Therapy

Chloe

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my back from sleeping in an uncomfortable position all night. Well, it was a bathtub after all. I went into my room and took a quick shower, trying not to stare at myself for too long.

Dwelling on my appearance only brought tears to my eyes. Shaking away those thoughts, I slipped into an outfit, let my hair down from the ponytail, applied a minimal amount of makeup, and left the house. As usual, there was no one home.

I hailed a cab and settled into the backseat, attempting to relax as it drove through the busy city streets. I watched as the rush of commuters filled the roads, businessmen and women hurrying to get to work on time. The streets were crowded, and a heavy sigh escaped my lips.

The cab pulled up in front of my destination - the hospital. Looking at the imposing building before me, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. I glanced around the crowded waiting area before making my way to the reception desk.

"Hi," I said shyly, brushing some hair out of my face. The lady behind the desk turned towards me, her friendly smile putting me slightly at ease.

"Hi, sweetie. What can I do for you?" she asked kindly.

"I'm here to see my mom," I replied, mentally cursing myself for stuttering. Her smile remained, and she typed a few things into the computer in front of her before looking back at me.

"Room 137," she said, and I nodded gratefully. I walked straight over to the elevator and waited for it to arrive.

I felt a presence beside me and turned to find Jake standing there, looking at me apologetically. I looked away, focusing on the elevator doors. Right on cue, the doors opened, and anxiety swirled within me.

Questions and scenes played out in my head, and I forced myself to bring my mind back to reality. I stepped into the elevator and quickly pressed the button for the floor. But despite my attempt to keep Jake out, he still managed to get in. I groaned internally.

"Look, C, I'm really sorry," he said, standing right in front of me. I kept my gaze down, unable to process everything at that moment.

I knew he was sorry. But I didn't know how long that remorse would last before he betrayed me again. I simply nodded, my response lacking words.

"So, are we good?" he asked.

I pondered for a moment, not wanting to respond verbally. I didn't want to stumble over my words like I always did. Part of me wanted to curse him out, but I lacked the courage.

"Yes," I finally replied quickly, glancing up at him. He smiled, coming closer and embracing me tightly.

I hugged him back, but the attraction I once felt had faded. There were no longer any feelings attached to his touch. He had hurt me, betrayed me more than anyone else on this earth ever had. And here I was, hugging him like a complete fool.

But that's just who I was. I couldn't hold onto anger, and I hated making people feel bad for their mistakes. So I would overlook it and forgive them. I kept forgiving until they completely ran me over and treated me like garbage.

But I would still remain kind-hearted, always finding a way to make someone feel better. Because not having someone there when you needed them the most was devastating. The elevator doors opened, and I quickly pulled away as I saw an elderly couple waiting outside.

My cheeks flushed, and I stepped out before walking briskly down the hallway. Knocking on my mother's door, I entered her room and gave her a small smile. She lay in the bed, surrounded by tubes and wires. It broke my heart to see her deteriorating.

"Hi, Mom," I greeted, going over to her bedside and sitting down. I took her hand in mine, and she looked over at me, her smile brightening at the sight of a visitor in this lonely place.

"Hey, Baby," she said, gasping for air between her words. It pained me to hear her struggling.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

"Like... shit," she joked weakly, and I chuckled softly. But behind her words, I sensed the weight of her condition.

"You'll get better," I said with a smile, trying to offer her reassurance. But deep down, my soul cried. She noticed the sadness in my eyes and shook her head.

I got up and lightly adjusted her pillow, fluffing it to make her more comfortable.

"I won't," she struggled to say. "I feel my time coming nearer."

I frowned, disheartened by her lack of optimism. It was unlike her to talk this way. But being in a place like this for almost a year, I could understand why. The room fell into a comfortable silence as I allowed her to rest. The more she spoke, the more breathless she became.

"Have you found a boyfriend yet?" she asked hopefully, and I sighed.

"No, Mom. I don't even have friends anymore," I told her, immediately regretting my words as I realized it would only stress her out.

"What happened?" she asked, turning onto her side to look at me properly.

"It's nothing. Don't worry," I smiled, trying to ease her concern. She playfully narrowed her eyes at me.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked.

"I have therapy in a few minutes. I can skip it if you want me to stay," I offered, hoping for a chance to spend more time with her. But she shook her head.

"Go ahead. I'll be okay," she said weakly. I sighed, getting up slowly and placing a kiss on her forehead. I caressed her cheek with my thumb for a moment, and she laughed softly.

"I'm supposed to do that to you," she said, and I giggled. She was right. She had always done that for me as a kid, whether it was at bedtime or during a tantrum.

"Bye, Mom," I said, with sadness in my voice. She smiled back at me.

"Bye, Baby," she whispered.

I left her room and continued down the corridor, anxiety gnawing at my conscience. I silently thanked God as I spotted the familiar building of my therapist's office. I entered and took a seat in the waiting area, anticipating the call for my session.

The room was spacious, with only a few other people waiting. The walls were painted in a vibrant pink color, and the furniture ranged from black to lighter shades of pink. The therapist emerged from her office, and when she saw me already waiting, she smiled.

She gestured with her hand for me to come over, and I reluctantly did so. Dragging my feet toward her, she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and led me into her office.

"We have a shared session today," she informed me, and I pursed my lips in response.

"Why?" I asked, curious about the change in approach.

The therapist sighed, realizing the weight of my words. "I can only imagine how difficult that must be for you," she said empathetically, jotting down notes. "The uncertainty and sadness surrounding your mother's situation can undoubtedly take a toll on your emotions."

Hayden, who had been silent until now, leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. His gaze shifted between the therapist and me, his expression unreadable.

"You're right, it's messed up," I continued, the bitterness seeping into my voice. "I try to stay positive, but it's hard when you know the inevitable outcome. It's hard when you see her deteriorating, and you feel so helpless."

The therapist nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's important to acknowledge and express your emotions, Chloe.

It's okay to feel anger, sadness, and frustration in this situation. Remember, you don't have to face it alone. Reach out to your support system, whether it's friends, family, or even support groups. It can make a difference."

I looked down at my hands, my nails digging into my palms. "I don't have much of a support system anymore," I admitted quietly, a pang of loneliness gripping my heart.

Hayden's eyes flickered towards me, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of something softer in his gaze. It was fleeting, but it gave me a sense of comfort in that moment of vulnerability.

The therapist leaned forward, her tone gentle. "It's important that you don't carry everything on your own. Maybe even a Support Animal could help you."

I nodded, absorbing her words, though the weight of my circumstances still weighed heavily on me. Hayden shifted in his seat, uncrossing his arms as he seemed to be paying more attention to me than the current conversation at hand.

"You know," She continued. "Sometimes it's the people you least expect who can surprise you. Don't completely shut yourself off from the possibility of finding support in unexpected places."

As we delved deeper into the session, exploring coping mechanisms and ways to navigate through the challenges, I realized that despite the pain and uncertainty, there was still a glimmer of hope.

And perhaps, with time, that hope could grow and provide the strength I needed to face the fucked-up reality I found myself in.