Don't Care If I Sound Crazy (A Daltiana Story)

~Chapter 119~

a few days later...

"Ariana, I had noticed that Imogen's anxiety had gotten worse and is no longer responding to therapy," Dr. Weaver the therapist said, "I will have to refer her to a psychiatrist because she will need to take medications for her anxiety. I had been working with her for most of her life and realized that her mental health is currently at its worst point. She also admitted digging into her skin with her nails and punching the wall a couple of times due to her anxiety."

"I-I understand," I said quietly, "Is there anything else I can do to help her?"

"Ariana, you have experienced anxiety yourself, and I'm sure you understand what you needed when your anxiety is at its worst point. Try offering her the kind of support you expected when your anxiety is overwhelming you," she said and I nodded. My heart broke for Imogen. It was all my fault that she had to go through all these. She had been hurting herself because of me. Dr. Weaver wrote a letter for the psychiatrist and gave it to me. I thanked her and went outside where Imogen was waiting. I embraced her into a hug as my tears started to fall.

"I-I'm so sorry Piccolina," I whispered.

"Mom, what's wrong?" she asked.

"W-why didn't you tell me you had been hurting yourself?" I asked her.

"Mom, I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to worry," she said quietly, "Please don't cry, it hurts to see you this upset."

"Imogen, it doesn't matter, please tell me if you have urges again," I begged, "I don't want to lose you, you're everything to me."

"I'll try my best for you," she lightly smiled and gave me a hug. "Thank you so much, Piccolina."

"You're welcome Mom," she smiled.

"Can I see your hands, by any chance?" I asked her and she hesitantly showed me her hands. There were cuts and bruises on her knuckles and wounds on her palms in the shape of her nails.

"I'm sorry Mom," she said quietly.

"Don't be, little one, I know it's hard, but please stay strong for me."

"I'll try. By the way, what did Dr. Weaver say?"

"You will need to see a psychiatrist because you'll need medications for your anxiety," I said quietly and her eyes went wide. "W-what?"

"I'm so sorry, Piccolina."

"What if people think I'm crazy and see me differently?" she asked with worry in her eyes.

"Imogen, there's always gonna be people who just can't open their minds, and to be honest, they don't belong in society. These kinds of situations are the kinds of situations where you'll know who your true friends are."

"B-but what if Ben leaves me?

"Do you trust him?" I asked her and she lightly nodded.

"If you trust him, there should be nothing to worry about."

"Thanks Mom, I love you."

"I love you more Piccolina," I smiled.

"Mom, can we just go to the psychiatrist tomorrow instead? I'm tired."

"Sure," I smiled. We went inside the car and drove back home. Once we arrived, we went inside and sat down in the living room where Dalton was, working on his laptop.

"How was it?" he looked up.

"I have to go to a psychiatrist because I need medications for my anxiety," she sighed.

"I'm so sorry little one," he embraced her into a hug, "just know that I'm here if you need any support."

"Thanks Dad."

"What's wrong with your hands?" he frowned, noticing the cuts and bruises on her knuckles.

"I punched a wall during a panic attack," she looked down.

"What had been overwhelming you lately?" he asked her. "Just the thoughts of losing Mom again."

"I'm really sorry Imogen, I really am, I wish I could turn back time and stop myself from doing that."

"You don't have to be sorry, Mom, incidents happen," she lightly smiled. I embraced her into a hug, speechless. She still forgave me even after I put her through hell her whole life. My tears started to fall and she gently rubbed my back.

"Mom, don't cry," she frowned.

"I owe my life to you," I sniffled.

"You don't owe me anything, really," she lightly smiled, "you carried me in your womb for eight months and fought for my life before I was even born when you were attacked by your nasty ex even though it meant you had to get a surgery that left you with a huge scar. You gave birth to me and raised me into who I am today. You stayed strong for me and Dad no matter how hard things get, and that's all that matters."

"I love you so much."

"Love you more, Mommy," she smiled and kissed my cheek.

"You're both really strong women, and I'm more than grateful to have you two," Dalton smiled and embraced both of us into a hug.

"I love you," I mumbled onto his chest.

"Love you more," he smiled.

"No, I love her more," Imogen pouted.

"Nah, that's impossible, she's my wife."

"She's my Mommy."

"She's mine."

"Nah, mine."

"Mine."

"Mine."

"Fine," he pouted, "but you're gonna have to pay for it."

He started tickling her and she laughed loudly. "Stop it!"

"Not until you say I love her more than you do," he laughed. "Um, no."

He started tickling her again and she squirmed around. I giggled. They have a cute father-daughter relationship.

"Okay, okay, you love her more," she laughed and he stopped tickling her and she got up to fix her hair.

"That sounds better," he chuckled.

"Sike!" she laughed and sprinted to her room.

"Hey, that's not fair," he pouted and I laughed. I placed my head on his shoulder and he leaned in to kiss my lips.

"My tiny bean," he smiled and tapped on my nose. I snuggled closer to him and he kissed my head.

"You're so handsome," I complimented and he blushed. I played with his hair and he smiled. He's the cutest.