Page 96 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

“Bullshit!” I huff. This game isn’t complicated. It isn’t like chess, so I have no clue why I can’t win!

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as I lift one of my remaining pieces.

“Patrick, I swear to god,” I grumble and move to a different spot.

He chuckles and swipes my piece. “You suck at this.”

“Your face sucks at this,” I retort and scratch my chest.

In two more moves, he wins, and I’m ready to flip the table. I’ve never been overly competitive, but this kid makes me want to destroy him. He’s so smug, too, grinning and resetting the board. He’s undefeated, and it’s pissing me off. I take a break, sit in one of the armchairs, and watch reruns ofFriends.I hate this show, but they don’t let you watch anything good here—lighthearted, stupid shows to help keep a positive,healthyoutlook on life.

I should’ve chosen outpatient care.

It’s difficult to focus on sobriety when a world of other things clogs my head. They’ve got me on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds because that was a pretty clean-cut diagnosis once I got in with the shrink.

Apparently, I also have PTSD.

Wonderful.

Huffing and puffing becausefuckPatrick, I pick at the armrest, wondering what Phoenix is doing. He better appreciate this. Seriously.

I don’t think he realizes just how hard this is—how hard it is to open up to strangers. Well, I guess Dr. Langley isn’t too hard. He really does have a gift—definitely a good career choice. I will actually see him for my daily check-in soon. It’s a wonder he isn’t asking someone else to take me on instead because almost every session revolves around Phoenix. Since I can’t talk to him myself, I talk about him. But Dr. Langley listens and then asks me these sneaky questions that lead to my childhood and Tracy.

Part of me wants to tell him about her house. How I got high as fuck and set it on fire. But I don’t want to be in jail. Don’t want that shit on my record. So, I keep that part a secret. The craziest part is that I finally understand why my head works the way it does. Having suffered from severe neglect, abuse, and grooming, no wonder I can’t ever get my thoughts to shut up.

I guess it’s a pretty common reason why people turn to drugs.

In group, we all have to say this stupid mantra at the end.I am in control of my own choices, and I am making better ones than I was yesterday.I’ve mumbled it a few times but do not believe it yet. But it’s only been one month. I wish I could have my phone. I wish I could have passed the stupid test that says I’m ready for it. Maybe if I could talk to Phoenix, I’d feel like what I’m doing is helping…working.

Brenda said I could try for my phone next month. This means I have to be good, participate in all the activities, and not cause problems, which is fine, I suppose.

I guess I can do better. And since I won’t have anything else to distract me, I can hone in on my checker skills and beat Patrick.

Baby steps. I got this.

Idon’t got this.

Nope.

Fuck no.

“It’s alright, Elijah,” Dr. Langely says gently while I sob into some tissues. “The cravings will be there for a while.”

“It’s not a craving,” I growl, stuck on the sofa across from him. It’s ridiculously cozy and slurps your whole body into it like jello. “It’s aneed. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to eat. I’m over this.Over it.” I slash my hand through the air.

“What are you over?”

“Being here!” I yell. “Thirty-three days of this bullshit, and I still hurt everywhere! When does it get better? The meds you make me take don’t help.”

He jots something down, crossing his leg. “We can adjust your medication in two weeks. It takes time for the brain chemistry to respond to them.”

“Bullshit,” I growl. “Mymedicine worksinstantly.”

“What did we say?”

I glare at him, wanting to stab that pen through his orbital socket. He waits for me to answer him, but I don’t want to do it. I hate this. Hate it all.

“Elijah.”

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