Chapter 3

   Depression is cliche. Too many people talk about it, in ways that make it overrated, embarrassing, laughable, poser. Depression is depression, and there is no one way to portray it. It's dark. I've been there many times before. I walk down the hall behind Drew at a slow pace. I know who will be waiting behind the visitors entrance. I don't feel like talking. I don't feel like saying how I feel, or how I've been doing. They will ask me questions they already know the answers too. I know that they don't want to be here. They know I don't want them to be here. I don't know why they came.
   I want to scream, but I'm scared to. If I scream, will I be told to be quiet? If I scream, will I be told to stop acting like a child? If I scream, will anybody understand, or will it be calling wolf? Drew pushes open the door to the visitors entrance and I remind myself to breathe. I see them almost immediately, sitting on the old couch that was most likely found on the side of a street with a rain stained piece of paper that read FREE. I rub my arms uncomfortably as I walk towards them, Drew by my side.
   "Mr. and Mrs. Kendrick?"
   They look up as their names are called. My mother is here, and so is my father. My face goes still. My sister is absent.
   "Finally," my mother groans. Her lipstick is perfectly applied. "I thought we'd be here all afternoon waiting for your sorry a*s to get out of bed."
   "It's eight am mom," I mumble beneath my breath. She doesn't hear me.
   "Can we please get started? I have a nine o'clock."
   Drew nods his head and we turn, walking back down the hall in which I had just came from. I keep my eyes on the floor as we walk. I don't want to look at them.
   "For god's sake Jude, keep your head up and watch where your going." I could almost hear my father roll his eyes. "It looks unprofessional."
   Because I had to be professional all the time.
   "So," Drew began, clearing his throat. "Jude has just gotten to go out and eat breakfast today. He's been doing very well so far, although his therapist says he isn't talking too much."
   My mother turned on her heels towards me, stopping the group. "Jude, if you don't talk how are we supposed to know they'll fix you up?"
   "Ma'am, our goal here is not to 'fix', we merely help them get rid of bad habits."
   "Sure," she said waving her hand as if to dismiss it. "Jude?" She raises her eyebrows at me.
   "I'll talk when I'm ready."
   "When you're ready." She exhaled roughly. "And when exactly will that be? That could be years for all I know."
   "I will talk when I'm ready," I repeated.
   I saw a group of people turn into the hallway, a guide leading them through, explaining what I heard to be the daily schedule of the rehab.
   "Perhaps you should start now," my father ordered roughly. "It's your turn to start doing some explaining, especially after what happened at Grace's wedding."
   He says it loudly, and I know the group can hear. The lady is wondering whether she can sneak past us or not, but the visitors have stopped at my fathers voice. They look like they're in high school.
   "Shut up," I say.
   "No, I have every right to talk about what happened. You fucked up Jude, you stormed on in there high on crack for everyone to see. Do you know what that's done to our reputation? To your sisters?"
   "Stop talking," I say, letting my eyes meet his face. "Just shut up about it."
   "Look what you've done to this family. Grace won't talk to us, she won't even come to visit you. Her husband is now worried that the craziness runs in the family."
   "Excuse me sir-" Drew tries to interrupt.
   "No!" My father shouts. He pushes me, hard. "F**k Jude, you had to just show off didn't you? Show off your drugs, your mightiness."
   I push my father back. "Don't touch me!"
   "I'll touch you all I f*****g want, I own you."
   "You don't f*****g own me." I narrow my eyes. "I'm not an object."
   "Excuse me!" Drew yells.
   "You, shut the f**k up." My father grabs my shirt. "Why don't you just run out of here Jude? Huh? If you want crack so much, you want to f**k up so much, go ahead. Go f**k up. Go get crack. Crack crack crack."
   I feel my heart pound fast at the word, my body crawling with desire. "Shut up!" I scream, hitting him across the face.
   My father punches me in response, and then again, and again, and again.
   "Rupert!" My mother yells.
   I try to hit him back but he's too fast. He slams his knee into my stomach, sending me staggering into the wall.
   "Security!" Drew is yelling into his walkie talkie.
   I push off the wall and dodge my fathers fist before throwing him to the floor, hitting him.
   "Rupert god damn it!" My mother keeps screaming.
   I'm crying now. I don't want to cry. In fact, I hate crying. I hit my father again. I try a second time, but hands grab me from behind, pulling me off of him. Blood covers both of us, and the floor. I try to break away from security, but they're holding me too tightly. They grab my father and my mother and begin towing them out, my mother screaming the whole time. My vision is blurred. Security drops me and I fall to the floor. I feel Drew's arms on me.
   "Let's go get you cleaned up."
   I look up to see the group of high school students are still standing there, most of them whispering and talking to one another about what just happened. There is one girl in the midst of it all, with hair like fire. She is still. She stares. Her face is blank, but her eyes aren't. I'm not close enough to see if I can recognize her. Drew pulls me through a door, and she is gone.

Reviews

[Stanley Wright]

I read the first three chapters, then breezed through the last one to see how it ended. I'm the thick type and didn't quite realize it was rehab until the middle of the second chapter when you began talking about drugs. I think you evoke that scene well, and once it dawned on me, I got it.

You're certainly putting some passion into this, some real energy. That's clear from the opening sentences. For me, I think there is something a bit cliche about the dialogue in this chapter. Read through it. Haven't we seen it before? The outraged parents. You've ruined our reputation, etc. Moreover, it's fairly on the nose, though only the cliched parts of it. The other parts, when Jude is interacting with his peers (in C-2), comes off better.

This is pretty dark stuff (especially after reading the ending; forgive me, grad school taught me, first chapter, last chapter, two middle chapters). It would be a difficult read. A dark novel needs something to reward the reader. Perhaps you know what this is, and haven't read enough to get to it. But can you write that in a sentence. I will reward the reader with X (from the reader's perspective).

Keep at it and best wishes.