The rehab center was worse than Ritchie had expected. It was a large white, one story building with a brightly colored sign that said Help is Here.
“What a cheesy name.” Ritchie thought. He got his blue duffel out of the trunk and stormed inside hoping his father wouldn’t try to keep up.
The inside was worse than the outside. It looked like a hospital, with white and pastel everywhere. There was an office to the left of the doors and two hallways leading in opposite directions. Ritchie suspected the one to the right led to the cafeteria as he could hear the sound of clanking silverware. Straight ahead was a large white wall where a bunch of paintings and drawings were taped. Some, Ritchie had to admit, were excellent. Others looked like they were done by children. Once inside he was met by a large black woman.
“Hi, my name is Lilian, you can call me Lily.” For some reason Ritchie couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes in this place.
“I’ll show you to your room.” she said and started down a corridor to the left.