American Sweethearts

18

I stick my head through the crack in the door, eyeing the room. There's only a handful of people inside. Most are sitting down in the circle of chairs, but there's an older woman standing at the food table in the back corner.

The room doesn't look like the other ones I've been in on campus. It's surprisingly colourful. Almost like a preschool classroom.

"Hey there," the woman says. "Come on in!"

I smile at her, taking a step into the room. The others turn to look at me, but there are only three people. Two guys and one girl. I join them in their circle, but there are only two seats free. I sit beside one of the girls and try to make myself comfortable. I dump my bag on the floor, cross my legs, and softly scratch the skin on my hand. I avoid eye contact with the others, focusing my attention on tapping my foot to the song in my head.

One other guy enters the room, filling up the seat on my other side. Soon after, the elder woman joins us.

"Welcome everyone," she grins. "I hope you've all enjoyed the first few weeks of classes. This group will be running until the end of the semester, including the final week of exams. Just so we all know we're in the right place, this isn't alcohol anonymous or anything like that. It's Trauma Recovery Group, but we usually call it TRG. Everyone here for that?"

I nod my head slightly. The others do too, and no one gets up to leave. Looks like we're all here for the same reason.

"Perfect," the woman continues. "So, we'll begin with introductions, and I'll start. My name is Margaret, and I'm a counsellor here on campus. You can usually find me at student services, where you can walk in wherever you need to talk. I also host a range of support groups, and this is one of them. Now, how about you guys tell me a bit about yourself?"

She nods at the girl beside her, encouraging her to introduce herself. The first thing I noticed about her is how skinny she is. She's basically just skin and bone.

"Hi," she smiles. "I'm Katie. I just transferred here from New York. I'm a history major, and, uhm.... Do I have to say anything about why I'm here?"

"Not at all," Margaret says. "You can if you want to but there's no pressure. Although I do encourage you to share, I understand that not everyone is at that stage just yet, so every week we'll have an opportunity to share."

"In that case, I'll pass," she responds, glancing at the guy beside her."

"Yo, I'm Shaun," he says. "I'm a freshman. I haven't really decided on my major yet but I'm looking at chemistry. I'm here because, I witnessed a murder a few years ago, and it made me terrified of death."

"That's understandable, Shaun. Thank you for sharing," Margaret nods, then turns to the guy next to him. The guy next to me.

"I'm Angus," he says. "I'm an English major, and this is my second time in this support group. I was diagnosed with PTSD after surviving a school shooting in my senior year."

"Thanks, Angus. I'm glad to see you decided to come back," she smiles, and turns to me. Any heart thumps in my chest.

"Hi," I say. "My name is Sarah. I just started here, but I'm hoping to major in either music, or biology. I, uhm, yeah..."

There's no way I can talk about what happened. Not yet. I can barely even talk about it with Quinn. Or my parents, for that matter. I wouldn't even be able to explain how I feel.

"I'm Steph," the girl beside me says. "I'm in the final year of my philosophy degree, and I just got out of an abusive relationship. Margaret recommended I come here, so... here I am."