Bad Intentions

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"She's not getting better." The doctor said.

"Well, no need to sugar coat it." I replied crossing my legs in the chair I was in.

"You've been through this, all of you. I don't think there's anything else I can do." She says.

"There's gotta be something. Treatment? Rehab?" I suggest.

"I bring back to the table neurosurgery." She says opening the folder in front of her.

"No, that is not an option."

"We can keep her here in the mental unit."

"My mother is not crazy, she's sad."

"Your mother has multiple personality disorder, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, depression and narcissistic personality disorder. That's just the front page." She says.

"You can't just up her dosage?" I ask.

"Your mother is lucky to be alive. I'm surprised she is still alive. She refuses to talk during therapy. One little thing can tip her off the edge and it'll be two years ago a over again."

"She'll be fine. We are all fine. Everything is fine. Up her dosage. She'll see her therapist next week." I said.

"I think you should probably think about my neurosurgery offers. They may help."

"She's going to be fine. Thank you." I said standing up and walking out of the office. I walked and sat in the bathroom locking the door behind me.

"Damnit!" I shouted smacking the sink. Tears slid down my face dropping on the cold marble.

"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" I shouted. My words were spurred by my tears as they came rushing down my face. I opened my backpack and dug around for my phone. I called Ethan.

"Peyton, hey, how'd the meeting go?" He asked hopefully.

"Are you alone?" I asked him. I heard shuffling and a door shut.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"They say mom's lucky to even be alive. They can't help her. They want to do the surgery." I said.

"Then let's do the surgery." He said.

"No! We aren't doing that. Those are fatal, that can kill her." I argued.

"These diseases can kill her. Peyton, mom is sick. She's sick and she needs help. If she had cancer would you give her the surgery?"

"Mom is fine. She's not sick."

"That's not up to you. You can't decide whether mom is sick or not. If you love mom and you want her to get better. At least learn more about the surgery. Just consider it. You are her main proprietor. You've got to sign off. It's on you how this turns out."

"Are- are you trying to fucking guilt me into letting doctors drill into our mothers head? Sorry for not wanting my mother to be a brain dead zombie! God damn Ethan you'd think that someone who was given up by their birth parents would understand how badly we need our mom. You know that without her we'd be right back in that foster home. You know what it's like to be unwanted. Why do you want to hurt the only woman who wants us?" I asked. Tears blurring my vision.

"Don't act like the victim here, God this is just like you. This isn't about you or me or Quinn or dad. This is about mom. Mom is dying. Mom is dying. Get it through your thick skull. Mom is already dying inside. All we have left to do is blow her away and she's gone. This surgery might be able to save her. Stop playing the victim and grow up and save her." He said. I hung up throwing my phone in my bag.