Cᴀsʜɪᴇʀ-Gᴇɴᴍᴜɪ

ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪssᴜᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs

Warning: angst

I decided to get therapy. I had trouble with my mental issues and mother issues, and I felt like I was losing control. I would've died if my mother smashed another alcohol bottle on me, but I escaped and hopped on my bike as soon as I could.

I got some cuts and scars on my arms, and I hide them with my sleeves. I always wear this light blue baggy shirt outside so people don't question me about how bloody my arms are.

My mother became an alcoholic when I was 5, and that continued on to now. I'm 18, but I know how to live like that. I'm used to all of it.

A couple hours later, Dr. Maki the therapist, and I had a small conversation until this is where it got uncomfortable for me. She asked me to share my story without fear of judgement.

I swallowed hard, and I started fidgeting with my hands. "I've been struggling with food."

"That sounds incredibly difficult, Muichiro." Dr. Maki nodded, with an expression filled with empathy.

My head tilted, confused on why she said 'incredibly' even though this has been going on for years of my life.

"You've taken a brave step by reaching out for help."

"I feel like I'm losing control," I confessed.

"You're not alone in this, Muichiro." She gave me a reassuring smile. "Together, we can work through these challenges and find healthier ways to cope. Are there any other challenges you've faced?"

"My..." I paused, trying to hold back the tears that were swelling in my eyes. "My mother issues."

"Tell me about the relationship with your mother."

"It's complicated," I admitted. "She always drinks alcohol."

"What does she do while she's drunk? Dangerous things? Harmful things?" She asked curiously, her eyes widening by the information.

"Smash alcohol bottles at me." I replied without hesitation and I exhaled sharply, anger rising in me because I'm explaining it all over again like it's a dream.

"I see..." She nodded, her face showing me that she feels a bit of sympathy. She sighed. "Can you show me where your scars and cuts are?"

My eyes widened and I gasped at her question. My sleeves were the things that covered my scars and cuts, so nobody would see how bloody they were. My hands gripped onto the top of my sleeves tightly, and I slid it up so she could see. Her eyes widened, and she got out of her seat to take a closer look.

"Do you have any bandages?"

"Muichiro, I'm here to help you." She gave me a reassuring smile before walking to the cabinet and grabbing some bandages.

sᴏ ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ sᴏ ɪᴍᴀ sᴋɪᴘ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴀʀᴛ

I looked at the clock while I was sitting on my bed, and I noticed it was 12:00. At that time, that's when my store opens.

I hopped onto my bike and started riding, my legs unstoppable from petaling.

I promised my manager I would double my work.

—————

"Hey." I waved, opening the back door and entering the counter.

Someone entered, white shirt with blue stripes, fat, and a black mullet. How cool is that?

"Alrighty, what could I get for you? Donuts?"

"What do you have?" He asked, taking his money out.

I turned around and put on my gloves. "Uh, there are some tags that you could probably read..."

"Could I have a classic glazed donut?"

"Heh..." I let out a chuckle, taking the donut out. "Donuts... best things in the world, huh?"

"Definitely." He nodded, while scoffing.

I took out a box and placed the donut in it. "Here or to go?"

"To go."

"The next time you come here, you could get twice as many!" I joked around. My head twisted to the sides to see if anyone is watching. "Here ya go, you have a nice day now!" I gave him the donut box.

Customers kept coming and I was tired. I wanted to go.

Of course, the clock hit 6:00, and I'm done working here for the day. I took off my apron and hung it up on the hook at the back and I saw the little office my manager was in. I opened the back door and my manager quickly followed me.

"Ay, Tokito." He called.

"Mm?" I turned around and my hands laid on my bikes handlebars.

Yes, again, he followed me out the store to tell me something.

"Don't joke around with the customers anymore." His voice was stern, and his face was ᴠᴇʀʏ serious. "The customers love you, but this is serious."

I swallowed hard and I slowly nodded. I hopped on my bike and didn't dare to say goodbye.

I was biking home, and I held back the tears that wanted to come out.

I kept thinking about father, and my vision was getting blurry. I fell off my bike, and the concrete scratched my knees. What the fuck? My eyes widened after realizing, I forgot my helmet, my gloves, and my kneepads. "Shoot..." I whisper-yelled in frustration, biting my lip so I could hold it back. I checked my pockets and I remembered my therapist gave me some bandages, but after I put them on my arms, that was it, she kept them.

I groaned and I went on all fours on the street. I was so frustrated that I forgot cars were driving past me. I wiped my tears and saw a car pull up and open the car door, but I didn't dare to look up at the person. I didn't focus on my safety, I was hurt, overwhelmed, tired.

"Tokito??" Someone called, running over to me. They scooped me up so easily and I gave them all of my consent to carry me into their car.

Minutes later, I looked up. The boy who keeps coming to my store... a black mohawk... great style in clothes. He loves watermelon, and he shouted at me for accidentally not giving him a fork.

"Genya?" I whispered. No wonder why...

"Why were you in the middle of the street?" He asked with a hint of worry. "A car could run you over."

I sniffed, and my head laid on the seat. I was laying down because I was tired. "I... fell."

What a stupid reason. He wouldn't understand.