Therapy

Chapter 1: Awakening

Chapter 1: Awakening

The sterile smell of antiseptic fills my nostrils, sharp and overwhelming as my consciousness begins to flicker back to life. It feels like waking from a long, deep sleep—one that wrapped me in layers of darkness, cocooning me in a silence that was both comforting and frightening. A mechanical beeping pulses steadily in the background, and I struggle to grasp the reality around me, feeling the weight of my body pressed against unfamiliar sheets.

I blink my eyes open, the bright white light above blinding me momentarily. Shadows dance in my vision as I try to focus, panic surging through me when I realize I'm not in my room but in a hospital. The memories flood back, jagged and painful—last night's binge, the bottles, the desperate need to escape, the sirens echoing in the distance.

"Claire?" A soft voice breaks through the haze, drawing my attention. A woman in scrubs stands by my bedside, her kind eyes studying me with concern. "Can you hear me?"

I open my mouth to respond, but my throat feels raw and parched. I try to nod, but my body feels heavy, unresponsive. "W-water," I croak, my voice barely a whisper.

"Of course, sweetie. Just a moment." The nurse pours a small cup of water and carefully helps me sit up a little, supporting my back with a pillow. The cool liquid feels heavenly as it slides down my throat, washing away some of the dryness.

"Thank you," I murmur, feeling a sense of vulnerability wash over me. The nurse offers a gentle smile, then checks the IV drip connected to my arm.

"You've been in a coma for the past two weeks, but you're awake now. You're safe here." The nurse's voice is soothing, but I can only focus on the weight of my reality. Two weeks. That means two weeks of nothingness—two weeks lost to my reckless escape.

"Why am I here?" I ask, my voice steadier now, though the fear creeps back in. "What happened?"

The nurse hesitates, a shadow crossing her face. "You... you took an overdose of alcohol, Claire. Your family brought you in after they found you. The doctors were worried, but you pulled through."

"Pulled through," I repeat, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "So I'm in a hospital because I was stupid."

"No," the nurse says firmly. "You're here because you needed help. It's not about being stupid; it's about healing. You're going to get the support you need."

I look away, staring at the pale blue curtains that surround my bed. The familiar sting of shame settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe. "What happens now?" I whisper, fighting back tears.

"We'll monitor your recovery closely for a few days. Once you're stable, we can discuss a treatment plan. Your mother is here, and she's very worried about you."

My mother. The mention of her makes my stomach twist. She's always been the one to push me to do better, but I've only pushed her away, burying myself deeper in my own despair. Would she still want me? Would she even want to see me after everything?

"Can I see her?" I ask, my heart racing.

The nurse smiles gently. "I'll go get her. Just hang in there."

As the nurse steps out, I close my eyes again, letting the memories wash over me—the laughter of friends that feels like a distant echo, the emptiness that follows their departure, and the comforting numbness of the bottle. I thought I was escaping, but now it feels like I've only run into a dead end.

Footsteps approach, and I open my eyes again. The door swings open, revealing my mother, her face a mask of anger and disappointment. My heart sinks.

"Claire," she says, her voice sharp as she crosses the room, hands on her hips. "What have you done?"

I flinch at the accusation in her tone. "I—"

"Don't you dare try to explain yourself. I'm beyond furious with you. You could have died!" Her voice trembles, a mixture of rage and sorrow swirling in her eyes. I avert my gaze, unable to meet the disappointment that is etched across her face.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words feeling hollow. "I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean what? To ruin your life? To hurt everyone who cares about you?" Her voice cracks, and I feel the weight of her anger like a physical blow. "This isn't just about you anymore, Claire. You're going to your aunt's house to get the help you need. I can't do this anymore."

The thought of being sent away to my aunt's home feels like a fresh wound, one that will only deepen with each passing moment. "Please, Mom, don't—" I start, but she holds up a hand to silence me.

"No. You need to understand the gravity of what you've done. You need to see that this isn't just a phase or a mistake. You're going to face the consequences of your actions."

My heart sinks, and tears threaten to spill over. "I don't want to go. I just need a chance to explain—to fix this."

She shakes her head, her expression hardening. "You need more than just words, Claire. You need to confront this darkness and find a way to heal. Maybe your aunt can help you do that."

Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words. I feel a deep sense of shame and regret, but more than that, I feel the gnawing fear of being sent away, of losing the last threads of connection I have left.

"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "I'm scared."

My mother's expression softens for a moment, and she steps closer, placing a hand on my forehead. "I know you are, but I can't watch you hurt yourself anymore. You need professional help, and you need time away from everything that led you here."

"Mom," I whisper, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks. "I can change. Just give me a chance."

"I hope you can," she says, her voice softer now but still firm. "But I can't do this for you. You have to want it. You have to fight for it."

As she steps back, the finality of her words sinks in. I feel lost in a sea of uncertainty, caught between the girl I was and the person I need to become. The road ahead feels daunting, but deep down, a flicker of determination sparks within me. Perhaps this is my chance to truly confront my demons, to finally seek the healing I so desperately need. But as the darkness looms, I realize I will have to fight harder than ever before.

AUTHOR TO THE WORD

Yup, hellooooooo.

Actually I couldn't help but think of "You could have died!", in the harry potter series.
Remember?

I actually write this story, because I want everyone to know that animals, like horses, and family can actually be a great help if you're depressed, sometimes animals more as anyone else, they never judge, they listen, care about you, love you, are so loyal to you. 

Should I continue this story? 

<3

J. R. Smets