"Oh crap," I muttered through clenched teeth. It felt like the bandaid was ripping off my skin while all the while I was telling myself to shut up and bite the bullet. I stood back and studied my forehead once more just to make sure what I saw was actuallity. An ugly scab had formed over the cut and it shot through my forehead as clear as day. I was hoping that it would have healed by the day the Phillips were due home but it was a foolish thing to wish for, considering anything I had ever prayed for in my life never came true. I just always figured that I wasn't alive to be pleased by God nor anyone else. My eye was looking better but I still had a very large bruise on the one side of my face. Five days of healing apparently didn't do much good.
"Huu-hoo! We're home! Sidney dear!" Mrs. Phillips called up the stairs. I quickly sprinted to my bedroom door and locked it. I saw the handle try to turn a few times,"Sidney? Open up." "No, I'm..uhh...I'm changing," I told her and made noises in my closet. "Oh come now, I don't believe that. Have you got a boy in there?" she began to make false accusations. "No, I haven't got a boy in here. I'm changing!" I yelled. "Honey! Come here, get the key and open her door," Mrs. Phillips ordered her husband. He did as he was told and my door swung open. But to their amazment, there I was- fully clothed. Or rather: there I was- fully damaged. "What happened?" she exclaimed and rushed to my side as if I were a crying infant. Mrs. Phillips took my chin in her hands to examine me. "Nothing, I'm fine," I said and pushed her away. "Who did this to you? Tell us, Sidney," Mr. Phillips moved in closer from where he had stood in my doorway. I looked to either one of them. So eager to help and wanting to comfort and protect me. I didn't want their pity nor did I want their compassion.
(...one week later...)
"Now Sidney, can you tell me what you see here?"
I didn't answer him. "Please, don't be difficult. This session is supposed to go somewhere. Your parents are paying good money for me to help you," he told me. "They're not my parents....I'm not crazy- I don't belong here," I said and stood up. "Please sit down, Sidney," he tried to prevent me from leaving the room. His only response was the slam of his office door as I left. I walked out of the building and onto the street. After finding the bus stop, I lit myself a cigarette and leaned against a pole. The Phillips had been sending me here for the past week, positive that I was mentally imbalanced or unstable or something of that nature. Since I never spoke very often in that place, I had plenty of time to decide that the stereotype of most physcologists was true. They were even more screwed up than the people they were trying to 'cure'. The afternoon heat seemed to compress itself tighter into the city as the day wore on. I put my hand over my eyes to sheild them from the blinding sun. The bus roared down the street, a cloud of smoke spewing out into the air flowed behind it. I made my own cloud of smoke and flicked my cigarette to ground as I stepped onto the bus.
"Good old Hawthorne Drive," I mumbled to myself as I walked home. I took out a pack of cigarettes and lit my 7th one that afternoon; I had been counting, thinking that I'd soon be up to a pack a day. I cut through a wall of bushes that towered high above my head and entered my backyard. The lush green grass that consumed the yard was an unfamiliar sight for this time of the summer. This stupid thought was all that ran through my mind as I began walking up the walkway to the front door. When I bothered to look up, I saw Taylor on the stone steps in front of me. I stopped and he stood and approached me. He took the cigarette from my mouth and threw it to the ground. I would have been upset if his kiss hand't prevented me from complaining.
[Chapter Ten]