She sat, staring at her phone. It would be at least another hour before her mother got home. Her stomach turned. She sat alone, downstairs on the couch. Her siblings still didn’t know about it. She had been pretending for too long. Her friends were of no help. None could help her know what to say. None could help her do it. She had to do it by herself. Her legs were numb from sitting with them tucked under her. It was freezing. Her breath was hot from the cold she had attracted previously. Her body was stiff, and on fire. The cold outside air blew past her as she sat by the windows. Would her mom help this time? Last time she talked about it, her mother didn’t believe her and dismissed the issue. It had been worse this time. This time she had no power to fix it. She had no power left in her to stop it. Events from previous days had taken away all of her rationality. She knew that it was now or never. As her mother arrived, she decided to tell her. Everything. There wasn’t anything she could leave out this time. The one thing that held her back was the doctor. There was something terribly wrong about his guy. Her mother says that she hates him. She won’t let her “beloved” daughter alone with the man. If he didn’t act like a pedophile, then she didn’t know what did. That doctor made the girl uncomfortable, and yet she still had to go there every time she was in need of a doctor. Last time she went to him for this, he diagnosed her with severe depression and anxiety, yet he didn’t do a thing about it. No medication. No referrals. The girls sat, waiting. 45 minutes to go. Her gut clenched worse then she had felt in a long time. The depression had finally taken over.
