"Your son will be as normal as any other teenager in a year. There is nothing to worry about, Miranda," Danielle Wasikowski said, in the most f*****g condescending tone I'd ever heard.
I watched as my mom raised her frail, shaky hand to her nose and wiped away the snot with her used tissue. She nodded with hope in her sad blue eyes.
I didn't believe anything these f*****g shrinks said. We'd seen over ten different shrinks in the past month and I'd only agreed because I thought it'd help my mom. But all it seemed to be doing was making her depressed and emptying her bank savings.
"Gage, now it's your turn." Danielle turned her attention to me.
I stared at her blankly. Pure anger coursed through my veins. There was nothing that she could say that would reverse the past and make it better again. There was nothing that was going to make me lie and be happy or pretend to get better. I knew myself. I knew how I felt. There was no fixing this. No fixing me. No erasing my mistakes.
"Gage." I felt my mom's soft fingers graze cross my clenched fist. "Why don't you speak to Danielle and then after we can get some dinner."
I looked away from the shrink and back at my mom. Her puffy eyes were so hopeful that I nodded and forced a small smile for her. Even if I was a lost cause, I didn't want to lose her too, so I'd talk with the shrinks if it meant getting my mom back.
"So, why don't you tell me about your brother, Andrew," Danielle said, getting out her notebook.
I closed my eyes and felt the pain wash over me all over again. Every single memory engraved in my mind like a f*****g life sentence, like an irreversible tattoo. And then I told her about Andrew. I told a stranger who didn't give a single f**k about my dead brother.