Page 26 of Sinful Desires

Without a word, I moved forward and dropped into the seat in front of her, tugging my bag off as I did, and placing it on the floor beside my feet.

“Hello,” she said lightly. “How are you?” Her eyes were gentle as she stared at me intensely, making me shift uncomfortably.

Scoffing, I slumped back in my seat, letting my disinterest show. “We can skip the formalities,” I insisted, wanting to get straight to the point.

She sighed but nodded. “Very well.” Her gaze dropped to the stack of papers lying in front of her. “My name is Mrs. Bell. My husband is the basketball coach here at Redwood Academy.” She shot me a tight smile like that was meant to relax me more.

“Why am I here?”

“Mental health is a huge issue. One that must be taken seriously. And in a school like this—” she waved her hand around for emphasis before placing it back down on the table. “Almost everyone here has some kind of disorder or another.”

“And you think that talking about our problems will help us?” I deadpanned.

She nodded. “To a degree. We have a great system here with doctors, and a variety of different treatment options.”

I couldn’t prevent the scoff from slipping past my lips. In other words, she wanted to drug us. Because that was so much better. Was this some kind of sick experiment? It wasn’t like any of us would be missed if their experiment went wrong, so it made sense.

“Is this some kind of mental institution?” My forehead creased in confusion as all these thoughts swarmed me. Sending my brain into overdrive.

“This is a boarding school,” she objected. “But in order to provide the best care for you, we offer what most schools do not.”

“And will I be medicated?”

She glanced down at her papers again, her lips pursed in thought as she flipped through them. If she thought I’d let them drug me, she was delusional. They’d have to sedate me, restrain me, and pry my mouth open.

“It shows here that you have severe depression with bipolar tendencies, and severe anxiety with PTSD.” She looked back up, assessing me—probably for some kind of reaction. “While I strongly recommend that you are treated for these illnesses, they don’t cause you to harm anyone, and if we did start you on antidepressants, you’d have to be monitored for the first few days to make sure that you don’t attempt to harm yourself.”

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. I let her say her piece, now I was ready to get this over with. “I’m obviously not taking your drugs, so that won’t be an issue.”

She didn’t look surprised in the slightest. A frown tugged at her mouth, and she nodded. “Moving on then…” she spread out the papers in front of her, scanning over them thoughtfully, before grabbing one. “I want to start you out on one session a week and we’ll go from there. Failure to comply with the treatment will get you an extra day a week, and failure to show up altogether will earn you a day and night in solitary per session missed.”

“Solitary?” I asked, scrunching up my eyebrows in confusion.

She nodded. “It’s a white room with nothing but a bed and a bucket to relieve yourself in. I can assure you, it’s the last place you want to go.”

Scrunching up my face in disgust, I didn’t bother to say anything. That sounded extreme and almost…inhumane.

“Will Wednesdays work for you, same time every week?” She continued.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I grumbled, rising to my feet.

Thankfully, she took the hint and shut the hell up. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before leaving the room. The door closed with a loud slam, even causing me to wince from the ringing in my ears.

I crumpled the tiny note that was still in my hand as I moved back to Miss Raleigh’s class, slipping through the door with a lump in my throat. I dropped the note in the trash can beside the door before striding over to my seat where I flopped down beside Raven.

Raven shot me a questioning look, but I just nodded my assurance, indicating that I was fine. I placed my bag down on the floor and retrieved my belongings out of it as I’d done before. My gaze drifted to the paper that had been placed on it while I’d been gone, along with a page number that had been scribbled on the first sheet of paper. Once I realized this was a questionnaire a huff of frustration expelled from my lungs. Things were a lot easier when I’d lost all hope for myself and didn’t give a rat’s ass about succeeding.

I flipped open my book to the given number and started reading, jotting down answers as I found them within the book. Thankfully, the story wasn’t too boring or drawn out; it was about a dude who made millions off pants.

I fucking wish.

It didn’t make sense to me how some people got so lucky and the rest of us had to suffer. I mean…come on. Pants?

Unsurprisingly, the assignment took me the rest of the class period to complete. When the bell sounded, my shoulders tensed, and my breath got lodged in my throat.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

I’d been so lost in what I was doing that I hadn’t even paid any attention to the time. Stuffing everything in my bag at once, I jumped to my feet, not caring that Raven was calling for me as I darted out of the classroom.

---