Angel in the Courtyard [Book 2]

Chapter 26 - Tomasia

As a kid, I had a hard time wrapping my head around what depression was, even though it was a topic of interest in my family. Every week, mom would update us about her sister's progress at the rehab facility. Mostly, she would complain about how much money she was having to invest in someone who abused alcohol and drugs. Loyal and I tried to ask her multiple times, why our aunt was the way that she was, and what landed her in such a state, but the woman never gave us a real answer. It was normal for her to ignore me but I think at the time, she was genuinely trying to shield her children from the truth.

Mom's side of the family weren't rich. Actually, they were almost dirt poor. Mom was the first one to attend university and that was because she received a full scholarship. Her grades were impeccable and her future full of opportunities. Mom was also the first one in her family to obtain a full-time job with benefits. After that, she received grants to complete her masters at McGill University. That's where she met dad, and I wish I could say the rest was history, but the truth of the matter was, it poorly impacted aunt Carla. While mom was living her best life, her sister struggled with substance abuse.

That being said, I had my first panic attack when I was only fourteen. The cause was simple; stress. What could a fourteen year old have to stress about? Well, at the time, I was drowning in school assignments and working hard to organize after school activities. Then I found out I had been selected as the valedictorian for the graduating class. I was so excited to tell mom about all my accomplishments, but none of it seemed to impress her. I barely ate the following week, and when I finally mustered up the strength to bite off a piece of bread at the dinner table, my body lost its will to function. I sat there weeping, while my parents, brother, and the maids watched.

"What are you crying about?" Mom barked.

I couldn't respond to her. I couldn't say anything because the more I tried to think of a reason to explain my incompetence, the harder I wailed. Loyal was quick to rush to my side. He hugged me for comfort, while my parents waited for my tantrum to end. And that's when it really hit me; how unloved I truly was by them, how unwanted I was in their eyes, and that there wasn't a single thing I could ever do to please them. All my efforts for acknowledgment were being squandered. My cries softened as my lungs gave in, and with every negative thought, I struggled to breathe harder..and harder..and harder until I just couldn't anymore and collapsed.

When the doctors suggested therapy, I could swear I heard mom scoff. I knew spending money on rehabilitating another person sounded like a nuisance to her. Loyal glared her down on my behalf. He was upset about what happened to me; hurt that our parents only seemed to care after I blacked out, but Loyal himself behaved strangely that day. He yelled at our parents in a way I never expected him to. He called them things I never thought he would have the confidence to. Mom slapped him hard on the face, right in front of the doctor, and then stormed out of the room. Loyal spent the next few nights in my bed, and while he slept, I could hear him mumbling the word, "liar" over and over again.

Anxiety medication helped. Therapy was also good at encouraging me to compartmentalize my own expectations verses what my parents wanted. I was doing a lot better by the time high school started, although at that point, Loyal and I drifted apart. After I found out he was just barely passing his grades on purpose, I was infuriated. I worked so hard to prove myself and there he was not even bothering to harness his skills as a prodigy. It was like he was mocking me. We both said some awful things to each other, and in the midst of it, my second panic attack occurred. Loyal calmed me down and encouraged me to breath through a paper-bag. He stayed with me until I was back to my normal self...but afterwards, we both just grudgingly stopped speaking to one another.

Then Neal Dobberman happened. He was the one who single handedly made me understand what depression really was. When he tracked me down to the student council room that day, and forcefully touched parts of me that no one should ever feel entitled to touch, I felt myself hit rock bottom. If Loyal hadn't stormed in to save me, I don't know if my soul would have survived. Needless to say, my brother is my rock. He is my guardian angel and the one who always leaps to my side, and makes sure I'm okay, even when he's angry with me.

When he found out about my relationship with Zander, I wasn't surprised to see him sneak into the house in the middle of the night to comfort me. As dishevelled as I was, as hard as it was for me to breathe, and as much as I feared that my brother would hate me for betraying him, he instead showed me kindness and understanding.

"It's okay," Loyal soothed, pulling a paper-bag out of his back pocket. He started carrying them around after my first panic attack.

He wiped my tears, as I accepted his gesture. He talked me through my breathing and held my shaking hands in his. "I-I'm s-sorry," I cried. "I-I'm so s-sorry!"

"Shhhh," he said, bringing me close. "You haven't done anything wrong, and anyone who says you have will answer to me."