Submerge

DR. HENDERSON

M A S O N

The days had been a blur since the night at Mia's party when I'd taken that small white pill. The immediate relief had been intoxicating, but as the drug's effects waned, reality came crashing back, harsher and more unforgiving than before. I knew I was treading on a treacherous path, but I couldn't deny the temptation of that temporary escape.

Today, however, felt different. It was a bright and sunny afternoon at school, and as I sat alone on the cafeteria bench, picking at my food, I couldn't help but notice Mia's infectious laughter drifting over from a nearby table. Her friends, including Ethan, were gathered around her, engaged in animated conversation. There was an air of camaraderie and warmth that drew me in like a moth to a flame.

I watched them interact, their smiles and easy banter creating an atmosphere that seemed worlds away from the darkness I had been mired in. It was as if they held the key to a world I had long forgotten existed.

Ethan, who had caught my eye at Mia's party, was sitting there, his hazel eyes reflecting a sense of genuine warmth as he laughed at something Mia had said. He noticed me watching and flashed a friendly smile in my direction, one that held an unspoken invitation.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered what little courage I had left and decided to join them. As I approached the table, Mia's eyes lit up, and she patted the empty space beside her. "Mason, perfect timing! Come join us."

I slid into the seat next to Mia, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Her friends turned their attention toward me, their expressions welcoming and curious. Mia introduced me, and the atmosphere remained cordial, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was an outsider intruding on their tight-knit group.

Ethan, however, seemed genuinely pleased by my presence. "Hey, Mason, good to see you again," he said, extending a hand for a friendly handshake. "Likewise," I replied, shaking his hand. I couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch, which sent a comforting shiver down my spine.

The conversation flowed effortlessly as we discussed school, hobbies, and the upcoming basketball game. Mia's friends were easygoing and inclusive, and it didn't take long for me to feel like I belonged.

Ethan and I found ourselves sharing a laugh over a particularly embarrassing incident from last week's game. It was a story that had me blushing with embarrassment but laughing along with the others. There was something about Ethan's presence that made it easy to open up and be myself.

As lunch continued, Ethan and I found ourselves engaged in conversation, discussing everything from favorite movies to our shared love for skateboarding. It was as if we had known each other for ages, and I couldn't help but feel a growing connection.

"You skate, too?" I asked, genuinely surprised. Ethan nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, been doing it for years. It's like therapy for me. Clears my mind."

I couldn't agree more. "Same here. It's like the world fades away when I'm on a board."Ethan's hazel eyes sparkled with a shared passion. "We should hit the skate park together sometime. It's always more fun with a buddy."

I felt a warmth spread through me, a sensation that had been missing from my life for far too long. It was a simple invitation, but it meant the world to me.

As lunch came to an end, I realized that something had changed within me. Despite the lingering aftermath of the Oxytone and the darkness that still lurked in the corners of my mind, I had found a glimmer of light. Mia's friends, and especially Ethan, had welcomed me into their circle, offering me a taste of the warmth and camaraderie that had been missing from my life.

As I walked away from the lunch table, I couldn't help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.

**

The lunchtime connection with Mia's friends had left me with a glimmer of hope, a sense that perhaps there was still some light left in my life. As the school day progressed, that newfound warmth stayed with me, buoying my spirits even as the remnants of the Oxytone's effects lingered.

But, as the clock ticked away the minutes, I couldn't escape the knowledge that I had a therapy session scheduled for the afternoon. It was a ritual I had come to dread, a weekly ordeal where I was expected to confront my demons.

I entered the therapist's office, the familiar smell of leather-bound books and soft classical music playing in the background. Dr. Henderson, a middle-aged man with a gentle demeanor, sat across from me, his notepad ready. It was a room that had seen countless sessions, a place where I was supposed to find healing.

"How have you been since our last session, Mason?" Dr. Henderson inquired, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I hesitated, my reluctance to open up evident. Sharing my thoughts and feelings had always felt like an insurmountable challenge. "I'm managing," I replied, offering the most neutral response I could muster.

Dr. Henderson nodded, his expression understanding. "It's okay, Mason. We can take it one step at a time. Your progress is important, and I'm here to support you."

As our conversation continued, however, Dr. Henderson's tone shifted. He started probing deeper, pushing me to discuss topics I had been avoiding. And then, like a dark cloud on the horizon, he brought up my sister's death.

"How do you feel about your sister, Mason?" he asked, his gaze unwavering.

My heart clenched at the mention of her, a well of emotions rising to the surface. "I miss her," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. The wound was still raw, the pain still unbearable.

Dr. Henderson leaned forward, his eyes searching mine. "Tell me more about her. What happened?"

The floodgates of my emotions burst open, and suddenly, I was transported back to that fateful night. The memories washed over me like a tidal wave, the guilt, the despair, the feeling of helplessness. I could feel my hands trembling, my breath growing shallow.

I tried to speak, to put into words the overwhelming grief I had carried for so long, but the words caught in my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision, and I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of emotions.

Dr. Henderson continued to press, his questions growing more insistent. It was as if he wanted to rip open the wound, to expose the festering pain I had been trying so hard to hide. The room began to feel suffocating, and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.

And then, in a moment of sheer panic, I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed my chair back abruptly, the screeching sound echoing in the room. I stumbled to my feet, tears streaming down my face, and without a word, I bolted out of the office.

I ran down the corridor, my vision blurred, my chest constricting with each breath. Panic seized me, and I couldn't stop the onslaught of memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. The world around me felt distorted, distant, as if I were trapped in a nightmare.

I burst out of the building and into the open air, gasping for breath as I leaned against a wall. My heart pounded in my chest, and my limbs felt weak. It was as if I had been transported back to that night, to the darkness and despair that had consumed me.

As I huddled there, trembling and lost in the grip of a panic attack, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of isolation. The lunchtime connection, the warmth and camaraderie I had briefly experienced, now felt like a distant memory, a flicker of hope in a world that was still overwhelmingly dark.