually tell them about my problems? Am I really comfortable telling everyone about my mental health? What am I supposed to say? My gaze is fixed on the floor when the voice of the guy next to me causes me to snap my head in his direction.
“Yeah, my name’s Nick, I come here because it helps me cope with my depression.” When he finishes his sentence all eyes land on me or Jody. My heartbeat increase in pace as I realized that I have to speak.
I swallow hard and then breathe in. “My name is Skye. I came here because my foster mom thought it might help. Uhm, I, ehm,” In a panic, I start to fidget with my hair tie. “I have anxiety.” I then say quickly, trying to get it over with. I earn a small smile from Simmons. I choose not to mention the depression I battle with from time to time. People don’t need to know how fucked up I actually am.
The focus quickly changes from Me to Simmons, who sits beside me. A deep sigh escapes my lips. Simmons’s light tone begins to fill the room as she says her name. “My mom thought it would be good for me and I like being here so I continued going! And I have Autism and OCD.” A vague smile is glued to her lips as she presents herself. Once again the people in the room switch to look at the next person.
“My name is Fitz, Jemma told me about this place. I have PTSD and thought it would be a good idea to hear about people with similar struggles.” He says, his voice soft. To my surprise, the words that come out of his mouth have a strong Scottish accent.
***
After the last person presents himself, the group leader speaks up again. “Now, does anyone have anything they like to share? Remember that anything that is said here, stays here. And we are not allowed to judge anyone, we are all different.” He pulls his hand through his shiny brown hair and his green eyes look around the circle, for a moment the room is quiet, everybody waiting for someone to speak up. The quiet makes me nervous, it feels like everyone can hear the thoughts running through my head, they’re so loud. They fill my mind to the brim with noise that never quiets down. But then someone speaks up, telling a story from their life.
The group ends and I’m about to wank out of there when the girly voice next to me starts talking. “So, Skye, where do you go to school?” I turn around to look at Simmons, Fitz standing next to her like her shadow.
“Reverton,” I answer shortly, desperate to get going. I see the moment Simmons processes my answers, her face lights up and a smile grows on her lips.
“Us too! How come we’ve never seen each other?” Simmons questions, her voice a bit too loud
.
“Uh, I don’t know. People don’t really notice me I like to be by myself.” My patience is starting to run out. Why is Simmons asking so many questions?
The group was fine, more than fine, but I don’t want to stay longer than I actually have. Besides, Coulson and May might start to worry about where I am, or they’ll think I was doing something else instead of the group and they’ll get mad, or maybe I’ll miss dinner. The possible consequences of this conversation are endless.
“Yeah, maybe we just haven't noticed each other. We don’t really have many friends either. If you’d like to, maybe we could sit together in the cafeteria sometime!” Simmons exclaims. “Wait, let me give you my number so we can keep in contact.” She says and pulls out a small notebook from her pocket. I think it’s weird that she just has a notebook in her pocket, but I decide not to comment on it and instead, I just watch as Simmons writes down a number on the paper.
“Here. What grade are you in, by the way?” Simmons reaches out to give me the paper, her eyes smiling as I take it.
“Thanks, I’m a sophomore. I think I need to go, but maybe we'll see each other in school.” I say, mostly to be kind but also because Simmons actually seems a bit nice. Sure, the girl might be the slightest bit annoying, but she meant well. I can see herself talking to them again, maybe it was just the stress of the group that made Simmons so irritating at first.
“I sure hope so! Bye Skye.”