There were only two of us left in the group room and the ten chairs that had been in a circle were now scattered. To my left 15-year old Kenneth* towered over me holding his chair above his head, with huge tears streaming down, his lips quivering, the angriest I had ever seen him. To my right, I could see my co-worker Mark, standing outside in the hall, peering through the small round portal in the door. He was holding his hand to his ear like a phone and his eyes were questioning. We didn’t need to talk for me to know he wanted to call 9-1-1. Read more
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