Help Me Feel

Help Me Feel - Six Weeks Later

A/N: Yes, this IS the last chapter! Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you liked Andrea's short story, and if you haven't already, feel free to check out my more optimistic works "Just One Night" and "The Game of Temptation".

And remember: If you or anyone you know is suffering from suicidal thoughts, self-harming, drug use, or any other type of depressive behavior, I'll put some numbers and websites to visit at the bottom of the chapter. Thank you.

Chapter 10 – Six Weeks Later.

I look around the room. The nurse told me to start writing down how I came to be here, and now I'm done. I have nothing else to do. I'm surprised they let me near a pen, considering I'm actually not allowed to have any kind of sharp object, including paper, around.

It's all in the name of preventing more cuts. I don't complain, I like it here. I'm probably not going to be able to graduate with my class, but I don't care. School has never been a big factor in my life.

My father has visited a couple of times though, looking shockingly sober. He's told me he'll stay home more, that he's going to his own kind of rehab, since it was either that or jail for practically abandoning me. Since I'm eighteen and they don't know about twelve years ago, they gave him the option. He's doing better, just like I am. My father has said he's going to stop comparing me to my mother, and that he's sorry if the words he said have ever hurt me or been the reason I cut.

I'm sure that's what his therapist told him to say, seeing as mine told me to accept the apology so we can move on to having a better life. I didn't mind. I know me and my father won't ever have a good relationship, because we never really grew around each other. I'm fine with that, I have another family I care about more.

It's not a heartless thing to say, it's honest. The Hemings have been there for me over the past six weeks, alternating visits. They only started a couple of weeks ago, when we found I was improving for the first time. They say I'm doing a great job in recovery, but that I've still got a long way to go. This place is actually very nice, though they make me take anti-depressants. Because according to them, that's why I started cutting. I was depressed. It seems I've been depressed since I was six-years old.

They also told me about my mother. They told me she was bipolar, and she didn't take her medication. They told me this led to harsh switches between moods, and that on the day she committed suicide, her depressive mood set was on high and caused her to do it. I finally have an answer, and it's sad that I still can't be sure whether or not it's worthy of forgiveness. On one hand, it wasn't necessarily her fault, but on the other, she would have been fine if she took her medication.

I wonder over to the little teen area they have and sit on the sofa. I watch television here. I've found a couple of shows I like. They mostly show comedies here, wanting to keep the stress levels of everyone down. I like a show called Friends. It makes me smile, though I still haven't laughed. They say that's because the sounds is so unfamiliar to me I may not be able to properly replicate it or something. I'm not even sure if it makes sense, but they seem to know what they're doing here.

“Andrea?” I hear my name, and turn, seeing one of the doctors. “Brandon's here to see you.”

I smile, stand up, and make my way over to the visitation room. I haven't seen Brandon in a couple of weeks seeing as the family thing he missed for me when I was in hospital was postponed to last weekend.

“Hey!” He greets, giving me a hug when he sees me.

“Hi! How was your family reunion thing?” I ask, sitting next to him on a bench.

Brandon groans. “Torture. All my family complains about the fact that I'm single.”

I frown. “Weren't you talking to Anna last month?” I ask, confused. After I'd been admitted here, Anna had apparently gone to Brandon and apologized for all she put me through. She'd thought I was just being weird, she didn't know it was actually affecting me that badly. It wasn't a good reason, but the fact that she'd apologized made me a little better. I'd told Brandon to forgive her, seeing as I would, and they'd started talking again.

“Yeah, but I don't know if anything will happen with her. She's nice but she's not the greatest person alive,” Brandon sighs.

“Maybe not, but if she hangs around you long enough she might become one of them,” I tell him, honestly. He's a good influence on people, even if he doesn't realize it.

“I don't know. There's a girl in my math class who I might ask out.”

I smile. “Go for it. You never know what could happen,” I insist. “This girl might be the girl you marry. Don't you want to find out?”

He gives me a weird look. “You're going to bug me about it until I do it, aren't you?”

I nod. “Of course. Who is it?”

“Penny Jones? She sits next to me and she's really nice. You'd like her,” Brandon says, smiling. I can see in his face that he really likes her, and shake my head.

“If you like her, I'll like her. You should text her and ask her to go out at some point.” One thing I'd learned since I came here was about living. I'd learned that chances need to be taken, risks need to be made, and all for the purpose of making sure I never looked back and thought 'I wish I'd done this...'

Now I'm telling Brandon the same thing, hoping he learns something from me so I can start repaying him for everything he's done for me since the second he crashed into me.

“I will. But, for now,” Brandon wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “Tell me what you've been up to. Because as fun as it is to talk about my non-existent love life, I want to change the topic.”

That's when it happens. I laugh for the first time in years, the sound something unfamiliar to me, but resounds through my body and makes me laugh harder each second.

“Whoa, that's never happened before! Did I break you?” Brandon asks, panicking.

I can't stop now, tears practically pouring down my face until Brandon starts laughing with me. I can't tell why I'm laughing, but I know it feels good.

When I finally stop, I wipe my eyes, mentally adding this day to the list of things I like, something my therapist told me to do to stay out of depression.

“What was that for?” Brandon asks.

I shake my head. “I have no idea. But thank you, I needed that.”

Brandon chuckles, placing another kiss on the top of my head. “So tell me about your time since I last saw you.”

I smile at him and know he's the reason I'm here, both in this place and alive. I know it'll take a lot of time to get over twelve years of unresolved depression, and I know that in time Brandon may meet a girl and marry her, and that maybe we'll see each other less, but I know that no matter what, he's my best friend, and he always will be.

The End.

For suicide prevention: www.suicidehotlines.com/international.html 

For drug/alcohol addiction help: www.drug-intervention.com

For addctions: www.addictionhelpcenter.com/self-harm/

If you are concerned about being clinically depressed, please visit your local doctor.