2 . help

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Things were improving by the day. Mrs Kim had managed to lure her son into smiling, even for a few seconds. They would cook together, play cards together, Mrs Kim would gossip about the latest show she had watched and etc. Although this whole situation was foreign to the stoical women, she knew that one symptom of depression was any activity that may have previously sparked joy or passion would now trigger nothing. Nevertheless, she kept going. Kept trying to make her boy do something to pass the lonely minutes. And while he would sleep soundly during the nights like Rip Van Winkle, unaware of change around him, Mrs Kim would be researching what he is going through and how to get him out.

A change of scenery was imperative. She too was getting sick off the bustling city and the dark miserable walls choking them. Mrs Kim wanted to travel back to her house in Gwacheon. He could work on her brother's strawberry farm or help her make brownies in their large countryside house! Jin was always a lively boy; he would help around the house with his sister and play in the garden with such happy and content nature. It was not like he refused to help now, rather that he does not see the point of such things anymore. Not to mention his energy was almost non-existent. Simple tasks like washing the dishes would leave him breathless. Additionally, deep down she knew that getting him to do anything he used to do (such as the previously mentioned) would only benefit her. Jin wouldn't feel better, maybe even worse, but Mrs Kim would feel accomplished.

Jin seemed distressed when she slipped the plan of moving into a conversation. He was silent but inside his head fear boiled like water in a kettle. Any form of change was just... just too much for him to handle. All he wanted was to stay at home rotting in bed. It was the easiest thing to do. Mrs Kim wouldn't have that and she packed his bags, ready to travel back to Gwacheon. One more day before they left this stingy place in Seoul and back to their large, brick house with their lush gardens. However, there was one thing she wanted to attempt before leaving...


therapy.


Mrs Kim wasn't stupid. She knew how much therapy helps, but she didn't know how much it would help her son. Would he panic? Would he love it? Does he need medicine or just someone to talk to? Just one session would comfort her immensely. One session would be like a taster, one small push before getting regular weekly lessons back in Gwacheon. After a few attempts, he agreed to give it a shot. That's how Jin ended up being dragged out of bed and to a therapist room where a trained professional was waiting for him.

To say the session was bad was an understatement; it was a nightmare. Jin left the room in tears. Here's how it went...

The therapist straight off the bat made Jin squirm in his seat. He was overly cheerful and uncomfortably touchy, shaking the boy's hand with a strong and dominating grip. He would take him to the chair with his hand on his back and Jin despised it. Already distressed but too weak to fight back, Jin just sat down quickly and fiddled with the strap of his bandages.

The questions started off simple. For example, what's your name? How old are you? Jin would answer quietly. His artistic brown orbs that showed pure nothingness would tremble, focusing on too many objects in such a short period of time just to avoid looking at the man whose gaze burnt holes through him. No words were shed about the topic but it was clear as day that the therapist was judging his scared client that was hunched over with messy hair tangled and sticking out in every direction possible. Another wave of self-hate washed over Jin and the client whimpered into his hands.

"Why are you so quiet? You do realise this is helping you?" The therapist barked.

shrug.

"Whose idea was it to come to therapy? You or your mother's?"

no response.

"Answer me, boy."

"M-Mother's idea..."

"Then don't waste her time! This is money going down the drain if you don't work with me here - don't you want to get better?"

Little did that man know, but those words would stick with him forever... always repeating and forever haunting him. Don't you want to get better? Don't you want to get better? Don't. You. Want. To. Get. Better?

Needless to say, Mrs Kim felt pretty shitty after hearing about what she had done.

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