It Hurts

Im drowning

Every time Evan cried, reached, or searched for a solution, all he came up with was an empty feeling in his heart. Each waking hour, day, moment, it became heavier and heavier. Breathing became a chore and sleeping was the last relief, as few as it was. Anxiety seeped into every move, action, and feeling he could muster. Even in the darkness of his bed, he was left with his thoughts analyzing the actions he held.

So it shouldn't have been that surprised when his mother caught him kicking out the chair from under him. He could still feel the scream that burst from her lungs when he felt pressure enclose his throat.

His heart thumped against his chest, and the air left his lungs, yet no regret came. It was almost as if he was eerily calm.

The first incident he had been a sobbing mess, almost regretting his actions, but as the feelings did not go away, he found himself more frequently reaching for the easy solution.

Rehab was not the easy solution.

It was raining, light sprinkles, too soft to need the window wipers, too consistent to see perfectly. Sort of like Evan.

His mouth twisted in a pout, his belongings in a turquoise suitcase that did not help his anxiety level. His foot was almost shaking and his hands were close to bleeding. He picked and prodded at his nails, bitten to the beds.

Looking over at his mom, she stood there at the wheel with a steely glaze, glassy eyes, and stiff arms.

"Mom," Evan started, but Heidi was having none of it.

"You're going." She cut him off, pressing the gas peddle a bit harder.

"I don't need rehab," he spat.

"Evan," his mom sighed exasperated, "we aren't having this conversation again."

"But-"

"No."

They didn't talk for the rest of the ride. Evan is too bitter, Heidi too remorseful.

It was 2 hours away from home, the closest one they could find. Heidi would have to take even more shifts just to afford the new bill from Evans's living fee. So he was sure this would be the last time he saw his mom for at least 2 months. His fingers were red from the constant pressure to withhold his chewing mania, and his eyes were puffy from emotional shock.

A week after the incident his mother approached him about the topic, and then signed him up anyway.

He was not amused.

They couldn't seem to stop having arguments in the car ever since.

Approaching the horrid building, Evan laid his eyes on white-bleached concrete, fences all around, and cheesy paintings on the walls.

It looked like a prison.

It was a prison.

He crossed his arms and shrunk into himself. He hated it already, he tugged at his hair to rid the pressure in his chest, pulling until it felt like it was coming out.

"Stop." His mother tiredly pleaded her voice horse and lost from their screaming matches.

"No," Evan rebelled, anger laced in his words, tugging harder.

"Please," her voice cracked and well, Evan was always a mommas boy. The anger quelled and he sighed.

"Please don't make me go." He asked one last time, no yelling, no crying, just a request.

Heidi paused for a long time, just the two of them staring at each other, both of them looking so tired.

"I can't." She finally said, and Evan just nodded.