the date is november 12th, 2015. today's the day i pack my bags and go into eastbridge - i mean - northbridge rehabilitation center.
i'm already finished packing my suitcase. mom says i need more than just flannels and black jeans and band posters. so, of course i put the necessities in - toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, boots, etc.
but still, i think they'll have most of the items i need when i get there.
i still don't know what to think of the whole depression-rehab ordeal, and i don't even think mom does either. she still seems a bit shaken after the cutting incident. i always catch her looking at my scars.
"do you have everything?" mom asks as we stand in the parking lot in front of northbridge rehabilitation facility.
"yes, mom, it's not like all i have are sweaters in here," i tap my luggage.
"honestly, unity, i hope 70% of your items aren't a bunch of band merch."
it's not a lie - not 70%. more like 78%. yeah, 78%.
she hands me a small slip of paper with the numbers '279', my room number.
"remember, go up to the lady at the desk-"
i cut her off, "i'm not eight, mom. i know it's called a secretary."
"right," she sighs. "be safe, okay?"
we hug for a while, and i realize how much i'll miss her. as she drives off, i take a deep breath. breathe, unity. breathe.
the main doors in northbridge are automatic, and my bag accidentally gets stuck between them.
"what a klutz," i hear a group of girls say.
i manage to ignore them, and keep walking. the lady at the desk- i mean, secretary - has an apple pc in front of her, and grins warmly when she sees me. i return a small smile and stop my suitcase at her desk.
"hi, I'm unity ashlund raynor? a new patient here."
"of course. i've never seen you here before," she says.
she clicks the keyboard as she types.
"so, unity ashlund raynor," she sighs. "it says you're a senior in high school, you're 18, and your therapist says you're on prozac?"
i nod, "that's correct."
"great," she hands me a pair of keys. "those are your dorm keys. room 297 is on floor 3."
"thank you," i say, tightly gripping the keys in my hand.
"i'll let a counselor know you're here, and/or they'll pick a patient to give you the tour."
i tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.
"welcome to northbridge, unity."
about 20 minutes later as i'm still packing, the doorknob jiggles and in comes a curly-haired boy with a giant smile on his face. he isn't wearing his glasses and it takes me a second to realize that it's michael's friend, ashton.
he tilts his head. "oh hey, it's you. what are you doing here?"
"i'm uh- a patient, actually. i just checked in."
ashton blinks and nods.
"okay, well I'm here to give you a tour of the place. i hope you enjoy irwin airlines," he jokes.
as we're getting to the end of the tour, we stop at a room not too far from mine.
"and this - well, this is my room."
ashton opens the door and there on the bed is where i see him.
michael clifford is in northbridge rehabilitation.
hi friends, sorry it took so long to update. i was very busy this week!