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Chapter 13:

It was weird waking up in someone else's bed this morning. Comforting, but weird. He wasn't family, and I wasn't in my home. I tossed around. It's a habit of mine. It took a while to get used to my cousins' place when I stayed over on weekends. At least he smelled nice. His cologne wasn't overpowering. It was a quiet ride; I stared out the window, peeking over to him as he drove tensely. When he dropped me off, I called Penny to see if she was in. She didn't pick up. I knocked twice. The door opened slowly, and she smiled tiredly. Thank God, I didn't have to wait in the hallway. Penny's hair was scattered all over her head. She was in her same outfit from last night and wearing sunglasses when I entered.

"Morning," I said in a low tone, shutting the door behind me.

She cleared her throat, "morning." Her voice was gruff. She took a sip from her cup on the nightstand.

"You okay?" I asked with concern after the almost raid. Her eyes were hooded. She rubbed her face and groaned.

"Yeah, I barely remember anything after the party. I woke up at Issac's, he told me everything. He texted you last night while I was passed out. I just got in before you knocked."

"Oh," I extended the word in understanding, not surprised that she didn't remember much. I sat on my bed, criss crossing my legs over.

"Where'd you head off to?" She asked, taking off her shoes, threw them in the corner, removing the sunglasses. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes with her palms.

"I stayed over a friend's place." Well, could I call him a friend? He was more of an acquaintance. Or a classmate. Companion?

"Who?"

"This guy from the party."

"Ooo. was he cute?"

"Yeah, I guess." I answered dismissively. Damien was being nice last night, sharing a bed to sleep. I didn't even know what was going to happen. All I knew was that I needed to keep my distance while we slept. His muscled body and strong jawline was a distraction enough. I was surprised I got any sleep. Good sleep, even.

"Is he someone I know?" She wondered.

"The racer that won."

"Details, please." Her fingers gesture for more info.

"Damien. Black hair, blue eyes. Sharp jawline." I almost drifted off. The way he concentrated on the road he would have this icy stare. I didn't want to get caught staring, I had to look the other way. I felt like a stalker. Before he slept, I peeked at his defined abs. I must have been one.

"Did you have fun?" She quirked her eyebrows suggestively.

"No way." I giggled nervously, adjusting my shirt. No way. He said he wasn't in the mood, anyway. Not that I wanted to in the first place.

"You don't like him?"

"I do. He's a classmate, though. We just met; he was being friendly."

Her eyes squinted, lines on her forehead formed in thought but she shook her head, "That's what college is for. Meeting new people, friendly and hot. Hopefully consensual. It's up to you, anyway. You don't have to do anything." She headed to her bed and fell back first; she placed the back of her hand on her forehead. "My head is killing me. I'm never drinking again," she groaned again.

"You want some tea? I have chamomile, ginger, green, black," I asked. Most were for me, the tea I brought from home.

"I hate ginger. Green tea won't be so great digestively. Give me a chamomile," she answered. I headed to the closet, grabbing my shower caddy, clothes and tea jar. I pulled out a chamomile tea packet. She shook her Tylenol bottle, taking two of them and popped it in her mouth. She took it from my hand and smiled. "Thanks." She laid on her back.

"Feel better," I told her, kissing her head before leaving for a shower.

***

Monday

I collected my things and placed them inside my backpack after English ended. Someone tapped me on my shoulder, he asked if he could copy the last bit of the lecture since he didn't copy it on time. I agreed, pulled out my notebook and handed it to him. I stood patiently as he copied them, checking the time above the door. I still had more before therapy. He handed me back my notebook, "thank you," he smiled and stood from the desk.

"You're welcome." Placing it back in my bag, I zipped it close and exited the classroom.

"Olivia!" The familiar voice of Justin screamed behind me. I grinned at his presence as he ran toward me. I waved. He stopped his tracks in front of me, punched my arm slightly.

"Where have you been?" he wondered.

"Around, haven't seen you."

"I was kinda hung over from the party Saturday night."

"You were there?" I frowned. How did I miss him?

"Yeah," he laughed.

"I didn't see you."

"Same. Well, since we missed the opportunity to hang, you want to get a hot beverage?"

"Uh," I hesitated. I glanced at my phone screen. I had thirty minutes until Therapy. Justin didn't know I was going there, and he didn't have to know now. I was keeping it to myself for now until there was some type of progress. Besides, I wanted to hang out with Justin.

"I don't want to keep you late if you're for class," he stated with hopeful eyes.

"I still have time. Let's go." Linking my elbow with his, we walked to the Stamp Student Union.

Catching up with Justin over hot chocolate and his black coffee felt like old times in high school. We still had fun conversing about random subjects. He was still the same boy that had an anime obsession, his eyes lit up as he spoke about the new episodes of the new installment of Dragon Ball Super. I preferred the older episodes of Dragon Ball Z, he demanded I watch this new one because it's lit. His words. I had to go, I was almost late, I informed him that I was going. He said he was gonna be here, he had to study soon. When I arrived, there were people seated. Ms. Donavon wasn't here yet. I shut the door behind me and stepped in.

"Hi," I said as loud so everyone could hear. They all turned to wave at me. I sat in a chair close to Ms. Donavan's desk. She came in with bags and her purse on her shoulder. She said hi to us all before getting settled in herself. As the rest came in, I spotted Hank behind someone, his eyes landed on me and waved, I waved back before he sat next to me. The last person coming in was Damien. He shook his head since there were no other seats except for the one next to me. I smiled tightly at him. He nodded his head, sitting on the chair. I rubbed my hands together, squeezing it into a fist. At least it wasn't awkward.

"Is everyone here?" Ms. Donavon asked, looking around us. I moved my head from side to side, me and him made quick eye contact before I looked away and faked a cough. Should we be so close? It's not a big deal. We were closer before.

"Good, now I want to try to start off with a deep breathing exercise." She stood on her feet, "everyone, let's stand and hold hands." We all got up one by one, I stood up slowly and pulled the hem of my shirt down. I held Hank's hand to my left. It was warm. My right palm was waiting for Damien to take mine. I looked at him, he was staring at it like it had germs. He took a hold of it. Cupping our palms, his hand was rough, cold and limp. He squeezed it for a hold, I ignored the chills running through my skin.

"It will only be for thirty seconds, let's all take in a deep breath," she instructed. This was a great idea, oxygen for the brain and calms the heart. I took in a deep one for the air to fill my lungs, I heard the clock tick. I counted my own thirty seconds internally until it was over. His hand squeezed mine again, I peeked at him briefly, he clenched his jaw, he closed his eyes tightly.

Ms. Donavan sounded out a long sigh. "Lovely. Everyone feel good?" She asked. We all grunted in agreement. It was nice. Damien dropped my hand and sat back down. I did too, laying them on my knees.

"Good. Now. It's gonna get kind of deep for today about trauma and triggers, if you don't want to share you don't have to. You can decline or say it has crossed a line." She crossed her leg over the other and looked around at everyone in the room. I pulled my sleeves farther down, I thought I stretched the fabric. I was feeling shy to share anything.

"I'm a binge eater," Hank began. He moved his hair from his forehead and let out a shaky sigh. "I gained a lot of weight two years ago. I think I was over 40 pounds at 10 years old. I remembered the comments my mom used to make to shady comments and enjoyed calling me her little butterball. It didn't help in school when I was laughed at in gym because my pants split in two and earned the name piglet. I used to look in the mirror, thinking I was this huge, ugly, blob.

So, I startedworking out, I wanted to look like the guys on TV, muscular. Fit. To be able to take off my shirt with confidence. I didn't want to miss a day of working out, I would feel like I failed my body if I didn't. I enjoyed looking in the mirror again. I enjoyed being confident. Just one day, I could feel good. I saw an old picture of myself from a Facebook memory, an ex of mine said I looked like a cute little pig. It set me off. I didn't eat for an entire day. No water. I worked out until I couldn't take it anymore, until I couldn't see the pudge on my gut. My mom found me passed out on the floor. I was fine, thankfully, but the consequences of low blood sugar sucked. I can't even go an hour without eating." I looked at Hank with emphatic eyes, I felt them fill up. I gave him a side hug, he wrapped one of his arms around him and patted my shoulder. I knew it wasn't much, it was all I could give.

"Hank, it's good that you could open up to us. Bless you." Ms. Donavon offered a small smile. He nodded. "Does anyone else want to share?" she asked the rest of us. "Damien? Would you like to go next?"

"Pass," he answered in a gruff tone. I frowned and shook my head. Of course, he would be like that. He was sweet that night. Seemingly flirty. When we slept on our respective sides, he gave me my space. Maybe he had the right idea, Ms. Donavan didn't press him to speak. She moved on to someone else. A girl name Jessica decided to share, speaking of a terrible thing that happened to her when she confessed her feelings to a girl, she really liked last year. The way she rejected her was harsh, screaming out 'hell no!'

"She could have just said no, you know." I nodded in agreement. No one should invalidate someone else's feelings; a gentle rejection could have been fine.

Ms. Donavan shared the same sentiment with her. "Olivia, what about you?" I felt put on the spot, I picked at my nail beds, gulped and squared my shoulders to sit up straight.

"I haven't been honest with my parents. I had a panic attack the first time I moved on campus. When they called me in the first week, I told them I was fine, I was doing great when I wasn't. I wanted to tell them so much that I was scared, scared of being away from them. From home. I didn't want to seem like I was a baby. Like I couldn't handle it. I didn't want them to worry about me like they did before. I told them I can do this, be here, now it seems harder to sleep." My nervous system was high. I was fine when I was home, I had my parents to protect me. Now I was alone, to become an adult. The month was ending, this weekend was the start of my regular weekend visits back home. I missed them.

"The most important thing is to recognize our flaws. This is why we are all here, to talk it out and figure ou what we can do to get better. Together." Ms. Donavon said in a soft voice. "What we can do now is control how we react to our triggers." For the rest of the hour, most of us went around to share their story of what they were feeling, why they were here. A boy named Cameron shared his story of being bullied, how he had to hide from his old friends when they found out he was on a scholarship in his private school. It tempted him to cut himself before his aunt caught and had to have him committed. I hid my face from crying.

"This was amazing today. Thank you all and remember, you are not your past mistakes."

She stood up with a wide smile. "Since not all of us shared today, I do have an explanation for the bags I brought." Ms. Donavon stood up and went behind her desk. She pulled out a bunch of colorful composition journals. "You can be able to write down your thoughts and feelings. No one has to read them. Not even me.

Whenever you are ready, it's up to you to share. Everything is gradual. It's for you and only you. If you want, there will be a one on one with me if you want to share your thoughts." She stacked them up and held them out for each of us to take. I took the blue and white one when she came over to me. She also said she has office hours posted on the website; we could email her for one on one time.

When she dismissed us, Damien jumped from his seat to leave. I stood slowly, patting my pants down. I felt a pull from my elbow, I looked back to Hank behind me. "I was wondering if you wanted to exchange numbers," he said, "we can text each other sometime."

"Really? Me?" I pointed to myself.

"Yeah, you don't want to?"

"No, I do! I'm surprised that you asked me first."

"Working my way around to ask everyone."

"Oh. Well, sure," I responded. We both switched phones, I typed my number in his phone as he typed his in mine. "Here." I handed it back when I was done. Hank seemed like a great person to talk to and hang out with. We both loved Stranger Things, hopefully we had anything else in common.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. He had a sweet smile and dimples.

"No problem." I grinned. We both left the room; I opened the door for us as we walked outside.

"What class do you have next?" I wondered.

"I'm going back to my dorm," he answered.

"Oh okay. Me too. Might write in my journal tonight."

"Same."

"I'll see ya. Or text you," I laughed. He laughed and shook his head.

"Bye." I waved and walked the other direction. I turned around, moving my mouth to the side, and tucked my hands in my pockets. I heard the wheels of cars squealing off the road, I recognized Damien's car as he drove in speed. Where is he going in a hurry? I had to pack my weekend bag anyway.