《Ravenge》 Is This Goodbye..? I sit in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the basic room. Fredrick and Damon are running late for visitation. My appointed therapist silently watches me from next to the door. When Freddy finally comes in, my therapist stands. "Sorry I''m late. I was speaking to Gunther and his family." "How is Gun?" I look up eagerly as Freddy ignores me and quietly speaks to my therapist. My therapist nods and leaves the room. Freddy sits down, remaining silent and avoiding eye contact. "Freddy?" "I heard your parents have stopped visiting." "Haha yeah. My parents don''t want anything to do with me now. It was bad enough I started a band instead of going to college. That''s why I''m so happy to have you and Damon here for me!" "Well, about that..." He stalls and I get increasingly nervous. "Freddy. Relax, just tell me." "I won''t be coming here anymore. Damon won''t be calling." I''m shocked and Freddy looks only slightly guilty. "Why?" "We can''t Betty.." "What do you mean?" I can tell he''s stressed and getting angry. "You nearly killed Gunner." "And I can''t even put into words how absolutely horrible I feel about what happened. Is he okay?" "Is he okay? Did you really just ask me if he''s okay?! He''s paralyzed Betty! He can''t play! They''re not sure if he''ll even be able to walk again!" "I... Freddy... If I could, I''d switch places with him. But I can''t... Please don''t stop visiting. I didn''t know this would happen." "Really?! It didn''t cross your mind when you decided to drive drunk and on pain medication? Gunner only got into the passenger seat to make sure you didn''t fall asleep driving! You were like a little sister to him! Look where it got him." Tears begin streaming down my face and Freddy looks away. "I didn''t do this on purpose! Yes, I fucked up. Yes, I should''ve stayed or let Gunner Drive. Yes, everything is my fault. But, damn it, don''t act like I got into the accident and hurt Gun on purpose!" He hesitantly grabs my hand and squeezes. "Betty, I know. I don''t mean to make you feel like it''s your fault. But B, you have to look at the seriousness of the situation. Think about how bad this would look on me and Damon. If you want this band to succeed, you can''t associate with us anymore." "What the fuck Freddy! It''s my band!" Freddy drops my hand and pats my shoulder. "Yet you sit in the back. I''m the lead singer sweetheart, the face of the bad." "That''s bullshit!" "Look B, we took a vote. You''re out." "Did you bully Damon into kicking me out?" "Actually, we had a talk. He understands how replaceable he is and we don''t want that." "I should''ve kicked you out when Gunner came to me with concerns." He stands up and walks over to the door with a smug grin on his face. "But you didn''t sweetheart. We just couldn''t possibly get signed with an alcoholic drummer that''s in rehab for nearly killing our lead guitarist. Damon''s here." Freddy leaves and Damon rushes in. I''ve been in love with him since before I started the band. He''s been my best friend longer than that. I can''t imagine he even wants to look at me now. Thinking about it makes the tears flow faster. Damon closes the door and lifts me into his arms, wiping my tears. "Damon.." "Please don''t cry." He sits on the floor, holding me in his lap. "I''m sorry." "Aww B, I would never stop talking to you. We just have to be careful of Freddy. I''ll write everyday, I promise." "I hurt Gun.. You should hate me.." He squeezes me against him harder. "Gunner doesn''t hate you, so why should I? He was really worried that you got hurt too. You''re his little sister. No matter what''s said or done, Gun would never stop caring about you." "Really?" "You''re the only person that Freddy is afraid of. Now that you''re here, he thinks he can do whatever he wants and nothing can stop him." I go quiet, enjoying the feeling of being in Damon''s arms. "What will I do if I can''t see you or hear your voice?" He sighs, kissing the top of my head. "It''s not a prison B. It''s a rehab center. Use the pool, learn to cook, pick up a hobby. Betty, you''ll be okay." "No I won''t." He sighs again. "Betty.. Please try. For me and for Gunner. I''ll write you. And when Gunner gets out of the hospital, he''ll write you. It''s only 18 months." I move to look up at him. "That''s a year and a half! So much could change Damon!"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He smiles at my worried face. "Like what? My hair will grow out? I''ll write songs about how much I miss you?" I gently hit his chest. "I''m being serious! The band could get signed and Freddy would be in charge!" "B, we need a drummer and a lead guitarist. That''s half the band. No one can replace our sound." "I''m easily replaced. It''s as simple as following notes." Damon rolls his eyes. "You know it''s not that simple B." "So much could change." He forces my chin up so we''re locking eyes. "Betty, are you worried I''ll abandon you?" "No..." "B, I know when something is bothering you. You don''t have to say it out loud.. I could never leave you. I promise. You''re my best friend. I love you." I go quiet, staring at Damon''s hands holding me against him. "Betty?" I look up, my hair in my face. Damon pushes my hair behind my ear and wipes new tears from my cheeks. "Please, I can''t stand to see you cry. Oh, here." He takes off his favorite necklace and puts it over my head. "Damon?" I hold the engraved silver pick in my hand. "I promise I''ll always be here for you. That''s proof. I wouldn''t give that to anyone else. You know how important it is to me." I nod. "I''ll keep it safe Damon." He smiles as my therapist knocks on the door, signaling visitation is over. I stand and help Damon up. He hugs me tightly and kisses my cheek. "I love you B." "I''ll be waiting for your first letter Damon." I sit on the fake leather couch in my therapist''s office after Damon and Freddy left. Therapy always follows visitation. It''s a joke. "How are you feeling Miss. Morris?" "I''m fine." I mumble out. I hate this bullshit. Talking about feelings doesn''t fix anything. I''d rather get my hands on a set of drums. I space, remembering the bands last performance. It was only our 3rd show after Freddy convinced me to change the band name. The announcer laughed out our name. ''Blood on the Sword''. Our fans even laughed. I don''t know why I even listened to him. The therapist breaks me from my thoughts. "Betty?" "Huh." I look at her, confused. "I asked about your parents. Last week was their last visit?" I groan. My parents are a sore subject. They only cared about me when I was their puppet. Doing everything they wanted, getting good grades, wearing long skirts and sweaters, not being allowed to cut my hair. I smile, remembering my 18th birthday. They never liked Damon. According to them he corrupted their sweet angel. Damon and I got tattoos, I bought new clothes, got my hair cut and dyed. I came home a whole new person, my own person. My father swore Damon had the devil possess me. I left home soon after that night and crashed on groupies couched as Freddy, Gunther and our old friend Tom fucked the girls like crazy. I actually replaced Tom on drums when he switched to keyboard and eventually left. "What kind of parent puts a restraining order on their kid?" "Not to give your parents credit, but you stabbed your father in the hand with a pen." "He was being an asshole." "He was concerned for your wellbeing Betty." "He was talking shit about Damon. Aren''t you supposed to fix me, not piss me off?" She sighs, jotting some notes in her binder. "Let''s shift focus then. You seemed upset after seeing Mr. Rivers, I understand he''s taken himself off the contact list." "Freddy is a loser. He thinks he can do whatever because I''m here." "He''s taken control of the band." I hit the arm of the couch as I grit my teeth. "That''s my band." "Betty, I don''t need to remind you that life will go on out there without you. Whether you like it or not. How has Mr. Abbot''s diagnosis affected you?" "You asked me that 3 weeks ago." "And you didn''t answer." I groan and sink back into the couch. "I wish it were me, I feel like shit. What do you want from me?" "What you''re feeling would be a start." "I feel bad. There aren''t words to compare to how I feel. But most importantly, I want a strong drink." She nods, writing more things down. "What about Mr. Zeer? You never speak about him." I stare at my hands. "Why didn''t you respond when Damon said ''I love you'' to you? Do you not feel the same?" "Of course I do!" "Then why not say it back? Especially since this seems to be the last physical contact until you get out. He asked me to be removed from visitation and phone calls." I fold my arms across my chest, becoming defensive. "I''ve never said it." "Pardon?" "I''ve never said that out loud and meant it!" She looks up at me, surprised. "Not even to your parents?" I shrug. "They never said it so why should I?" She stares at me, intrigued. "That''s it for today Betty but we''ll pick this conversation back up at another time." Rules and Questions "Betty, I''m sorry I haven''t wrote until now. It''s been busy out here. With work, I mean. The record shop closed. They told us the way it used to be is dead. Like the music and shit. Anyway, I got a new job. They work us like crazy. It''ll be nice to save up though. Since nothing is going on with the band. I could finally buy you that drum set you were eyeing for months. We''ll need a new hangout spot once you get released too. Uh, your parents had all your stuff from your apartment put in storage. They''re dropping the key off to me next week. Then I''ll mail it to you. They can''t send it themselves because of the restraining order. Don''t worry, I''ll pay for the storage. Damn, I talked too much about myself. How are you holding up? Anything new? I''ll write more often, I promise. I miss you Betty. It''s tough out here without seeing your face to brighten up my day! Pictures just don''t compare! It''s a bit strange writing to you. I didn''t even write my penpal I was assigned in middle school. Ah, it''s hard not to ramble on in a letter. Only 17 months left. I love you, Damon" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "My beautiful bassist, You sure took your sweet time. I''m going crazy in here. I hate it. Did ya know they read every letter that comes in and goes out? I''m sorry the shop closed. We loved that place. It''s great you have a new job. But Damon, don''t bother buying me that set. I''m stuck in here for so long, I''ll probably forget how to play. Save that money for yourself. Thanks for letting me know about my stuff. I have the option to get a job in here. It''ll probably suck and pay near to nothing, but I''ll do it. Then, I''ll be able to pay the storage myself. It is my stuff anyway. I have to do stupid group therapy. I can''t even refuse. I have to do what they tell me or I''ll get thrown in jail. I have to choose 3 activities per week or whatever too. The only cool thing is that soon I''ll be able to go out on Saturdays! To certain places and under watch but still! It''s something, right! Who am I kidding? It''ll still suck, won''t it? I miss you too. Ah, I feel so honored to have the wonderful Damon Zeer write me! I''m just a garbage human in rehab for an alcohol addiction. Hey, do you think the band would''ve just died if Freddy wouldn''t have joined? Do you think it was selfish of me to push Tom off drums to keyboard? Do you think he left because of me? I don''t know. I was just wondering. Write back soon, Betty." Pick And Choose The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Tom It''s been about a week of taking nausea pills and Advil with a cup of coffee a day. Surprisingly it helps. I''ve been sitting in for the activities I chose but not really participating because of the withdrawal. Today is visitation Tom called only long enough to assure me he was coming in. My probation period is up soon so I''ve decided to get a job. Speaking of job, my therapist knocks on my door frame. "Betty." "Making house calls now?" She ignores me. "You applied to do reception work here?" "Yeah." "Why?" I look at her, confused. "Because it''d be fun. Duh to make some money for when my probation period is up." She flips through some papers. "Ah yes. Well, are you sure? You''ll be very busy with 3 activities and a job. Wait. Did you.. just apply because it''s the highest paying job available?" I smile my most innocent smile. "How would I know the pay. You don''t tell that until improved for the work." "Are you willing to take out your piercings?" "No. Absolutely not." "You''re a pain in my side Betty." "Then send me home." "You don''t have one, remember?" "Jesus doc." She flips through some papers. "I''m not here to sugar coat things for you. They honestly don''t pay me enough." I sigh and flop back on my bed. "You''ll know if you''ve been approved for the job by the end of the week. Next week you''ll start participating in activities. Visitation starts in an hour, you''ll come straight to me after, and then you can enjoy dinner." She leaves and closes my door. I choose to stay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Damon hasn''t wrote back yet. I''m sure he''s just busy with work and probably finding a girl to replace me. It''s not like I''m that special, to begin with. I''ve never believed that he doesn''t sleep around. It''s not like we''re together, officially at least and we''ve never slept together. Finally, I get up ad head towards the visitation rooms. "Sign in please." "Is he here yet?" "Nope but you can go in and wait. Room 5 is open." I head inside and wait, practically twiddling my thumbs. I''m so nervous. None of us heard from Tom after he left. I was honestly surprised when he wanted to see me. According to my therapist, I ruined his life when I introduced Freddy to the band. "Betty?" I jump up from my chair when the door opens. "Tom!" He closes the door behind him and we hug for a long time. Once we break apart, we sit.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. "Wow Betty, I don''t want to sound like an ass but you look like shit." "Withdrawal." He nearly falls out of his chair. "Cocaine!" "No! Are you stupid!? Alcohol." He sighs from relief. "Jesus Betty, don''t scare me like that." "Whatever. How''d you find me? And why?" Tom frowns. "What do you mean why?" "The last time any of us saw you, you were packing your equipment. You blocked our calls and messages when we tried to reach out." "I was angry at first. After a while, I came to understand that you kicking me out of the band was the best thing that could''ve happened. The music scene is toxic. I stopped drinking, got a stable job. It''s great." I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I didn''t kick you out, you left on your own." "First, that wasn''t my main point at all. Second, you brought Fredrick into an already full band, took over my position, and forced me to keyboard. Third, I don''t want to hear it. That''s not what I''m here for." "Why are you here then?" He frowns. "Were you always this much of an asshole or is it just that you''re here?" "Both." "Damn Betty. Regardless of the past, we''re family. Please relax." I sigh deeply and play with the thread hanging from my sweater sleeves. "Alright. I''m sorry." "Okay. I''m here because Damon reached out to me." I smile wide. "To check on me? He''s so sweet!" "No Betty. They wanted me to come back to the band as drummer." My mouth drops open and I''m speechless. Tom looks uncomfortable and stumbles to continue. "I said no of course! That past is behind me and I like my boring job and life. But Damon explained everything that''s happened in the last year. I''m so sorry Betty." My vision begins to blur with tears. "I.. Damon didn''t tell me they were doing auditions. He said it''d take forever because they needed two members." "Well, technically they only need to replace you. Gunther can still play guitar. He''ll just be in his wheelchair. It won''t be too hard. I think you should focus on your happiness for Gun, not your sadness over the other stuff. I mean Fredrick already kicked you out, it''s not like you could go back. Also, they got signed to a label. But don''t let that overshadow Gun''s progress!" "How do you expect me to just be happy? Music is the only thing that''s ever made sense. Music doesn''t let me down, music can''t hate me, music won''t leave. I cannot live without music. It''s everything to me!" Tom glares at me. "Grow up Betty. Music left you the day you got into that driver''s seat. You''ve been living fine without music. Take some god damn responsibility. And don''t whine about how bad you feel about what happened to Gunther. If you truly felt bad, you wouldn''t be sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. It''s not Damon''s fault or Fredrick''s fault. You got yourself kicked out. You put yourself in this position. You almost got yourself killed. You almost paralyzed Gunther. Don''t blame the alcohol or whatever else you were on either. You put that bottle to your mouth every day. You made a conscious decision to do this to yourself. And don''t even think about blaming your parents either Betty, you know better." After he''s finished, he leaves. I stare at the ground for a bit in shock. I leave the room, sign out of visitation, and head right for my therapist. I knock and walk-in, sitting on the hard couch. "A bit early than I expected Betty. How was it?" "Am I selfish? Am I avoiding taking responsibility?" My therapist leans forward and interlaces her fingers like a villain from a movie. "Do you think you''re selfish?" "I mean I don''t know. Everyone can be a little selfish, it just depends." "Okay, let''s try this. What do you think caused the accident?" "Well, I was drinking and taking the medicine because my parents were really stressing me out over the band, like usual. They came to our practice place earlier, instead of waiting until it was finished like I told them to do. So after I drank a lot more than I normally would have. I didn''t even feel that drunk, I just really wanted more alcohol. Gunther didn''t have to get in the car but he was being annoyingly brotherly. I think it was ultimately a bunch of different things that led up to it." "What was the common denominator in those things?" After thinking for a bit, I hesitantly answer. "Me?" My therapist just watches me with a soft gaze. "Tom was right. I don''t take responsibility. I put it on other things or people that have no control over it." "You being here isn''t a punishment Betty. It''s a learning opportunity and a chance to better yourself. You''re angry and frustrated. I get it. But you take it out on staff and other residents. They''re in the same position as you. None of them really want to be here. They''re here because of bad choices they made. You''re not alone. You''re not the first to hate this, and you won''t be the last. This is why we offer activities, jobs, and incentives. This isn''t a prison, although at first many think it is. We hope you can find someone you can relate to. You can become friends, encourage each other, relax together, form a healthy bond away from the dangers of society and social normalcy. Discover new healthy bonds and hobbies. I''m not saying that you leave here and never drink another drop of alcohol again. Don''t drink until you''re confident to be smart about it. Moderation, one glass of wine, one shot, one beer. You can have fun while sober, everyone can. It''s all about holding yourself to the standard and being responsible. Become the designated sober of your friend group. Record them doing idiotic stuff in case they don''t remember the next day. Set an example." Back and Forth After finishing up with my therapist, I feel disheartened. I was the issue the whole time. Everyone knew how I acted, yet no one said anything. Tom is the first person to ever tell it straight to me. Maybe they wanted me to figure it out on my own and fix it? This hasn''t overshadowed the fact that Damon lied to me multiple times. They''re better without me. Everything is. My parents, Gunther, Damon, Tom, Freddy, the fans, even everyone here. God, I wish I had a drink right now. A stiff drink. Damn, the whole fucking bottle. But that would just be proving everyone''s point. That I''ll never change. I''ll never be worthy of anything. I hold back my tears, taking a few deep breaths. Hearing my stomach grumble, I head towards the main entrance so I can get to the dining area. A young-looking nurse stops me on my way. "Morris, right?" I nod. "I have a letter for you. Also, the man who came for your visit, Mr. Hale, he left you some money for your account." She hands me the letter and I stare at her in shock. "He did?" "Yes, Ma''am. This card is for you. Think of it as your bank card. Friends and family can deposit money on it when they visit and your paycheck for work goes directly to it. Also, the card gives you access to the fresh caf¨¦ and the store on site. The caf¨¦ has fresh, daily prepared foods. You know, stuff that isn''t pre-frozen or comes from a can. The store offers many things. Brand name basic necessities, simple clothes, stationary, candy, snacks, things to decorate your room, and a lot more. To get to these areas you just have to scan your card. If your card is lost or stolen, report it immediately. If found that you let someone else use your card, snuck someone in, or bought things for another resident, your card will be taken away for a period of time. If you want cash for Saturday afternoons, you take out what you want with the activities coordinator. Any questions?" She hands me the card and smiles. "Do you know how much he gave me?" "You''ll have to check with your activities coordinator. Oh! I almost forgot! Here is Mr. Hale''s address, he left encouragement to write him often. He wasn''t able to set up another visitation yet. He said he was unsure of his work schedule but he would try to come back once a month or so." She hands me yet another slip of paper and walks away after I thank her. I was pretty sure he didn''t want to talk to me after he just left the room but I guess he does. I''ll have to write him to figure out what''s going on. I change directions and head towards my room to drop off my letter and Tom''s address. After I lock my door, I head towards the officers to try to remember which one holds my activities director. All I can remember is that it''s a guy. Luckily a staff member is walking down the hall towards me. "Um excuse me, I''m looking for the activities coordinator." "Which one? There are 4." "Uhh... It''s a guy." She sighs and taps her heel impatiently. "There are two male activity coordinators." I blink at her. She sighs again and knocks on the door closest to us. "Yes?" "Mr. Vod, I need your help out here. This young lady has forgotten who her coordinator is." This Mr. Vod opens his door and it''s my activities coordinator. "Ah, Miss. Morris. Thank you, Wanda, I got it. Please, come in." Wanda scurries away with a huff. Mr. Vod follows me into the room and closes the door behind him before sitting at his desk. "I''d figured you didn''t take in my name the first time we met. What can I help you with today?" "I just got this card and I was wondering how much my friend put on it." I hand my card to him and he begins typing on his computer. "Ah yes, you received this after visitation today. Looks like your friend put $50 on it for you." He hands me back the card and I frown. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. "Only $50? What am I supposed to do with that? So he''ll give me $50 once a month? That''s not enough to live off of!" Mr. Vod clears his throat to catch my attention. "Betty this isn''t necessary. In here every need you have is met. We give you food, a room, clothes, and all the basic necessities for free. This card and the things it gets you is an incentive. The meals we serve in the cafeteria are balanced and the menu changes daily. I''m sure one of the staff told you all the rules for this card?" "Yes. Don''t do anything or you''ll take away my card." He smiles and shakes his head. "Such a pessimist Miss. Morris. Just follow the rules and no disciplinary actions will have to be made. Have a good rest of your day." I leave and head straight for the cafeteria. No way am I spending this money now. I want to check out the store first. See what kinds of things I can buy there before I spend all my money on food. Plus today is pizza day. I grab a tray, loading it with a piece of pepperoni pizza, fries, diced peaches, and a small side salad. I also grab a water and a diet coke. After dinner I go right to my room to read Damon''s letter. "Dear Betty, Seriously? Pretty boy? You sound like a middle school bully. Don''t act like you''re superior. I know how you act and the way you get. I answered your question, like it or not. I''m not sugarcoating it for you. Tom leaving was the best thing that could''ve happened to the band. I don''t care if you forced him out, kicked him out or he left willingly. All I care about is that our careers were made after he left and Freddy joined. You''re always talking yourself down and guilt-tripping. I hate it. This is stupid. I don''t want to fight with you in a letter. No matter how long you''re there, it''s still fucked up your parents destroyed your kit. No matter how bad of terms you''re on with them, they shouldn''t have done it. They know how important music is to you. It was like a metaphorical kick in the face. Well, you did stab your dad with a pen though. So I kind of get it but it''s still fucked up. Yeah, I did refuse therapy. But this isn''t fucking about me, is it? You know my situation with my parents. I''m not even allowed to see my own little brother Betty. They thought I was a Satanist and I was gonna sacrifice poor, innocent Betty Morris. So fuck you. You keep low blowing me and I''m gonna fucking stop writing you. I''m trying to support you and be here for you B. You''re making it so difficult with the way you''re acting. I will stop counting. Whatever this Betty is, I would rather her be in there right now. Damon." What an absolute dick. I mean did Freddy write this letter or something? Should I send back his necklace? No, fuck that. I''m keeping it. It''s mine now. If he wants it he can be a man and come here to get it. Too bad he''s too much of a coward to because of Freddy. I take a deep breath and begin writing back. "Damon, You were the one with the attitude in the first place so I don''t know why you''re getting pissed with me. That wasn''t even telling it to me straight, you were being an asshole! Right. I know all you care about is music and fame. I know. So you can prove to your parents, who you say you don''t care about, that you made it. How humble Damon. Guess what. Nobody fucking cares about the bassist. The lead singer is the whole band, don''t you read anymore? How the fuck do I guilt trip you? Explain that to me. Because from where I''m sitting, it looks like I''m just stating facts. I stabbed my father in the hand with a pen because he was blaming everything on you. He was going on and on about none of this would''ve happened if I stayed away from you. I defended you and it got me a restraining order from my parents. So fuck you too. Maybe it should be about you Damon. You always act so fucking high and mighty like you''re better than everyone else. Stop writing me, see if I fucking CARE. You''re a pussy anyway. You won''t even come see me or talk to me on the phone because you''re afraid of Freddy. Oh no, it''s because you''re afraid of getting kicked out of the band. Again, music is what''s most important to you. More important than Jonah and me. It''ll always be that way. Keep telling yourself that your parents are the reason you can''t see Jonah. He''s what, 15 now? Keep telling yourself that it''s not because Jonah doesn''t want anything to do with your punk ass. Shit, I bet if I reached out to Jonah, he''d come see me before you. I bet your parents would even come see me. Fuck you, Damon, fuck you. I don''t need this shit. I''m in here trying to become better. What a great best friend. Betty." I shove the letter into an envelope and hand it to the first nurse I see. I''m trying to catch my breath while laying in bed. I''m beyond angry. My therapist walks by then comes back and knocks on my door. "What do you want?! Now''s not a good time!" "Clearly. I just wanted to let you know that you got the reception job. Lucky for you, no one else applied. Congratulations. You start Tuesday." I sit up and can''t help but smile. "That''s great, thank you. Is there anything else I should know?" "You''ll be working 8am to 6pm Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. You''ll have to eat breakfast before you come in but you''ll get breaks for lunch. If they let you go early, you''ll still get paid for the whole shift. There is a dress code. No baggy sweaters with holes in them. No tight or revealing clothing. We pay for your first uniform and if you want more, you can stop by the store and pick some things up." Eagerly I lean forward. "How much?" "It''s just like a normal job. You''ll be making $10 an hour. And your check will go directly onto your card every Friday." I bounce excitedly on my bed. "Yes! Great! Thank you so much!" "Also a few reminders. Tomorrow is laundry day and the cooking club is canceled until next week, just in time for you to participate. Before our next meeting, I''d like you to buy a daily planner from the store and write down your schedule for me. You''ll need to use this every day and always write your schedule down ahead of time. Since you have a free day tomorrow I suggest volunteering for laundry duty." I nod, happy I''m now going to be making money. "Yes Ma''am! Will do! Thank you so much!" My whole mood is brighter. I''m not even worried about Damon anymore. This is great. I lay down and quickly fall asleep. New Friend I get up a bit late since my club is canceled and it''s laundry day. In the cafeteria, I grab some oatmeal, a diced apple, and a cup of coffee. The doctor recommended I drink it black, which doesn''t bother me much. After I finish, it''s time to get down to business. I head to the basement to find the laundry room. "Can I help you?" "Oh hi. I''m Betty, one of the residents. I wanted to volunteer to help with laundry today." The young woman shakes my hand. "Great! We really need it today. I''m Sarah, a resident as well. I think I''ve seen you around but you always look like you want to be left alone." I awkwardly laugh and she pats my arm. "It''s okay. Most people are like that when they first get here. Glad to see you''ve finally adjusted! Anyway, your job. You can go around the female section and collect their laundry. Don''t worry you don''t have to touch their clothes with your bare hands or anything. We have latex-free gloves and a new apron for you. Okay?" She begins to walk away when I stop her. "Whoa wait. I''ve never done this before. I need more details." She slaps her palm to her forehead. "Right. My bad. Here''s the cart. There are slots to separate the baskets. They''re labeled by room. Do. Not. Mix them up. We''ll all be in trouble if you do that. The baskets should be in the hall to the side of the doors. If some aren''t there, make sure you knock on the door. Some of the oldest residents prefer to bring their laundry down by themselves but we have to check. After you''re finished just bring them back down here. I might be busy or not here, so just leave the cart, and then you''re free to do whatever. I''ll come find you when they''re finished so you can deliver the clean laundry back to the rooms." "Will do. Thank you, Sarah." I set off and after about half an hour I leave the dirty laundry in the basement. I go right to the store and swipe my card to get in. It''s like a miniature Walmart. I wave at the cashier and go down the first aisle. After almost an hour of looking at everything they offer, I grab a plain black planner, some colored pens, and a few notebooks. It wasn''t very expensive honestly. I saw a lot more things that I''d like since I won''t get a paycheck until next Friday, I want to be careful. In my room, I sit down at my desk to begin setting up my planner. Monday: Fitness club Tuesday: Job 8am-6pm Wednesday: Game club Thursday: Job 8am-6pm, visitation, therapy Friday: Cooking club, laundry day, payday Saturday: Afternoon outings Sunday: Job 8am-6pm, group therapy I add in other details like phone numbers, addresses, and birthdays in their designated areas of the planner. I also fill out the information about me. I set my notebooks and new pens in a bottom drawer. I set my planner in one of the top drawers and pull out a piece of paper. Dear Tom, First I would like to say thank you for the money you left me. You didn''t have to but again thank you so much. I honestly expected to never hear from you again, so I was surprised when the lady told me you''d be back. You were pretty pissed. I mean you didn''t even say goodbye, you just walked out of the room. I''m really sorry for the way I acted. I can''t say that it''ll never happen again but I promise I''m working to be better. I was so upset over Damon''s newest letter that I completely forgot about mentioning he''s a lying sack of shit. It''s nice to have another person I can write since I can''t contact my parents and I''m too afraid to write Gunter. Betty" After a bit of doodling on the cover of one of the notebooks, Sarah knocks on my door. "Hey, Betty."This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "The laundry is done already?" She laughs as we walk down the hall. "Not yet no. I wanted to eat lunch together!" "Oh. Sure I guess." She claps her hands excitedly. "Have you checked out the caf¨¦ already?" "No, I actually just got a card yesterday." "Oh, can we go? Please! It''s so much quieter and we can get to know each other!" I grit my teeth and force a smile. "Of course Sarah." We head into the caf¨¦ and it seems so much nicer than the cafeteria, not too overboard. I get a half sandwich and fries with a slice of chocolate cake and an iced green tea. Sarah grabs a salad and an orange. We sit down and she starts off the conversation. "So Betty, tell me about yourself? How''d you end up here? How long do you got?" I choke down my bite of food and wipe my mouth. "Well, I have about a year." She stares at me wide-eyed. "Jesus! What did you do?!" "I drove my car while drunk and crashed it. I almost killed my friend, he''s paralyzed from the waist down." "Holy shit dude. Damn, and I thought getting sent here because my brother found a needle and syringe in my room was bad. No offense though, it''s just crazy." I sip my iced green tea. "Yeah. Well." Sensing the tension, Sarah decides to switch topics. "What''d you do before you got into trouble?" "I was in a heavy metal band. Blood on the Sword." She makes a face and I laugh. "Yeah. For a long time, it was Ravenge. I started it with my best friends. I was the lead singer, Damon is bass, Gunther is lead guitar and Tom was drums. We did okay, but not as well as I liked. So I brought in Freddy. He became lead singer, I moved to drums and Tom moved to keyboard. Tom felt out of place in the band after a bit so he left. Freddy somehow convinced me to change the name. Gunther is the one I almost killed. We had a better following after Freddy joined the band, even with the stupid name we got a better following. Freddy kicked me out of the band once I got here. Now they''re signed to a label and just looking for a drummer. I''m proud of them but at the same time, it really sucks that I''m not a part of it. Like really, really sucks." "Wow, your life is insane. I''ve met plenty of celebrities before but you by far have the craziest life I''ve ever heard. Well. For a normal person. Definitely heard some crazier things from minor and major celebrities. But wow your life is wild." I just nod and finish up eating. "So what about you?" "Well. I''m just your basic everyday addict. I was in my older brother''s house after promising to stay clean for the countless time. He came into my room while I was out and found a syringe and needle and now I''m here. He told me if I didn''t stay clean this time he would be done with me." "What about your parents?" "They gave up on me a long time ago. What about yours?" I frown. "Well, they''ve thought Satan has possessed me since I turned 18. When I got here all they did was blame Damon for turning their precious daughter into a monster. And Damon is my best friend. So I got a little angry and stabbed my dad in the hand with a pen in Damon''s defense. They got a restraining order from me." She nearly drops the last bite of her salad. "That''s insane! I mean kind of fair on your parents but your dad got what was coming to him. Was your family religious?" I sigh as we stand up to throw away our trash. "Very. I wasn''t ever allowed to cut my hair. Long skirts, dresses, long sleeve shirts. If you saw me before I was 18, you''d never be able to recognize me." We leave the caf¨¦ and head down to the laundry area. "What changed?" "I met Damon and realized how great it is to be your own person and set your own rules. I wanted to be free. Now there''s nothing wrong with religion or being religious. I just couldn''t have my own voice with my parents. I followed what my parents said, had to and if I didn''t it was horrible. Damon''s parents had a talk with my parents and tried to keep him away from me. Everyone was convinced that my friendship with Damon was the reason I had these new ideas and thoughts. But really I had them the entire time, I was just too scared and nervous to voice them out. The guys took me out for my 18th birthday and everything changed after that. I came home with short hair, rocker clothes, and a tattoo. My parents immediately kicked me out and blessed their house with their priest. You''d think I''m over exaggerating but I''m not." "Wow, you''d have a great origin story if you were still in a band." I shrug. "Maybe I''ll do solo stuff when I get out of here. But that''s a while from now and by then I might have different goals." We reach the basement and being filling our carts with the baskets full of clean laundry. One of the other workers comes up to us. "Ladies. Which one of you is going to deliver the kitchen linen to them?" Sarah looks at the ground and I internally sigh. "I can do it." "You are?" "Betty Morris." "Alright. Thank you, Betty. I''ll let them know that you''ll be up there with their towels." I smile and begin pushing my cart with Sarah behind me. "Thanks, Betty. I hate going into the kitchen past dinner. I owe you one!" With that, she sets her cart in the direction of the men''s dorms and rushes off. Knowing I have nothing to do tomorrow at all, I take my time delivering the clean laundry to the other residents. I drop my stuff off in my room and grab Tom''s letter. I head into the cafeteria with the big load of dish towels and go towards the back where the kitchen is. "Hello? It''s Betty Morris with the laundry." An Irish accent fills the kitchen. "Thank you, dear. Just place it on the counter there." "Okay. Have a good night ma''am." I set the tub on one of the counters and leave the kitchen. Quickly I head to the front desk. The nurse is just packing up. "Wait! Is it too later to give you this?" She smiles. "Take a breath, honey. I''ll put it in the mail on my way out. It just won''t be sent until tomorrow." "That''s fine. Thank you so much."