Brandon didn't know what he was doing here or why his mom was so persistent about him coming to this stupid group therapy session. Though she had promised that it wasn't therapy - after all "the brochure said that it's just a chilled environment for teens to hang out and chat". He had been to a hundred of these before with the same thing plastered across brightly coloured leaflets and near enough all of them had "politely requested" that he didn't return for the next session. It wasn't his fault that he didn't want to sit around and cry about soppy bullshit while comparing how fucked up they all were.

Brandon watched his mom's car pull away from the sidewalk and for a split second he considered ditching group and walking straight over to the pizza place about a block away. Letting out a deep breath, he turned around, deciding that it was probably better just to keep his moms happy. Before he could make his way into the building that he was supposed to be in, a small brunette girl made her way into him.

"Hey! Try watching where you're going!" he spat out.

"Chill man, I could say the same thing for you," she replied, pushing herself away from him, and suddenly he felt a slight twang of guilt in his stomach. Looking at the girl in front him as she adjusted the strap of her backpack, Brandon realised that she must have been around the same age as him but by the way she was dressed, obviously from a different part of town. Her ripped jeans and washed out shirt weren't exactly the smartest looking clothes, or maybe that was just her style.

"Shit," he mumbled as he watched her walk into his building, making his way through the doors soon after her.

He hoped more than anything that he wouldn't meet the girl he had been so rude too again, especially not in a place where everyone's flaws see the light of day. Then she would really see what a weirdo he was. There was something about her though. She stood tall, like she had a purpose - or rather almost like she was ready to defend herself against anyone that tried to give her trouble, much like Brandon just had. He liked that though.

Unfortunately for him, the building was huge. An abundance of offices and intertwining corridors where all that met his eyes when he tried to find his way. When he finally swallowed his pride (and had accidentally interrupted a meeting or two), he realised that he had missed the obvious and the group session for teenagers probably wouldn't be found on the second floor. The directions that he had been given led him straight back to where he started but in fairness, the leaflet never said anything about going downstairs but he probably should have seen the sign adjacent to the front door.

Luckily however, he wasn't late. Everyone was just getting settled in as he arrived. There were only about a dozen or so kids there and it never failed to amaze Brandon that they looked so...ordinary, considering that they were all so messed up in the head. Making his way over to the centre of the room, he picked a chair closest to the exit and perched himself on the edge as if constantly ready to make a getaway. The grey plastic chairs were organised in what looked to be a circle but the lack of organisation made Brandon somewhat nervous.

"Okay guys, is everyone ready?" Brandon hadn't even seen the man there, he could have fit in perfectly had it not been for the slight age gap. He could only have been in his early-twenties at a push. "I see a few new faces so how about for the sake of them we go around and introduce ourselves again. Name, age, why you're here and how you're feeling today."

Nobody moved, the lack of enthusiasm evident.

"Okay, cool, I get it. For the record, I know that some of you guys aren't as shy as you're making yourselves out to be but I'll start anyways," the man started, running a hand through his brown floppy hair. Brandon noticed that it was the only hand that he actually had. "My name is Josh - Joshua, but only my mom gets to call me that -, I'm 23 and I have PTSD. I did a couple of tours in Afghanistan and the second time round my arm didn't come back with me," Josh laughed slightly, motioning down to where his right forearm used to be and nodding slightly to himself. "It's a little hard sometimes but you get used to it, I just thank God that I'm left handed."

Brandon was staring down at his hands, clasping them tightly together on his lap. He had no idea why he hadn't left yet, this was exactly the type of deep sharing crap that he just didn't like to get into.

"Callie, why don't you go next?"

"Um, sure," Brandon's head shot up quickly at the sound of her voice, it was the brunette from the outside. "My name is Callie Jacob, I'm 16 and I've been in more foster homes than I've had hot meals. I haven't been put in the best positions when it comes to them so I guess that's what landed me here," she made a slight waving gesture with her hand before sitting back down.

"Thanks Callie, anyone else?"

Brandon tried to catch her eye, staring over intently until she looked up. There was something captivating about her. When she realised what he was doing she simply scoffed slightly and raised a questioning eyebrow. He quickly looked back down at his hands - he was going to have to show her that he wasn't the asshole that he had made himself out to be back on the street.

"What about you pretty boy?" Josh smirked teasingly and gestured for Brandon to stand up.

He had to stop himself from making a snide remark back at the young man, he wanted to at least try and behave himself this time round. He had something to lose this time. "Hey, I'm Brandon and I'm 16. I'm here because my mom is a cop and she's good at peer pressuring her kids into doing things against their will and because my other mom decided that her child psychology degree wasn't enough to treat her PTSD ridden son, so here I am," he said before glancing over at Callie. "I'm also not very good at making first impressions, so sorry about that."

Brandon sat back down, becoming more comfortable in his chair and sitting back slightly. He barely acknowledged the slight praise he had gotten from Josh for "almost sharing", having not broken eye contact with the brown-haired girl across the room since he had aimed his last comment at her. She knew what he had said wasn't for the sake of sharing and she smiled slightly. He returned the gesture.

The rest of the session seemed to go quicker than the ones that Brandon had attended before, not that he spent much time engaged in the conversation - stealing gazes over at Callie when she wasn't looking as she consumed his thoughts. It wasn't until Joshua looked at his watch and declared that "that's us for today" and that he "hoped to see us all next week", that Brandon snapped out of it. He had decided that he was going to try and talk to her afterwards and redeem himself for his earlier mistakes but as soon as he stood up, she was gone. It was like she had vanished into thin air.

Sighing slightly, he made his way to the stairs. I guess I'm coming back next week then, he thought.

The mid-summer sun of San Diego was shining down on him when he exited the building. It was a lot cooler inside for sure. He almost didn't expect his mom's car to be there when he got out, she was usually late in picking him up - sometimes things got hectic down at the station. Maybe this time he was just late in getting out, distracted perhaps.

"So B, did you share?" the blonde woman asked hopefully, looking over to her son as he got into the car.

"Yeah, it wasn't bad," Brandon said, ignoring the surprised look that his mom gave him. Callie. He was going to have to remember that name.