The Art of Knowing: Prologue

A sigh escapes me as I walk into my office. I pause to stop and admire the diplomas that hand proudly on my wall, I still can't believe I actually did it. I slide off my leather jacket and place it on the back of my leather office chair.

I quickly log onto my computer to check my schedule for the day. A small smile graces my face at the sight of the group therapy session that starts in about 15 minutes, there was just something about this group that felt different. A quick glance around the room told me that the sketch pad, books, and cup of pens, pencils, and other art materials were in place. I had long learned to not lock my door, the last time I did I found one of my clients curled up in a ball with silent tears coming down her face in front of the door. The handle had to be repaired and I ended up having to wrap her bruised hands.

My brisk footsteps fill the empty corridor with sound as I make my way to the room I use for group therapy. I wave my keycard in front of the panel and the door unlocks with a small click. I enter the room flicking on the light, taking in the studio sized room. The room's large size gave an eerie chill because of the daunting silence, but in reality this room is a claustrophiobic's paradise. I set up chairs in a rather large half circle, making sure they were all about four feet apart. 

Soon, all chairs except one were filled with adolescents ranging from ages fourteen to eighteen. I take my seat and softly clear my throat to get their attention.

"So if you don't already know me, I'm Dr. Clarke. You can call me that, by my first name Lucas; you can shorten that to Luke. Erm, you can call me Dr. C, dude, or whatever the hell you're most comfortable with," I said with a shrug although I didn't miss the way some of their eyes widened at my slight use of profanity.

"So how about I get some names and ages?"

A voice spoke up from two chairs to the right of me. "Didn't you already go through our files? What's the point? You probably know about my entire life. I bet you even know what I ate for breakfast this morning." He spoke with bitterness, but the words flowed smoothly like velvet.

I let out a low chuckle. "The only thing I do is to check if I have an equal number of male and females besides that you're all a bunch of strangers," 

The boy let out a low grunt and sunk into his chair.

"Anyway, names! I need names and ages."

A girl on the far end shifted in her seat before speaking. "Abby, fifteen"

"Jason, fourteen"

"Derek, seventeen"

"Hailey, eighteen"

"Kayla, fourteen"

"Mary, fifteen"

"Andre, sixteen"

"Marcu, sixteen"

I couldn't help but smirk, so his name is Marcus.

We began to discuss our likes, dislikes, pet peeves, and I even had them pair up to play twenty questions. I could tell that some were curious as to why I didn't start talking about their problems and the reason why they're sitting in this room. In order to have a safe and healthy environment, I wanted them to get used to each other and not feel like a bunch of strangers who were forced to tell the world about their deepest darkest secrets. Then I sat down and told them about me, answering any questions they had. Somehow we ended up talking about my childhood and what I did as a child. I was careful not to elaborate, the past is called the past for a reason.

The only person who wasn't fully engaging in the activities was Marcus. He sat stiff with a perfect posture, eyes focused on the ground. It seemed like it was routine for him, whenever he caught himself smiling it would be wiped off his face as quick as it came. He'd even made sure his chair was a great distance from the rest of the group.

***

"I'll see you on Thursday," I bid the group a goodbye as I straighten up the room and turn off  the stereo. I check my watch, noticing I have about two hours until my next client and decide to take an early lunch. As I'm leaving the clinic, my eyes zero in a small figure huddled on the curb. The air thickens and clouds begin to darken, signaling the approach of a midday shower.

"Don't have a ride?"

I was met with silence.

"He said he would get me and I actually believed him," Marcus' voice came out in a harsh whisper. I had to strain my ears to hear him over the rolling thunder.

"Who?" I ask, my voice equally low.

"My father, but you wouldn't know anything about that. You sounded like you had the easy life, food always on the table, new clothes, and the best electronics money could buy," He looked up at me, his eyes swirling with too many emotions for me to decipher.

A sharp laugh escaped me; one which held no humor. "Boy are you wrong,"

The sky had opened up. A drizzle quickly turning into a storm.

"How about we get out of this rain and we can just talk. Me and you. Off the record," I suggested.

The small nod he gave me was enough for me to pull him to his feet. I led him to my car and turned the heat on high. The defroster clearing the windshield. Marcus spat out his address, which I quickly typed into the navigation.

"Sorry about your seat," He murmurs with his head hung low.

"It's not a problem, I clean this baby at least once a week. It's hard to break old habits." I said with a laugh as I pulled into the slow moving traffic. About ten minutes I pulled into a Chick-fil-A parking lot, and turned off the ignition.

"Why are we here?" Marcus questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"To get lunch, I'm starving," I said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  I jumped out of the car and made my way towards one of the many entrances, he hesitated before following me inside of the building. The line was short since everyone wanted to go through the drive through due to the rain. I quickly ordered my meal, then turned to Marcus.

"What do you want?" I asked him. His expression would've been comical if it wasn't for the reason why he was with me, the reason why we met in the first place. It took him a moment but he eventually decided on a meal. I paid for everything, not caring that the bill almost came to fifty dollars, but I didn't miss the way he paled at  the price, or the way his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

I dug into my food as soon as the tray was placed on the polished table. Marcus simply sat there and stared at the meal he picked. His eyes flicked up to meet mine then returned to staring at the table with feigned interest.

"I don't know if....I can't pay you back." He stumbled over his words.

"I never said you had to." I said with a smile sliding the tray in his direction.

And finally since the time that I met him, he talked. Marcus was a good person once you got past his scowling face and hard gaze. He reminded me of myself when I was his age; angry at the world and everything in it, so I wasn't surprised when he asked me about my childhood memories and how I grew up. Without holding back, I told him everything.