Chapter 5

Darryl Nelson

It feels like someone has thrown up in my brain and stuffed their dirty sweat socks in my mouth. Cracking an eye open, I’m met with turquoise walls, not my stark white ones which are still waiting for me to cover them in posters.

Groaning, I roll over and find Stevie’s long red hair covering the pillow next to me. Fuck! I was half hoping I’d hooked up with some random skank, but I had a vague recollection of talking to Stevie last night, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to find I was in her room.

I slide my cell out of my pocket, noting the cracks in the screen which weren’t there yesterday, and see I have so many missed calls and text message notifications under the clock which is telling me it’s five-thirty a.m.

As quietly as I can, I crawl over Stevie who doesn’t even stir, and make my way downstairs, where a deep voice makes me jump. “Morning, slugger.”

“Hey, AJ,” I steel myself for a telling off, but instead AJ hands me a glass of cold orange juice with a smirk. I gulp it back almost in one go, and he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Heavy night?”

“Something like that,” I mumble, running a hand down my face, wincing as pain blossoms out from my right eye. “What are you doing up this early?”

He chuckles, gesturing to his outfit. My eyes run over the obvious sportswear he’s dressed in. “Going out for a run. Wanna join me?”

“Nah, man…running’s not really my thing. Especially at stupid o’clock in the morning.” I make a move to step round him, but his strong hand on my shoulder makes me stop.

“You know you can come talk to me or George about anything, anytime, Darryl. It’s totally normal to not want to talk to your parents about these types of feelings…” He trails off as I push his hand off, and glare at him.

“I’m fine.” Without another glance, I storm out of his house and make my way back to the downward spiral I was currently sliding into.

***

I fumbled my way through the next few weeks in a haze of strong alcohol, stronger weed, and a smattering of coke.

I’d never used anything stronger than weed before, but I was liking the feeling of euphoria it was giving me currently. Whatever stopped me from having to think about any of this painful shit.

After I’d bolted from my house, I’d stumbled upon a group of generous new friends who congregated in a dark corner of the local park. For a short fight, I got showered in the kinds of gifts I was craving at this shitty moment.

My dad kept trying to talk to me on the few occasions I dragged my sorry ass into work, and Smit had all but given up talking to me after the monosyllabic conversations I’d offered him.

And every time I went home and saw my mom’s worried face and Vinnie’s scared one, I just felt like utter shit.

And so, it began again.

At least I hadn’t ended up in Stevie’s again. I’d woken several times in the park, sprawled out on the grass with various insects nibbling at my exposed skin.

A few times on strangers’ couches. One time I’d even found myself slumped on the metal steps behind my dad’s store. That one hurt, I tell you! Metal was a very unforgiving pillow.

But today, my dad had rounded me up and bundled me into his car and dumped me at a new therapist’s office.

I’d been in therapy for the last few years, my dad joking that growing up listening to all that death metal had damaged my soul, but I knew the dark thoughts would have been there regardless. My mom knew too…I could see it in her eyes.

“I don’t wanna go…it doesn’t make any fucking difference to anything.”

“Well then, you may as well go in.” I hum my disagreement at him. My dad sighs deeply, twisting in the driver’s seat to fix me with a resigned look. “Darryl…I have so much shit to deal with right now.

I’d feel better if I knew that you were at least pretending to deal with your problems so I can stop losing sleep over you too. Please…just go give it a chance. You were doing so well with Dr. Reeves.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have considered that before you moved us all the way over here.” I slam the door before he can respond and stomp my way into the doctor’s office and check in with the receptionist.

As I sink into the plastic waiting chair, I glance out of the window and see he’s still sitting in his car outside. He wipes at his cheeks, and I quickly drop my gaze, feeling like a voyeur all of a sudden.

Maybe I should cut him some slack. Or at least try to be less of a twat all the time.

“Mister…Darryl Nelson?” I look up and see a guy—probably around the same age as my folks—with dark salt and pepper hair, and a dark scruff covering his lower jaw.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Greene, your therapist. Shall we?” He gestures to the open door to his office, and I stand with a stroppy moan. “Looking forward to our session, I take it?”

“I’m having a shitty day, okay? I’ve got the hangover from fucking hell.” I slump into the corner of the long sofa which dominates his bland-looking office.

“Yeah, that can suck. You know what helps with that?” He sits down behind his desk and steeples his fingers in front of his chin. I tip my head, waiting for his hangover cure. “Not getting fucked up.”

I snort out a laugh. My last doctor was a strait-laced idiot, maybe this guy actually wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Our first session lasts for just under two hours, mostly full of inane questions about what I’d spoken about in therapy before and what meds I’d tried before.

He schedules a regular slot on a Tuesday morning, eleven o’clock. It meant once I was back at school, I would have to miss a period, but I didn’t really care. He also gives me a new prescription for some different antidepressants and tells me to stop the boozing.

My dad is waiting for me, Vinnie sitting in the back seat, his nose buried in a book as per usual. I give my dad a tight smile as I sit down, and he pats my knee—all is obviously forgiven. “I’ve got a surprise for you at home.”