The Lost Ones

Chapter 2

Chapter 2- (Theo).

It's dinner, but I'm not eating. My mind is far away from food. I just play around with the peas in my plate, using my fork and hope it'll be over soon.

"Theo, it's time to talk." My mom says, dropping her spoon on the dining table. We never talk. I'm not close to my mom. She always seemed kind of stuck-up. Living with my dad was easy, he understood me, at least I thought he did before he sent me to live with her.

"Talk about what?" I say in a bored voice.

"You."

"What about me?" My heart races.

"I know what happened is still bothering you." She says. "I've been watching you and— Theo, I'm worried. I see you sitting alone all day, thinking to yourself and I don't know what to do."

Let's talk about anything, anything in the world but that. I'm not ready yet.

"Mom, I'm fine." I try my best to make my voice sound okay. I try my best to make sure my voice doesn't sound like I'm crumbling inside.

"You always say that. But Theo, you aren't. Sometimes I hear you scream at night and I don't know how to feel knowing that my son is in pain and there's nothing I can do to help." She says. My hand holds my fork tight. I'm trying not to lash out.

My mom doesn't care about me, she never has. Sometimes I go a year without seeing her. And now she's pretending like she cares. Nobody does.

"Mom," I say firmly. "I'm fine."

"Stop saying that!" She says. 

"Why do you care all of a sudden?!" I raise my voice too.

"I've always cared—"

"No you haven't. You've never been there for me so just don't act like you are now." I say.

I know I'm getting defensive now, but there are things I don't tell my mom. I don't want her getting worried. She doesn't need to know that I can't sleep at night because I keep getting nightmares, she doesn't need to know that anytime I feel nostalgic, I feel like bursting into tears. She doesn't need to know how I feel like destroying everything, especially myself.

She doesn't need to know how much I hate myself.

She doesn't say anything. I think I've touched a bone. I get up on my feet to leave before things get worse but she cuts me to it.

"You should see a therapist," she says. "It'll help you."

"Mom, seriously I'm okay, I don't need to see anybody to talk about anything." I say. "I'm getting better, seeing a shrink will make it worse."

"Theo, you don't talk to me, you don't talk to your friends anymore, you have to talk to someone about what happened. I don't want to watch you waste away your life... your dad and I have talked about it, and we think it's for the best."

"I don't want to talk about it, please don't make me." I plead, using the voice that always work with my dad. But it apparently doesn't work for my mom.

"I'm sorry, it's for you own good," she says. "You'll get better in no time."

"I'm not sick!" I yell. "I can't believe dad would do this."

"He ca-" she starts but I cut her off.

"Yeah, yeah, he cares about me." I roll my eyes.

"You are seeing the therapist Theo." she insists. I have no choice in the matter.

I leave her and stomp angrily to my room. I haven't finished unpacking yet, my room is still plain. There are cartons everywhere. I can't bring myself to open one, but if I don't now, my mom will force me to later.