Every Tuesday, Neo holds group therapy sessions where the residents collect in various circles to talk through their experiences. Dr. Cole says group therapy can help me make friends, which I certainly wouldn't mind. I remember the friends I had before my mom's death, the ones I so carelessly pushed away. I miss having people to turn to. Of course, I have Gray and the two of us ebb and flow like the tides. We have an unparalleled symmetry that soothes me and assures me that we're destined to be together. But I have nobody to talk to other than him. No friends to call on when Gray's at rehearsal or swamped with homework. No friends to gush about boyfriends with. No friends to spend a Saturday at the mall with. No friends at all.

Nevertheless, I'm not too keen on sharing my feelings with a collection of strangers. At least Dr. Cole will be there to run the session, which eases my nerves a little bit. Even so, I'm hesitant to go. To make matters worse, I seem to be lost in one of the many corridors of Neo, searching for the room we're supposed to meet in.

The group therapy session begins at 10 AM, and the clock mounted at the end of the hallway cautiously ticks, the hour hand closely encroaching on 10. I'm running out of time and there's nobody around to help me. Could I have accidentally gone down an abandoned wing of Neo? The hallway is desolate, except for the faint sound of a piano. Hoping to find someone, I follow the distant melody to an unmarked room with the door ajar. Quietly, I tiptoe inside and see a girl, maybe a year or two older than me, sitting at a grand piano. Her fingers glide against the keys with an exceptional concentration, and I'm mesmerized by her talent. She runs through a beautiful slow song that wipes my worries clean from my mind, replacing them with a deep tranquility.

"What'd you think?" The girl asks once she finishes playing. I jump, surprised that she knew I was here. She seemed too intently focused on the piano to notice.

"Are you mute?" She questions after I don't reply, turning away from the piano to face me.

I let out a hurried, "no," before apologizing for bothering her. Yet as I turn to leave, she stops me.

"Hey, don't worry about it! I'm Sabina!"

Sabina rushes up to me and I turn around to face her. Her bubblegum pink hair is pulled back into braided pigtails that match her fuzzy sweater and flowing skirt.

"I'm Paris," I finally reply, "You're so talented!"

"Thanks!" Sabina exclaims with a cheerful smile.

"What song were you playing?"

"'At Last' by Etta James. My uncle taught me how to play it."

I nod before remembering that I'm supposed to be at my first group therapy session right now. Panicked, I look to Sabina for some sense of guidance.

"Do you happen to know what room Dr. Cole hosts her group therapy sessions in?"

"Shit, I totally forgot!"

"What?"

Sabina rushes out of the piano room, her skirt twirling and pastel pigtails shifting as she dances across the hardwood floor.

"I'm late for group therapy!"

"My group therapy?"

"I suppose so. Come on!"

Without hesitation, I follow Sabina down the hallway, the two of us practically running. Even though I'm nervous that Dr. Cole will be mad at us, I can't help but laugh. Sabina turns around and laughs too, the both of us giggling uncontrollably. In the midst of our laughter, I wonder if Sabina and I could become friends. Sure, we can't go to the mall, but we can have our own fun while we're here.

***

We show up at group therapy two minutes late, receiving an annoyed glare from Dr. Cole. Sabina apologizes on both our behalf, explaining the situation. Dr. Cole's eyes soften and I mouth a quick, "thank you," to Sabina, who smirks in reply.

Now that we're all present, Dr. Cole instructs the four of us to situate our chairs in a circle so that we're all facing each other. The only resident I know, Sabina, sits across from me, while the other two residents, Tiff (short for Tiffany) and André, sit between us. André seems pretty quiet, but Tiff can't stop bouncing up and down in her chair. Dr. Cole sits in the middle of the circle where she can easily lead the discussion. I sit back, anxiously waiting for her to begin. Truthfully, I can't wait for this group therapy session to be over. I'm terrified Dr. Cole will ask me a question and I'll fall apart in front of everyone. They'll surely laugh at me or judge me silently. The mere thought makes me queasy, until I look over at Sabina and she's mouthing something. I focus on her lips and hold back a chuckle, "Don't be nervous. I'm probably more fucked up than you." Sensing my ease, Sabina winks and Dr. Cole peers at both of us, noticing our quiet interactions.

"Paris, you and Sabina already seem well-acquainted. That's wonderful!"

I grin and Sabina rolls her eyes, placing her hand over her mouth to hide the smile materializing there.

"Would you like to introduce yourself to the others?"

My stomach drops and I look directly at Dr. Cole, silently wishing I could reply with a heavy, "no," and crawl back into bed. Instead, I huff and open my mouth to speak, but Tiff interrupts me before I have the chance.

"Would anyone like to play a card game?"

Dr. Cole turns to me to apologize for Tiff's sudden interruption, but Sabina waves her away and scoots her chair closer to Tiff, happy to play. Immediately, Tiff smiles and carefully pulls a deck of cards out from her jacket pocket. As Tiff shuffles the cards, she pushes back her long sleeves, exposing the white scars along both her arms. I shudder. From the looks of it, Tiff is only thirteen, maybe younger. How does someone even younger than me end up with scars like that?

During their card games, Sabina treats Tiff like her little sister. Tiff is incredibly talented and beats Sabina every time, maintaining a rigid focus. It contrasts her formerly energetic, scattered energy and opens her up to talking. Without any prompting from Dr. Cole, Sabina asks Tiff if she wants to share anything today. Tiff nods and shares her experience in the foster care system. For years, she moved from one house to another, never remaining in one place long enough to put roots down. She felt powerless, until she started cutting. The repeated motion of the blade running against her pale skin gave Tiff the sense of control that was lacking from her life.

Sabina and Dr. Cole listen intently, clearly hearing this for the first time. André seems apathetic, his glossed over eyes staring at the door. I simply sit there, unsure how to feel. Relieved that I'm not the one talking, but distraught by Tiff's situation.

Sabina asks Tiff if she wants to share anything else, but Tiff simply declares herself the winner of their third card game before packing the deck back into the box. Accepting Tiff's decision, Sabina turns her chair back around. Dr. Cole glances over at Sabina, as if to compliment her on helping Tiff open up, and Sabina nods back, silently pleased with herself.

"Sorry about that, Paris. You may share now if you'd like."

I thought we'd run out of time dealing with Tiff. Wishful thinking. Biting my lip, I work up the courage to share my story. I keep reminding myself that this is a safe space. Tiff hardly talks and neither does André, and Sabina and Dr. Cole are both incredibly supportive. I have nothing to worry about.

"Hello, I'm Paris. I guess you're probably wondering why I'm here-"

"No, actually," André remarks. It's the first thing he's said since we started, and I can't help but laugh at his frankness. Sabina does too, much to the chagrin of Dr. Cole, who simply shakes her head. Pleased by our laughter, André smiles and sits up in his chair.

"I'm just fucking with you," André teases. Our laughs bring the seventeen-year-old out of his shell. He outstretches his arm, prompting me to share.

"Thanks for breaking the ice, André," I begin, smirking at him, "Three years ago my mom died, and everything around me crumbled."

André's smile diminishes, and so does mine. I hate to muddle the cheerfulness, but Dr. Cole encourages me to continue.

"Her death devastated my father and I. He spiraled into drugs. I spiraled into depression. Despondent, I turned away from my friends. I stopped going out. I stopped reading. I stopped caring about school. It was as if all the lights in my brain burnt out, trapping me in the suffocating darkness. Occasionally, a light would turn on, and I would cling to it until it fizzled out again. Then, I met Gray, and everything changed. One by one, the lights switched on again. He brightened my life in ways I couldn't possibly imagine. For a brief moment, I basked in the glow. The darkness was gone. Or so I thought. Gradually, the lights started going out again, and I couldn't take it. I fell into the darkness."

I pause to catch my breath, and Sabina looks over at me with a crestfallen gaze. There's pain in her eyes; the same as mine. It's difficult to believe that under Sabina's witty, buoyant exterior is a mind as dim as mine. Depression is a silent killer. It doesn't show itself with a chronic cough or sudden tremors. It builds to a hushed crescendo before reaching a grand finale. Most don't even notice the signs until it's too late.

"Some days I wake up and my mind is pitch black. Others, there's so much light that it's almost blinding," Sabina admits, tapping her toes against the hardwood floor. I can tell that Sabina spends so much time helping others, she barely helps herself.

"Most days I'm lucky if a single light comes on," André blurts, "I'm supposed to be my parent's golden boy. Varsity football player, straight-A student, and humble son. When I told them I felt depressed, they thought it meant I didn't want those things. The truth is, I've always wanted those things. I still do, but my drive to do those things is gone."

Tears spill from André's eyes, rattling his muscular frame. I offer my hand on his back, soothing him while Dr. Cole grabs a box of tissues. After she returns, Dr. Cole dismisses us for the day. Tiff departs to play another card game with Sabina, but André and I stay behind. We sit in silence, André blowing his nose and me lightly tracing my fingers along his back. Once he regains composure, André sits back up and we pull apart. He looks at me with doe-like blue eyes and thanks me.

"For what?"

"For giving me the courage to speak up. I've never said any of that out loud before."

"You're welcome!" I reply enthusiastically, a gentle smile materializing on my face. I can't believe I helped bring André out of his shell. Who knew that my words could have such an impact?

"Can one of you please tap in? Tiff's beat my ass four times in one day!"

André chuckles as I reluctantly sit up and slip into the sitting room, taking Sabina's seat across from Tiff. She and André dip onto the couch nearby, playing lively spectators as I lose again and again to Tiff, Neo's undisputed card master.