Why the interrogation? Anita didn't like these questions. How was she feeling today? What were her thought of school. About her friends. Her priorities in life. When was the last time she felt like killing herself? And they thought they might know her from all these quizzes. She thought not.
What sort of hospital had her mother taken her too? There were other girls here. Lot worse off than her. Some wouldn't eat. Some looked really dead. Some so hostile that Anita didn't dare want to even look at them. What sort of hell had they brought her too? How could Sebastian have done it? Call her mother so quickly. As if it were an emergency. It wasn't an emergency. She was just fine. Fine without this. The probing. The nagging. The lists. Shit. She was sick of it, and it had only been 4 hours. 4 hours of this nonsense.
"When can I go home?" She wanted to know.
"We'll see how it goes," the therapist told her.
"How's it going?" Anita scowled. She was in some gown. Not even undies. She wasn't ill.
"You need to be honest with us, Anita." The blond woman told her.
"But I am." Anita looked at her puzzled.
"Are you?" Evidently she didn't agree with her.
"What do you want from me?" Anita felt like a lost little girl wanting to go home, but where was home, really?
"How do you feel?"
"I don't belong here," she cried.
"We only want to help you." She gave Anita a pill then. As if it might be special. Anita held it under her tongue for the longest time before she swallowed it.
its what we do
16 hours ago