08-31-2013, 11:36 PM
The van had arrived at The Program building. Ryan was brought inside and wasn't surprised that the inside was just as dull as the outside. They gave him a tour of the building. Most of the rooms in the building were small 10x10 bedrooms - each shared by two people, since they followed a buddy system. The bathrooms were public, and split by gender. There was a cafeteria, a hospital wing, a common room, and a few therapist offices. The final place they brought Ryan to was his bedroom.
"Your roommate's name is Dave. He's been at The Program for about a week now. His old roommate just completed The Program. We will be here later today to bring you to your first therapy session." The female who had been showing him around explained. When Ryan went inside the room, she walked away.
Dave was a scary thin, 15 year old boy with a bright red mohawk and lots of piercings. He smiled when he saw Ryan, "You must be my new roommate. She likely told you my name is Dave. What's yours?"
Ryan looked around the room. The walls were white. The floors were white carpet. It was pretty much like that throughout the building. The furnishings in the room were simple: a bunk bed, a TV, and a small cabinet filled with very plain clothing. Ryan replied to Dave, sounding quite disinterested, "Yeah... I'm Ryan."
"Nice to meet you. I don't already know you, right?" Dave laughed.
"No... No, I've never met you before." Ryan gestured to the bunkbed, "Do you sleep on the top, or on the bottom?"
"Top." Dave said, climbing up onto the top bunk and looking down at Ryan. "You'd probably break the bed if you were on top. I'd rather not be crushed in my sleep. You work out a lot, I'm guessing?"
Ryan smiled a little, "Yeah. I try to stay in shape. I play football. Fullback."
"Cool. You'll probably be working out even more here. There isn't much to do, and most other teens here keep to themselves."
"But not you?"
"I try to stay positive. It's not easy, I'll admit, especially since I was depressed coming in here. I tried to kill myself. Qwik-Death, you see. My parents walked in and saw me on the ground, foaming at the mouth. They called 911, I had my stomach pumped, and then I was taken here. What about you? You don't seem like the depressed type."
Ryan shook his head, "I'm not. I'm here because I beat the sh*t out of a kid, and then after he was healthy, I punched him in the face again."
"Ow, coming from you, that must've hurt him pretty bad. You won't punch me, right?"
"Not unless you call me a poor, working-class idiot and try to steal my girlfriend from me." Ryan said, sounding angry just thinking about it.