Sugar Coated

Cece slouched slightly in her chair. It wasn't very comfortable, only half an hour and her butt was beginning to ache. But she forced herself to tolerate. She had to be here.
To get well.
For a while now, Cece became the very thing her mother, father, school officials and church group warned her about becoming;
an addict. 
She never thought she could succumb to such a low standard, she thought it impossible.
Until that fateful day, when her strength was truly tested, when everything changed.
She looked around the brightly lit room, took in it's dull, toupee colored walls, bland, fake flowers in an obviously plastic vase placed atop a bookcase that looked like it was shelved with junk than books, and all the eclectic faces who were in the same boat as her. They all sat in a wide circle in the middle of the boring room, each person more different that the next. Man, woman, tall, short, kid, adult, black, white. 
But all were more guilty of the abuse than the next.
Cece pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, and turned it on to check the time. 
Fifteen minuets after six. She grew frustrated that the counselor was so late. 
"Golly wally jeez Louise!" Exclaimed the person across from Cece. A big guy who looked middle aged. "Where is this so called counselor! Gosh, I could have fit in one more taste if I knew she was going to be so late." He crossed his arms over his big chest and leaned back with a pout on his face.
"I-I hope nothing bad happened."  A quiet voice came from two chairs down from Cece. A girl, who looked about Cece's age, looked like she was being swallowed by her frumpy, blue sweater. She pushed her spectacle glasses back on her face and tucked a few stands of her burnt, brunet hair in back of her ear. 
Cece knew she had to be here. She willed herself to attend. But a good part of her wanted to be home, alone in her room, digging into her stash. Her sweet, sweet stash.
"Whoooooo! Sorry I'm late." A woman bellowed as she came through the door. "Traffic on a Friday, am I right?"
The woman came in full view for every one to see; tall, skinny, dark brown skin that seemed to glow along with her yellow sweater, and long, curly hair that fell down to her mid-back. She sorted through a few papers, laid them down under her chair, and took a seat. A clip board in one hand, a pen with a pink feather ballpoint in the other. 
"Ha." She took a quick sigh. 
"Well, good evening everyone." She said brightly. The group responded in a strong, monotonous tone only groups could pull off. 
"I'm Dr. Aja Gerald, and I will be your counselor. Better yet, think of me as your guide through your profound journey to becoming.....well again. Now, along with my medicinal and dietary studies and practice, I'm also trained in psychology. So I know the inner-workings of what you're going through. Your addiction is one-hundred percent psychological, and I'm here to help break the major bind your addiction has on your mind." She looked around at each face, her warm, brown eyes eager. 
"So, how about we start by introducing ourselves, and then relaying the story of how you became addicted, just to break the ice. And after you say your name, state your addiction. We're all dealing with the same problem here, no one will judge. Who will like to go first?"
For a brief moment, everyone looked around at each other to see who will volunteer as tribute. Being the first in these situations can be very awkward. Knowing this, Cece became annoyed and raised her hand, wanting to get it over with.
"Aw yes." Dr. Gerald said. "And what is your name, dear?"
Cece took a deep breath, and stared past everyone else staring at her, almost like they weren't there.
"My name is Cecilia Dean, my friends call me Cece, and I'm....." She gulped and took another deep breath. ".......I'm a........
Sugar addict."
Dr. Gerald nodded as like she was agreeing. "Okay Cece. So, how did you get hooked on sugar?"
"Well, it happened two years ago, when I first started high school. High school is a big step, ya know? Luckily, all my friends from the eight grade were moving up with me, so I wasn't alone.
Um, it was lunch period, and my friends and I decided to eat outside. After we finished eating, one of my friends pulled out a bag of M&Ms. We were all stunned to see it.
"Where did you get those?" I asked.
"I got a hook up." He said. "Ya want some?"
Most of my friends refused, but I was so intrigued.  I remembered my parents warning me about this, how they taught me to say 'no.' But, I...I was so curious.
So, I held out my hand, and he poured the colorful pieces into my palm. I began to shake a little as I held a piece up to my mouth, then pop it in. The chocolate began to melt against my tongue, and it was like an awakening.
And, that's how it happened. Now, I can't go a single meal without having something sweet afterwards. I can never turn down the cookie samples at the grocery store, I have a stash of fun size candy bars underneath my bed. I know the risks, but I didn't care. 
I hit rock bottom a few months ago, eating pure sugar by spoonfuls from the sugar dish. That's when my parent's fully realized my problem, and that's when I did, too. 
I need help. Serious help."
Cece sat back down, feeling like a weight has been lifted. She knew the others were staring at her, but she didn't care. Dr. Gerald was writing something down on her clip board, her pen moving effortlessly. Then she finally looked up at Cece.
"Oh Cece, you know how much bravery it took to tell your story? Hopefully now, everyone else feels a little more comfortable talking about it." She looked around the room again. No one's expression changed, but there was a shift in tension. 
"Alright, who would like to go next?"
For the rest of the evening, everyone told their story of how they got hooked on the sweet stuff. The big guy who complained earlier became smitten when one of his co-workers sneaked in cake. The girl in the frumpy sweater's brother, who was dealing illegal sweets, was captured when she found his secret stash by accident. 
As Cece listened to each story, only one thought came to mind.
This is ridiculous.