It's already a week in and I'm already despising the fact I'm stuck with these idiots for two months. Rebecca made it her mission to interrogate me for an hour a day. Which is a change, she's actually talking to me and not half assing her job as a mother. My father doesn't have anything to do with my situation, he goes to work, comes home, eats dinner, drinks and goes to bed. And that's only on the good nights.
I lay back on my floor, looking up at the ceiling. I haven't been able to leave the house since the appointment last week. My mom was supposed to be going to get my medication from CVS today, so that would give me a chance to go downstairs and find something to eat. I hated eating in front of people, it made me feel so vulnerable.
Three soft knocks come from my door, I don't respond to them, but Rebecca enters anyway.
"I'm heading to the store for some groceries, then I'm gonna get your new medication. Is there anything you want?" She asked, poking her head around the door to peer at me.
"Nah, I'm fine." I say quietly, sitting up.
She nods a few times before shutting the door and I can hear her make her way out of the house. I stand up and walk over to the window across from my desk and look out to watch her get into her car. As she pulls off into the road, I check my phone. It's 5:30 so dad wouldn't be home by now. I toss my phone on my bed and go downstairs. I slide into the kitchen and pop open the fridge. Drinks, Grapes, oranges, a few vegetables and cheese. I groan and shut the fridge, moving to open the pantry, there was nothing but a pack of salten crackers besides a few lonely containers of rice, instant potatoes and some canned vegetables. I roll my eyes and snatch the last pack of crackers before also pulling a water from the fridge. I then ran back upstairs to my room.
When I close the door behind me, I lock it and jump onto my bed. I grab my phone and unlock it with one hand while the other rips open the pack of crackers.
I lean back into my pillows and turn on a show on Netflix I had been wanting to finish, while I shove a few crackers into my mouth.
Rebecca tried to have me eat dinner and lunch the day before, but I didn't feel like it. And I always sleep through breakfast. Of course, she could put her foot down and force me to eat like she used to, but she doesn't seem to care enough anymore. Besides, I would get sick and throw it up anyway, then that's another trip to the doctors office that she doesn't feel like making.
I think she gave up being a mom to me after her and my dad started getting into arguments while he was drunk. Causing her to lash out on me.
I remember one night, my father came home extra late from work, he was already completely wasted.
When mom saw him, she started scolding him for being unresponsable and he blamed her for putting so much stress on him. Even though, all he did was bring home the money, and mom signed the paper work during bill season.
When he lashed out on my mom, she tried to walk away and he grabbed her wrist, landing a hard smack across her face. She then start apologizing and shit, trying to get him to forgive her for something she didn't even do. The day after, dad went to work and I left my room to go check on my mom, and when I did she screamed at me for almost an hour for bothering her and stressing her out with my questions. So eventually I just stopped checking in on her. And she stopped checking in on me.
But when she found out about my self harm, she started acting like nothing had happened between us and started trying to be a better mom by interrogating me about my feelings. Which didn't help at all.

I look down at the hand that's holding my phone up as watch my show. I pull the sleeve to my hoodie down and gaze down onto the slightly brownish tanish lines that had been there forever it felt like. They weren't gonna go away anytime soon and I felt like throwing up everytime I remember them.
I can't really remember the night I finally pushed myself over the edge and made the first long crooked line across them. But I remember how much blood poured out my wrist, it was so terrifying. I thought I was going to bleed out. It was all over my sink, on my shirt and shorts, it was on the floor. Like a red river pouring out of me.
I always regret marking myself up like this, but when I'm in an episode I can't help but ache for that small time of relief I get during the cut. When the glass would slide across my skin, it would hurt no doubt. But the realization that I could do that, that I still had slight control made me feel better.
I push my sleeve back up and toss the empty cracker paper into my trash can next to my desk before laying down to watch the show again.

A few hours, a loud slam wakes me up and I jump. I gaze up at my door as someone knocks on it harder.
"Come open the door up already. I'm not leaving until you do" I groan as I stand up off my bed and walk towards my door, already know the person on the other side.
When I pulled the door open, a tall boy with black hair and a blue underside smiled at me, the black hoop in his ear shining.
"Finally" Tate said, walking inside and wrapping his arms around me in a hug. I let him hug me for a moment before backing up. I didn't like it too much when others hugged me, but Tate was an exception.
"Soooo, they didn't put you in the loony bin" he jokes, walking over to plop down on my bed. I glare at him with a small smirk.
"Is your eyesight going out? Because this IS the loony bin" I reply, shutting and locking my door again.
He lifts his head to smile at me. "So, when are you coming back to school?" He asked me.
I shrug, climbing on my bed and laying beside him, both of us on our backs, gazing up at the ceiling.
"I dunno. They have me on a new medication, and if it doesn't make me wanna gut someone, the doc said two months" I replied, closing my eyes. Tate hums in response, folding his arms over his chest. I always felt like I could trust Tate, he was like an older brother. He never let me down, whenever my mom and dad argued too much he would come and pick me up.
Tate knew what it was like to have it rough growing up. When we were both pre-teens he moved in with his grandma because his mom got sent to prison for a severe drug charge and he had never met his father, so his grandma was the only person he had growing up. Now he's 18 and living with his girlfriend, his grandma still had them over for dinners and holiday weekends, she always invites me. Which was something that I used to look forward to the most.
Luckily he is old enough to make his on decisions. I wont be able to get out of this place until next year. I just turned 17 on February 12th.
"Hey, Z" Tate says softly, I turn my head over to look at him.
"Are you gonna be okay?" He asked carefully. His eyes scanning me as if trying to see any hint of hesitation or lies. I nod my head, giving him a reassuring smile. Of course, I had no idea how the medication was gonna change me, and to be completely honest. I was deeply terrified.