A gift to my sister

Darius’s P.O.V

Sitting on the patio, numb, depressed, and confused. The only sound that I could hear was that of the crackling fire in the fireplace and that of my heart thumping hard in my chest.

It was pounding in a way that felt like blood rushed into my ears as the doctor’s words replayed in my head.

A mental disorder that he couldn’t even understand.

Fear clawed at my throat, my knuckles turning white from the way my fingers were clenched. I could hear voices laced with mockery, it felt like the walls were closing in on me and something dark awaited to swallow me.

My muscles tensed and slowly, tears rushed into my eyes, threatening to spill onto my cheeks as I dashed away a stray tear with my thumb. My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest, my heart running with a myriad of emotions that I couldn’t even pinpoint.

I couldn’t just fathom how I had a mental disorder.

I ate pretty well, never indulged in hard drugs, and took good care of my health so how in the wo