Group Counselling, Day 3, Part I [Short Story – The Early Birds]

Part 3 of Group Counselling Day 2, Part 2 (Short Story)

But this part can be read separately.


10:34 am, Saturday Morning, Counselling Building’s Lobby

“…Yeah, I was diagnosed with clinical depression but I refused to take my medications.”

“Really. Why?”

“I’ve seen what those strong anti-depressants do to people. I rather be dead on my own terms, than be unintentionally brain-dead.”

Cora sat in the counselling building’s lobby, with its white-washed walls and large sun-loving windows, heck, even their wooden benches potrayed prestige and inclusion.

And Cora didn’t want their inclusion. 

She waited for her group counselling session to commence on a sturdy wooden bench. The farthest, away from the conversationalists in her group. All the conversations—invitations into people lives—that she’d overheard that morning reminded her of why she didn’t come before to the group counselling sessions. Every Saturday morning, she timed her arrival. She would come at the exact time of the session…so she would avoid conversing. She wanted to enter the counselling room, and go straight home after. She didn’t want to engage in awkward small talks with her group members, before or after. 

However, Cora was dropped off by her parents awfully early that Saturday morning. 

Cora wondered if the people around her (the early-birds) were obsessed with themselves. Theses people filled the counselling building before the appointed time, just to have their own pre-counselling session in the lobby before the actual group session in Ms. Machete’s assigned room…

“I have an anger disorder,” a dark skinned four-eyed female (Simone) started the next conversation. “I was given pills, did heart coherence training thing, and then they sent me to this weird anger management center in Scarborough. That’s when I got ticked off. I was sure that if I stayed in that anger rehab crap, I would turn into an even bigger freak.” 

Other females and males around her nodded their heads. 

“Do you still take the medications?” A bulky male asked her, fair and squared. 

“No. But I still do the heart coherence training. It keeps me in control of my anger most of the time,” Simone replied. 

A round-eyed female next to her decided to ask the next question. “What’s heart coherence training?”

“It’s ah…” Simone shuffled her glasses. “It’s a technique for stress and anger management. It’s basically like meditation, to control your heartbeat and breathing during times of distress.”

“Oh.” 

Cora twisted a hand through her curly hair, kept tugging at the fringes on her green leather jacket, pulled at her white t-shirt, and occasionally fished-out her phone from the left pocket of her bleached-blue jeans, and all in effort to distract herself from the conversations around her. But none of it helped, their conversations weaved into her ear canal, wanting to be heard. 

“Cora.”

She ignored. 

“Cora.”

A scarred male laughed. “Dude just leave her alone,” he said. 

“No. I just wanna ask her something,” the other male retorted. 

Cora knew him. It was pee-pee Daren, the boy Cora told on the first group counselling meeting that he smelt like piss.

“Cora!”

“Ice queen!”

“Shutup Daren,” she replied, slowly raising her head to the pimply, tanned idiot. 

He grinned, “At least I got your attention.”

“Hmm…congratulations,” Cora replied with an eye roll. “What do you want?”

“What your diagnosis?” He asked.

Cora face scrunched. “What?” 

He frowned, “What your diagnosis—-like what are you suffering from? Why are you here? Everyone’s said their reasons, what’s yours?”

Cora looked at him, and group of people around him. They all stared at her, and she saw curiosity their expression as clear as the daylight.She glared and grunted, “That’s not your business. That’s not any of your business. Not everyone likes to talk about themselves. But I’m sure, for you guys it would quite hard to believe…”


I’ll post something new on Tuesdays!

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