| LUKE HEMMINGS |
A lot of things suck, like a lot.
Being dumped by the love of your life, finding out your dog just died, breaking your arm...Yeah you fucking get it, but you know what else fucking sucks? Sitting in a stuffy room full of freaks and psychos because you're parents think there's something wrong with you. Yeah, that fucking sucks.
It's like you make one fucking mistake and your god damn parents think it's the end of the world. Quite frankly, I couldn't give one shit if it were anyways. My parents think I've "changed" that I've become a "different person", but not in a good way. I lash out on one fucking person and I get sent here, to this stupid mediocre joke called group therapy.
The big eyed man with white hair looked at the sad excuse of people with a soft smile and I thought I was going to puke. He was a fat man with thick glasses, and a sickeningly sweet smile that made me want to punch it off his chubby round face. The chair and clothes he were in looked too small for him and I am honestly surprised his fat ass didn't break anything.
Dr. Jeffery looked up at me with an expecting look, "How about you introduce yourself, young man."
I scoffed at the fat man and rolled my eyes, "Luke Hemmings."
He nodded in approval before speaking again, "And why are you here with the group today, Mr.Hemmings?"
A twisted smirk made it's way to my face. Hell, I'd tell him if I fucking knew the answer to that. I don't know why the fuck I was here.
"Because my parents are fucking idiots and think there is something wrong with me." I shrugged, earning a gasp from the rounded-man and a scowl.
"Language Mr.Hemmings, I will not tolerate that kind of behavior in my session." He said in a warning tone. I almost wanted to laugh at his pathetic attempt to intimidate me when really, he looked nothing more than a harmless knock-off of Santa Claus.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, a glare directed towards him as he continued to talk. I don't know which was worse --The fact that I was here, or the fact that he wouldn't shut the hell up about this "it gets better" bullshit. Right now, I honestly wanted nothing more than to smack the annoying therapist in his fucking face.
The feeling of wanting to smack him went on until the end of the session, and I was more than happy when it was over so I could get the fuck out of there. Of course when I was leaving, fucking Santa Claus just had to ask me to stay back for a few. I rolled my eyes and turned so I was facing him, and he seemed all but please with me.
As if I really care though.
"I don't know what you're trying to pull here Mr.Hemmings, but it needs to stop and it needs to stop right now." He spat, some of his spit landing on my cheek.
I wiped it off with a disgusted look and glared over at him. "I don't need to be here and I sure as hell don't need any fucking help." I hissed back. "Don't expect me next week."
He laughed. The fucking idiot laughed at me and it only made me angrier.
"See you next week." He smiled so genuinely and kind, it made me want to break the glasses on his face.
He was delusional if he thought for a mere fucking second that I would come to this stupid thing ever again. I don't need it, I don't need help since there isn't even shit wrong with me in the first place. This entire thing was bullshit, I almost wanted to laugh at both my parents and the stupid shrink for thinking I needed help. I don't need any god damn help.
I didn't bother giving the stupid building a single glance before I walked out the automatic doors. For a shitty building with stuffy rooms and horrible employers, they sure did have nice doors...
Shut up Luke, they're doors.
It got colder since the last time I was outside, but I guess a lot can change in thirty minutes when you're stuck in a room wasting your time. I kicked a few pebbles as I walked to the parking garage where my dad told me to meet him, although I didn't even get why the hell he had to drive and pick me up in the first place.
For fucks sake, I'm eighteen years old and I am perfectly capable of getting myself from place to place. Although I had a small theory that it might be due to the fact that he and I both know I would sure as hell not show up to this pathetic session if I had driven myself there. The though itself makes me chuckle, as if I would willingly go to that place.
My feet managed to walk all the way to the parking garage without giving out, since it was a long fucking walk, and I saw my dad sitting in his black Toyota Camry. He looked up for a brief moment and then went back to whatever he was doing.
Douche didn't wave or anything. Thanks dad.
I got into the passenger of my dad's car and made sure to slam the door behind me. He gave me a warning look, but I didn't care. I was pissed at him, and I had every damn right to be.
"How was the session, son?" He said in an eerily calm tone and put the car into drive, driving out of the garage and onto the empty road.
"Fucking stupid." I rolled my eyes, letting out a scoff.
"Watch your mouth!"
I rolled my eyes, "It's stupid!" I argued, "Why the hell am I going when there is nothing wrong with me! I am perfectly fine and don't need this bullshit because you and mom think I'm depressed or something. I'm not a freak dad, I'm not a suicidal emo."
"Luke!" He gasped. "You know very well that your mother and I don't think that of you. We are just worried, and y-you've been acting strangely these last few weeks since the..... incident."
I looked at him with so much anger, I thought I might just explode in the seat. How dare he say anything about, he doesn't know shit. He can't assume how I feel because of that, who the fuck does he think he is.
"How about you just, just, shut the fuck up and stop talking to me." I growled.
He didn't say anything after that, which was good on his behalf because I knew I would do something if he said anything else about something that's not his damn business. I don't care if he's my dad, he sure as hell didn't act like one until after it happened.
I was not going to fall for his stupid fatherly act, because I know he doesn't give a shit.
And for some reason, I feel like he knows that too.
The tension in the car was practically choking me so I was more than glad to get out of there as soon as he drove up to the drive way. I didn't even bother waiting for him to fully stop the car before I got out of the car, I couldn't fucking stand it in that car anymore.
"Luke, Andrew? Is that you?"
I rolled my eyes. Who the fuck else would it be?
"Yes mom," I scoffed.
"Oh honey!" She practically ran over to me and kissed both of my cheeks, "How was your session? Did it go okay?"
"It was pointless and pathetic, I don't need to go to the stupid sessions." I huffed.
"Luke, you have something wrong with you," She smiled at me with that stupid sympathetic smile I was tired of seeing, "and you won't let us help you, so professional help is the thing you need most."
I had enough of everyone. I swear to god, this is the last damn straw.
"I don't need any fucking help!" I said, and by this time I was practically yelling. "I am not depressed or whatever the fuck you think I am, and I sure as hell don't need that pathetic excuse of a shrink to fucking try to tell me otherwise."
She looked at me with tears in her eyes, almost making me feel bad. Almost.
I turned my back to her and walked up to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I don't need her shit, or my dad's shit, or anyone's shit for that matter. I'm not fucking depressed, and there's fucking nothing wrong with me.
I am fine, perfectly fucking fine.
this ended weird but yeah, here's the first chapter!!!!
i'll try to keep a/n to a minimal bc i know that they can get annoying sometimes /-:
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