"i know you hate the therapist, tyler, but you have to go." his dad spoke to him.
"i don't want to." tyler argued. "i'm not crazy, and one car accident won't affect me to the point you think it has."
"but it really has... can't you see it?" his dad grabbed his arms gently, trying to get to him. "you're constantly in your room; i don't know the last time you smiled. you need the help whether you like it or not."
tyler stood there with his arms locked and crossed, unable to convince his dad otherwise.
//
"have you still been dealing with hallucinations at all? or things you cannot explain?"
"no." tyler said quietly, sitting in a chair facing two people; a therapist and a doctor.
he wasn't sure if he was lying or not.
"major migraines still? or have they subsided at all?" the doctor questioned.
"i guess." tyler scoffed.
"tyler," the therapist shifted in his chair and leaned forward, clasping his hands tightly. "i understand what happened has drastically changed your life, but it has been years. it must be even slightly easier to talk about now."
he sat there in silence, not wanting to be there any longer.
then, suddenly, he snapped for the first time.
"yeah, because losing my mother and sister just gets easier. it's not like there's a constant emptiness inside you, along with the dread of walking around an empty house where we all used to laugh and enjoy meals. it just all goes away with simply talking, because that's all depressed kids need. forced conversations."
it was silent.
that was the most tyler had ever spoken in that small room.
and just like that, he stood up and left the room with no other words. his dad was waiting in the car outside, sitting on his phone behind the steering wheel.
tyler opened the door angrily, jumping in and not speaking.
"your appointment ends at five?" his dad asked, raising an eyebrow.
"i'm done." tyler huffed.
"well, okay." his dad responded.
they drove back home.
//
