Labyrinth | ✓

t w e n t y - s i x t h ♂

A/N: Another random drawing xD

***

Blur.

Ever since that car incident on my way home, everything went from vivid to an instant blur. In this case, it wasn't because there was accumulating fog on the corners of my sight, but because of time. It sped up rapidly, I wasn't able to catch up with reality at all, so I was left there with vague clues of what was happening next.

All I knew was Father had sped up his car fast while trying to calm me down. When we arrived, he pulled me towards the door, where Mother had waited. Along with her, they helped me walk up to my room, and there, I heard her comforting voice as they set me down to my bed.

Some unknown entity probably had a remote on his or her hands. He decided to click on the play button, ending the fast-forwarding time. Everything slowly returned back to normal, and there I was, lying on my bed with a cold, handkerchief on my forehead, facing the ceiling. Simultaneously, I tried my best to push the thoughts about that guy away.

It was just my mind tricking me...

There's no way he would do that... besides, why would he...?

He doesn't even know me...

Clearing those questions away, I breathed heavily and turned over to my side, seeing Mother and Father conversing to each other, as I heard their obscure voices. The latter sounded stern as he told her something. While so, her piercing gaze briefly flickered at me before looking back at Father.

"He seemed to get a lot better than when Mrs. Wilton called us. It's obviously due to a lack of sleep," Father's words were finally distinct enough for me to listen, "but we still really need to contact Christopher's therapist again. He had been showing the same, exact symptoms over these past few days, and if I remember, they were just like months earlier."

"Yeah. I think the reason why he's lacking of sleep is because... of these things..." Mother pondered, before she eyed at me with a worried but stern look. She proceeded to sigh with frustration. "I told you, Ed. You shouldn't have quit your therapy session too quickly just because you think you had recovered. Be more patient and take your time. This kind of process might take longer than you thought, but this is for your own good."

In spite of my dehydrating throat that caused my voice to crack, I forced myself to speak out. I have my rights to decide, and besides it was me who had this condition, not them. Therefore, I should be the one who decide whether I should go visit the therapist or not.

And I picked the latter.

"I don't want to." I muttered loudly, covering my entire body but my head underneath the covers. Hearing this made them appear like as if they just witnessed a bloody murder, especially Father.

"Wh... What?!" He exclaimed, standing straight up. "What do you mean by that?!"

"When I said I don't want to, then I don't WANT to." I grumbled, emphasizing on one word.

"...Would you mind explaining your reason why, Christopher?" He incredulously asked, raising his tone as to intimidate me. "Didn't you see how concerned your mother and I are about your mental condition? Not to mention, those symptoms you have had been showing so much, and without a therapist's help, it would gotten a lot more worse!"

"It did get bad, but I'm strong enough to handle this all by myself!" I answered, realizing that my tone was in par with Father. Despite so, it was true. I had been managing all those shit by myself. Now, I still can survive going through those episodes even without a therapist.