Madness by Zac Brewer

Author:Zac Brewer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Boardwalk is mine. You’re goin’ down, doc.” I moved my little thimble gentleman onto the coveted blue property and held out my hand.

“Don’t be so sure. You underestimate the value of well-placed hotels on cheap properties.” He handed me the property card. He sounded pretty sure of himself, despite the fact that I also owned Park Place. At least I was getting better at playing Monopoly. That much he couldn’t deny. “So how are you, Brooke?”

Five sessions in, I’d finally come to the conclusion that I liked the doc. Talking about stuff was still difficult, but it was getting easier. Much easier on this day—a day there would be no tears or pain. “Weirdly, I’m really happy, doc. Makeup crew’s been going well the past few weeks. My grades are getting better—well, except for AP History, but let’s not open that wound. And I’ve decided I truly actually like folding origami cranes. The whole process of paper folding is cool. I checked out a few books on origami. Might try something more complex soon, y’know?”

He nodded and rolled the dice, a contemplative look on his face. He got a six and started moving his race car across the board. “That all sounds great. It’s nice to hear you’re getting out there and moving forward. Are the cranes helping?”

“When I first started folding them at home, I thought a lot about Joy. Remember? The girl who killed herself while I was inpatient?” I raised an eyebrow at Dr. Daniels and he nodded in response. I didn’t usually talk about Joy. But today I could. Today was different. It was an up day. “I thought about how the inpatient staff all gave us these cheesy ideas about how to save our own lives by folding birds out of paper and how it wasn’t enough for her. I really resented them for that. They told us to use origami as a distraction from our suicidal thoughts. When I started making them at home, I’d make one every time I thought about dying. I have hundreds now. They hang over my bed.”

The race car came to a stop on Free Parking, so the doc collected the four-hundred-dollar pot from the middle of the board with a smile. Then he handed me the dice. “Are you concerned at all that you might be feeding your urges to harm yourself? Are they a reminder of your suicide attempt?”

Shaking my head, I dropped the dice on the board. “Not anymore. I’m making them for a different reason now.”

“And what’s that?”

I moved two spaces and cursed under my breath. It never failed. Every single time I landed on a space between Go and Jail, I ended up paying rent to the doc. “I fold an origami crane every time I think of a reason to live. Even if some of those reasons might seem like the same reason.”

“What do you mean?” He looked at me thoughtfully and reached for the dice. Almost as an afterthought, he said, “You owe me rent, by the way.

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