Support Group

So this story includes people from Reedsy, and I had fun making the quiz and letting people answer it, so I think I will do it more often. There’s Aerin Rebecca, my first follower and friend, she’s Samara in this. Go follow her if you haven’t already. Right now, her name is Don't read my profile pic but I think she’s gonna change it back soon.

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/don-t-read-my-profile-pic/

There’s Cookie Carla, and she’s Cookie in this. Go follow her and read her Adri Trilogy.

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/cookie-carla/

And there’s also Wish in this story, but Im really sorry I have no idea who it is...

Samara

The museum reminds me of dad. He used to paint me and my mom. He didnt believe in photographs, just paintings. He was an amazing artist. But now he’s not.

“Mom. Let’s go. I cant.” I tell my mom, urging to go home. “Is it your memory? Oh, no. Alright, honey. Let’s go.” We walk out of the hard metal doors together, looking at one final painting. A mother and a daughter at the piano, playing and singing together. And now I have had it. My eyes change to hard red and my body turns hot. I bolt, running to the bicycles. And I ride home.

I can’t believe it. The woman who gave birth to me 13 years ago is sending me to a place you go once a week to discuss your problems with others. In other words, Support Group. Like what? She can’t do that to me.

Just because she knows I have hyper photographic memory she thinks that I’m always stressed and over control. Thats because my parents split up when I was 5. Now I live with my mother, and my father is on the other side of the world on a boat with some other woman and enjoying English Tea with her. Man, that sucks. And so my mother thinks that memories of my parents fighting and arguing is stressing me out. She’s not wrong. She’s the one stressing me out, with all this yakking about my social health and importance of being happy. My my.

Cookie

Uh-oh. My family thinks its good for me that I go to Support Group. My grandfather just died, and well, he was my favorite family member, so I understand, but its just gonna get more stressful for me. I really loved him, so I was glad that my last words to him were positive. Before he died, I had told him about how to make an Omelet but not use too much ketchup. After that, he gleefully headed towards the Elderly Home to tell his old friends about my recipe, and then...a truck came at him, full speed, knocked him over. Oh, how I cried. I mean, it was just last week. And we had the funeral yesterday. I had cried so much that today my family decided I should go to Support Group. I mean, I’m all up for sharing and expressing, but aren’t these strangers I’m talking to? What if they think my problem is not that bad? What if they think I’m a crybaby? Then I wont be able deal with it anymore, no.

Wish

I cut school. So what? My dad thinks cutting school is bad. I mean, I did join a gang once, but not on purpose. They bribed me with no school coupons. It was later that I realized they were fake. And all my friends are in boarding school, far away from home, having fun dining and being free. Not me. I’m just waiting for these 10 months, praying that they will be over soon. And now my dad wants me to use these 10 months by going to a group and talk about why cutting school is bad. Its not that bad, at least in my opinion.

Luke

My mother is sending me to Support Group. She thinks it will be good because I dont get out of the house enough. Thats only because there’s no adventure out there at all. Besides, she wont even let me out of the neighborhood. She says its too dangerous. How am I gonna get adventure with an overprotective parent? And what adventure will I get there? No forests, oceans. Is Support Group even an environment? God, no. Well, I do know that I am taking my backpack with me. My motto is “Always prepared, never ready.” Dont ask. It’s how I live.

Samara

“Hey everyone, so I’m Liam. I’m here to guide you through your emotions and thoughts in life. Let’s start with introductions. I can start. I’m Liam, I’m 22, and I love helping people and giving advice. My little brother has ADHD, so I can kind of relate.” Oh, boy. Just the mention of ADHD reminds me of why I’m here and what I’m dealing with. “Let’s start with you, Samara.” He says, gesturing to me. Okay.

“I’m Samara, I’m 13, and my mom thinks I have ADHD because of my photographic memory which is awesome, not to brag. My parents split up when I was 5, and i have loads of memories from that, so she thinks I’m under stress and all that.“ I say, blinking to indicate that i have finished talking. But Liam pushes. “What about you? Do you think you have ADHD?“ Uh. Tough one. “I dont know. But I do have constant mood shifts. And yeah, those memories do make my cry sometimes. Sometimes.” I say, scowling. Liam nods and gestures towards the boy next to me, wearing baggy pants and a checked shirt. A small backpack was slung over his chair, and a book was peeking out of the zipper gap. he was short, although he looked about 15. Nerdy? Geeky? Or always looking for adventure? Either way, lets just hear it.

“I’m Luke, 15 years old, almost 16, and I’m always in the house, sulking because there’s no adventure around. My mom thinks its good that I go here. You know, to get out of the house and all.“ We all nod. “Next.” Liam softly says, nodding towards a girl about my age, she looks really pretty. Wavy brown hair, green eyes, not too girly, just casual style. I wonder what could ever be wrong with her.

”I’m Wish, 14, and I cut school a lot, so my dad thinks there are a lot of things in my head. We dont talk much, my family and I. Just my friends. And once, i joined a gang without knowing it. So my dad‘s probably also worried about that.” She tells us. Liam thinks for a moment before speaking. “Why did you cut school? Do people bully you?“ Wish blinks. “Oh, no. It’s just my friends all moved to boarding school and I have to wait a year before going too, so no friends at school, and the Fact that school is boring. Thats pretty much it.” She says, nodding. Woah. Thats sad. My eyes turn a soft emerald. Liam nods slowly before pointing at the last member of our group, and she looks horrible. I bet she’s a really positive person in reality, but right now she looks horrible. Maybe someone died? “Oh, hi, I’m Cookie, 16, and my favorite family member just died. He was my grandfather.” Wow. So she doesn’t talk much. But then she surprises me. “I had just told him how to make an Omelet without using too much ketchup. He had headed towards the Elderly Home to share the recipe. But then he got run over. By a truck.” She adds. Now that is devastating. “I’m sorry.” I tell her. She looks up and smiles briefly. Nods, but doesn’t say anything. She seems slightly better now. Liam waits and then stands up from his chair. Claps his hands, tells us that was the end of our first meeting, and says he hopes to see us soon.