watch your back (cameron dallas)

5

The next few days pass painfully slow as I've locked myself in my room, rarely coming out to use the bathroom. The morning after I pushed my mother, she came into my room and told me she had made an appointment for me with a shrink that following week; but that wasn't what I wanted to hear.

My mother didn't address the issue that happened the night before, even when standing in the exact spot that it happened. She didn't ask me why I did it. She didn't tell me everything was going to be alright. She didn't tell me she knows I didn't mean to lay a finger on her. But most importantly, she didn't tell me that she forgives me.

I was up all night, tossing and turning on my tear dampened pillow wishing for my mother's understanding. I hoped that after she slept on it, she would wake up with fresh eyes and see that I would never purposely hurt her – but she didn't. How am I supposed to ever forgive myself if my mother doesn't forgive me? How am I supposed to believe I'm sane when my mother doesn't?

Those questions haunted me until Wednesday, when my mother came in and told me my appointment with the psychiatrist was in an hour. She forced me to shower and eat, and when we arrived 10 minutes late I was expecting to hear her harsh words about me needing to be more time efficient – in fact I was looking forward to it. Though the words never came, my mother held the same blank expression she had been giving me all week and my heart sunk. Why is she treating me so horribly? It was just a little push, and she was the one who snuck up on me. I don't deserve all the blame.

I got out of the car, and looked at my mother who was still sitting in the driver's seat. Was she going to come with me?

"I'll be back in an hour. Make the most of this appointment, I mean it Rosetta." My mother said before driving away, leaving me standing there clueless and lonely; physically and emotionally.

Fifteen minutes later I found myself deep into conversation with the shrink, Dr Hardy, letting my anger and harsh words out into the open air.

"She's treating me as if I'm insane! All I did was push her, accidentally might I add, because I wasn't sure who was touching me. She should take some of the responsibility too!" I yell, knowing that later I will regret saying these words; but I just can't stop.

"I understand that. But Rosetta, I talked to your mother on the phone, she said she came into your room because she heard things shattering and breaking. When she got there, she saw that you had aggressively flung everything off your desk, and in attempt to calm you down she gently held your shoulders – and the next thing she knew she was on the ground. Why were you so angry in the first place?" Dr Hardy asks, and red is at the rim of my vision, my anger fighting to take over.

You want to know why I was angry? Because someone is trying to make my life miserable, and look where I am now. They've succeeded.

"Excuse my abruptness, but it's none of your business, either of yours." I say in a harsh tone, referring to my mother.

"I see we've found the source of the issue," Dr Hardy says with raised eyebrows, and I shake my head and clench my jaw. What is it with shrinks, anyway? They think they know everything, it almost makes me want to laugh, Dr Hardy has no idea what he's in for.

"If you say it then it must be true!" I say sarcastically, but then instantly regretting my brattish behaviour. What has gotten into me?

"Sorry." I say quietly, realising how crazy I must sound.

"Don't worry about it. What are you thinking right now?" he asks.

"How crazy I must sound." I say my thoughts, with a dry laugh at the end.