Will it be ok?

~Broken lip~

April 13, Saturday afternoon

The week passed by so quickly that I found myself sitting in the same seat as last week, my next and probably last therapy session. Mom Always got mad with how long it took

I found myself more anxious than last time, and I didn't even realise how hard I was biting my lips.
.
.
.
Suddenly I felt blood flowing inside my mouth, and it caught me completely off guard and made me stop what I was doing. Shoot, why does blood taste so... ew...

Suddenly, my therapist burst through the door, looking a little bit messed up. "I am so sorry for being late, I hope you know it was an accident-" Her sentence came to a stop when she saw that I was currently bleeding from my mouth. "Shoot, what happened?"

I shrugged as I covered my mouth. "Ok, hold on, let me find something to help with the pain." She then completely disappeared and came back with lip balm. "Put this on your lip. Ointment is good for your lips." She handed the lip balm to me. I carefully put the non liquid ointment on my lips as she pulled her clipboard. "Alrighty then, let's get started. How was your week?" She asked as I handed her lip balm back.

"Nothing much.." she grinned as I started rubbing my wrists. "Have you been using the journal?" I looked down on my palms and nodded. "Ok so let me get back to the thick of it, your mother has cancelled any lessons with me so this one might be the last one I get with you, I have a homework for you," She continued "So I want you to find something, anything that reminds you of your father, a letter, something special to him, it can be anything. I'm like you in a way Hazel, when my mother died, she left back a little nutcracker that she got from her father and it helped me have closure with her even if she wasn't here."

Have I become the therapist?

"Even if it isn't much to you, maybe it can help you find a conclusion or ending to what pain you have been through." My eyes grew rapidly, and I felt as though I wanted to cry.

"The trauma will never leave, but closure can help you heal from it." She said,
"I guess I can try.."

She grinned. "Even if this might be the last time we see each other, I still want to help you somehow. Here.." she handed me a piece of paper with a number on it. "If you ever have bad thoughts or really need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to call me." My heart sank.

The woman who was more of a mother than my own, I will never see again.

Tears spilled down my face, and I tried to hide it with my sleeve. "Cry it all out." She patted my back as I sobbed.

Once the therapy session finished, I stepped out of her office with red eyes. The doors swung open as my mom's car was parked in front of the building. She looked mad. I threw myself into the seat next to her. The backseat had cloth bags with groceries inside of them. She threw me a look as she started the car. "How was work, mom?" I asked as I turned on my phone, but she stayed silent.

How can my mother expect me to love her if she throws me her attitude like I did something to her? She's acting like I'm the reason he's dead. I hate it when she does that.

We drove back home, and she forcefully shoved the cloth bags into my hands. She stormed inside of the house and probably checked through the fridge.
I put the groceries on the table as mom grabbed milk, eggs, flour, and other ingredients.

Was she making a cake or something...?

Once I put the groceries into the right places, I made my way upstairs.

My blue wooden door with the word "Hazel baby" from when we moved to this house. I was 5 when dad asked me what colour I wanted for my door, and blue was the colour I decided on. We carved it in there without telling mom, and to this day, my mom is still mad about it.

I pushed the door open and took off my shoes. I walked over to my closet and opened it. Revealing a hoodie that Penelope gave me once when it was raining and I forgot mine. She never asked for it back, so I kept it. The hoodie was oversized, which meant to this day I could still wear it. I swung it over my head, and the smell of cherries reached my nose. One thing I loved about her is that her scent never fully leaves.

'Trauma never leaves,
but closure can help
you heal from it.'

Her voice rang inside of my ear.

Dad didn't leave anything behind....right?

As that thought came to my mind, all of a sudden, I raced down the hallway until I reached the attic. I climbed up and slowly walked over to the boxes that mom put up here.

Inside one of them were just old pictures, papers, and Yada Yada. In one of the books, I found money.

1300 dollars? It's my lucky day.

Looking through once more, I see one of those Matryoshka dolls. Dad never told me he had one of these dolls. Once I opened it, a piece of paper fell out. Curiously, I picked it up. I read it quietly before realising how bad his case was.

《Dear family》If you found this letter, then I'm probably gone. I don't have a great reason for doing this in the first place, but it's a personal deed. My whole life, I've been told to 'man up' and 'boys don't cry', which led to me either being called gay or never being able to express any emotion. Also, ever since the covid pandemic, money has been tight. My bank account is at an all-time zero. My wife knows how to do things, and I'm still here with mental problems . The worst thing is that she even says that stuff to me whenever we fight. I want the best for my daughter. She came out to me last month and to me only. And I am so sorry that the only person you could trust with this secret had to be me. I love you very much, sweetie. I just can't take this anymore. It stresses me out, and I fear that I might be making the wrong decision, but if life is gonna treat me like some monster to be kept under control. Then fuck life.Yours truly.Mr. Rain.《Is this how I will end up like?》