Chapter 2:
Looking back, you realize that everything would have explained itself if you had only stopped interrupting.
-Robert Brault
"Eeek! You look totes adorbs!" Squealed Leah's little sister, Shae. Shae was 12 and thought shortening words was 'cool'. But in reality, it annoyed everyone around her. Well, everyone but Leah's mom. She thought it was cute and would often encourage Shae to talk like that.
"Thanks I guess.. I just, I don't know if I like it," said Leah as she looked into the mirror. Leah was trying on a purple off the shoulder top with the word "Smile (-:" sequined onto the front of her shirt.
"Well now, don't be a brat! It's a must have. I say you get it!"
Leah's mom nodded in agreement,"Go ahead and get it, and then it'll be time to go to the therapist!"
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"Are things getting better?"
Leah shrugged
"How?" The therapist questioned, scribbling away on her pad of paper.
Leah shrugged.
"Are you eating healthy?"
Leah nodded.
"Are you suicidal? Cutting yourself?"
Leah stared at the therapist, tugging her shorts lower, and shook her head no.
"Sleeping well?"
Leah shrugged.
"Leah you need to talk more. You can't just nod, or shrug. I need some answers. We are trying to help you."
"But that's the thing, maybe I don't need help. Maybe I want to do this on my own. I don't want to tell people my personal business. It's mine. Not yours. I don't need help."
Inside, Leah knew she needed help. Just... She didn't want help. Leah was afraid that anyone she could talk to would think she's just another whiny little brat who needs to learn to deal with her own problems and get a sense of perspective, and that she would be wasting their time. She knew there were so many people out there, with worse problems than her, so why should SHE take up the time of one of a therapist who can help people who need to be in therapy?
"Leah, listen. I'm here for you. I'm your therapist. You can tell me anything! I can help you!"
But that was what she hated most, when people say "I'm here for you, you can talk to me!"
And they don't mean it. They never do. How do you deal with that? She constantly had friends who tell her she could talk to them about anything, they wont judge her, they'll try to understand.. but somewhere down the line they get upset with her and yell at her for it when she tries to explain. With 3 friends this has happened, and then she's in the mindset that you really can't trust anyone, and it's better to keep things in, yet everyone tells you its good to let it out.. If it's so good then why do people hate you for it though?
"I don't need anybody. I don't like therapy. I don't want to be here. End of story." Leah clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Why the hell do I even have to have therapy? Why me? Other people need it more."
"Do you not remember your first time coming into here?" Questioned Katherine.
Once again, Leah shrugged.
"You were 6 years old..." Katherine launched into the story.
Leah was in the first grade when she found out she had anxiety. She was doing work in class, when all of a sudden, a strange feeling came upon her and she burst into tears. Everyone stared at Leah, as the teacher made her way towards the young student. "What's wrong?" People would ask. But Leah didn't know, she had no idea what this feeling was, or where it came from. Leah was sent to the principals office to calm herself down. But she couldn't. She sat there for 10 minutes, sobbing, and gasping for air. The principal came over to Leah and put her hand on her shoulder. "Leah, stop your crying, there's nothing for you to cry about. You need to stop being a little baby." But that only made it worse, for Leah couldn't stop, and the prinici-"pal" had just insulted her on top of things. If she could, she would stop crying.
This newfound crying episode would happen daily. Luckily, Leah was a smart girl and she could manage to miss out on class, but still be at the same level as her peers, if not above. Leah would repeatedly head to the office, her head hung in shame. She was taught crying was something you should not do in front of people, and that going to the principals office was her punishment for doing so.
Finally, one day, they brought the school psychiatrist in. Her name was Mary. Mary taught Leah a few techniques to cope with her crying. Mary worked at a local mental health center, and part time at the school, so she was pretty sure she knew what was happening to Leah. She taught Leah how to make a "worry wort", a little creature made out of a Pom Pom, googly eyes, and random art supplies found around, that helped Leah when she would have a panic attack. She could tell the worry wort all her fears, and what she was scared of, and the worry wort would take her worries, and rid of them. But Leah was smart enough to know this was some psychological trick, and though the worry wort creature was cute, it didn't help her one bit. So Leah was sent to the local health center, and evaluated. Leah was given medication for anxiety and assigned a therapist.
No one ever knew what made Leah cry for a long time. But Leah knew all along. Leah knew what made her cry. Every day Leah would fear one specific thing, that most 1st graders couldn't even comprehend. That specific thing would haunt Leah for the rest of her life, until one day it would consume her. Death.
