Group therapy is the worst part of my day. I don't like to talk about my problems, and I don't want other girls my age hearing about them. I embarrass myself.
"Hollie? Are you in there? Please introduce yourself to the new girls", Dr. Evans, the group therapist calls out to me while snapping his fingers.
He's so annoying.
"Yes, um right. Um I'm Hollie. I'm in room 407B if you ever wanna chat, I've been here for 2 months which is bullshit, I love cats and I hate group therapy!", I said sarcastically, shooting Dr. Evans a glance.
He took a deep breath, "That is not how we speak in group, Hollie. Please start again. You know what you're supposed to say. I don't want to have to call your parents again."
A couple girls laughed.
I smirked at him.
"Okay fine, I'm Hollie, I am 17. I've been in the program for treatment of my Anorexia Nervosa for 2 months. I want to go home. Is that good enough for you Evans?", I raged.
"Perfect. Thank you! Who's next?".
He makes me want to vomit.