Author's Note: Littttttttttt I randomly just got really inspired to write another chapter. I've known the plot of this chapter for a long time but never had the motivation to write it. Buuuuuuut, here I am! I wrote it! Sorry it took so long. I just finished a whole week of mid-terms. I'm officially on break so you can expect at least one more chapter before I go back to school. Thank you all SOOOO much. Your support is incredible.
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Months passed. I graduated high school, but didn't even remember half of what happened that day. I couldn't remember much of anything. Days blurred together. I was depressed. Now, I spent most of my days in my room, in my bed. My dad knocked on the door before he came into my room. "Hey, Charlotte." he smiled, sitting down on the end of my bed. He placed one of his hands on my feet that were covered by a mass of blankets. I hadn't felt warm since the day my mom died, ironically. I looked at him and waved. "How are you doing?" he asked.
"Fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Why?" I asked, bitterly, scrolling through my phone so that I wouldn't have to look at him.
"You've barely left your room since you've graduated. Are you just having withdrawals from high school or is it because of your mom?"
"What the hell do you think?" I asked. I knew I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't the only one that was suffering. He had to have been feeling just as bad, if not worse than I was. That was the love of his life, after all. I couldn't imagine that. But then again, she was sort of the love of my life too...
"I'm sorry for asking, Charlotte. Maybe I could call the place downtown and get you set up to start going to see a therapist. That might be nice. I think it might help you a lot. I've seen one of them a few times since she died..."
"Maybe that helps you, but it's not going to help me. I'd rather put a bullet in my brain than go talk to someone about my problems. Thanks, though." I snapped.
"Charlotte, don't talk like that. Ever."
"Sorry."
"Maybe we can talk about this again later. If you change your mind, just let me know. Or... if you want to call them yourself, I have the number on a card here." he said, leaving my room again. I scoffed, thinking that he had actually left a business card on my nightstand, but it was actually just a name and phone number that my dad had handwritten on a note card. I put my headphones back in and tried to fall asleep again. It wasn't going to work because I had gotten almost 14 hours of sleep last night, but I was pretty much out of it. That was the goal, anyway. Madison had texted me a couple days ago, but I hadn't responded. We hadn't spoken in weeks and I didn't want to talk to her much anymore anyway. As soon as I started thinking about my life outside of home and other obligations I had, I started to shut down again. I didn't want to think about anything. I just wanted to sleep so I didn't have to do anything. I tried to stop thinking and just fall asleep, but it wasn't working. I was just tossing and turning and ended up thinking about things even more. I thought about the card that was sitting on my nightstand. I thought about the times that Harry went to therapy. It really did help him. At least, that's what he said. And he was always so stubborn, I'm surprised that he ever went at all. I guess he didn't until I met him... It surprised me that my dad went to therapy too. He wasn't that sort of guy. I frowned when i realized I was thinking about giving in and calling the number. They couldn't help me. How were they going to help me? They don't know me and they don't know my mom. They'll just tell me that I shouldn't be upset just because someone in my family died. People die all the time and I should just get used to it and accept that. I can't shut down every time someone dies. That's what they'll tell me if I go to therapy. Or it'll be a creepy old man who could easily sexually assault me. I'm safer here, in bed. There was another knock on my door and I just groaned. I didn't want to talk to my dad again. I can't believe he came all the way back upstairs so quickly to remind me that I need to go. I'll never go. He knocked again.
