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Y/N HAD BEEN ENDURING HER MOTHER'S SILENT TREATMENT FOR SEVERAL DAYS AND WEEKS, and the tension in their home was palpable.
Communication between them had become scarce, reduced to mere snippets of conversation during car rides or other unavoidable moments. Each morning, as she awakened, Y/n couldn't help but feel like she was emerging from a cloud of smoke that hung over her household.
She reluctantly made her way to the bathroom, her reflection in the mirror revealing the daily routine that had become a lifeline for her: taking her OCD medication. She had been on these medications since the tender age of nine, a time when it was challenging to definitively diagnose her condition. Nonetheless, Y/n exhibited all the classic signs of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
Her memories from that age were hazy, but what she did remember was that the world seemed to move at a pace her mind could never quite match and she had been diagnosed with depression severe after confessing that she was going to kill herself so she was put into medical care.
The fear loomed large that if she fixated on the smallest details, she might inadvertently trigger a catastrophe. If she paid too much attention to her diet, she might be unable to eat again; if she focused on her breathing, the terrifying thought of suddenly ceasing to breathe haunted her.
Unfortunately, the medications prescribed to manage her condition exacted a heavy toll, draining the happiness of her life. Her mother, in particular, seemed to harbour resentment towards her, viewing her as inherently flawed, unable to control the turmoil within.
The most trying aspect of her condition, however, was the bouts of depression brought on by the medications.
These episodes left her feeling utterly drained, devoid of the will to eat or sleep. She would lie in bed for hours, waiting for the relentless passage of time. It had reached a point where Y/n no longer fought against the emotional breakdowns that plagued her; she merely retreated to the solitude of her room to weather them in isolation.
Despite the darkness that had settled over her life, Y/n was fortunate to have someone who never allowed her to go a single day without his presence. Seated on her bedroom floor, legs crossed, she found solace in painting on a blank canvas that had been tucked away in her room. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the night sky outside, offering a glimpse of light amid her struggles.
Her door handle jerked upwards before multitudes of knocking followed suit. She knew who it was, "You ready?" Lip asked, opening her door and walking in before noticing her on the ground and not inside of her bed.
"For?" Y/n stood up from the ground and brushed any paint that was on her hands onto the pants that were already messed up in the first place.
Lip walked more into the room pointing down at the ground at what she painted. "You've been doing that all day?" A small response had come from her mouth nodding her head and sitting on her bed. He wasn't shocked by her answer causing him to continue on. "The trains, I thought you agreed to go with me since we haven't had a moment"
