I woke up that morning to a knock on my door. I was asleep at my desk and lifted my head slowly to my mother’s voice. “Honey? Honey are you awake yet?”

I remembered being in the pack territory before getting up at the crack of dawn, I would pretend any moment my mom would wake me up for school. She never did and I always woke with sense of despair. I missed her cooking then, her smile and warm hugs. Now I could barely be near her or look at her.

“Yeah.” I said ruffling my orange hair.

“Well I and your father have been talking-we think you should try talking to the therapist again since it’s so hard to talk to us. It’s unhealthy to be coped up in there.

My whole body grew tense but I was thankful I locked the door. “No, no it never helps. Please go.”

“Come out dearie, you need to do something. Aren’t you grateful to be home?” My mother said meekly.

I exploded in rage and I turned to my wall and slammed my fist in the wall. I felt my mother jump back behind my door. Was this my home? Was this house, this room my home. I felt so angry how she called this my home…although it was my home…right? I should be happy to be with my parents and loved ones.

“Mom…” I said quietly going to the door. My hand gently touched the door. I wanted to caress her, hug her with deep affection but I felt repulsed by the idea of touching. “I love you so much, I just need a little bit more time. I’m helping myself mom….”

My mom shook the handle violently. “I want my daughter, Hannah, Hannah come out now! How are you helping yourself by being in there?”

Tears filled my eyes and they round down my plush freckled cheeks. “Mom please you need to understand, I’m not ready I’m confused and lost.”

“This is why you need to go to the counselor’s darling, to help you solve your emotions. Let us help you adapt here.” I could hear my mother beginning to sniffle. “I missed you so much and now since your back you can’t even be with me.”

I felt heartbroken shaken up, ashamed I could not be there. “I’m sorry mom, I really am.”

“Your sister, her piano recital is coming up….I want you to come with us it would be good for you.” My mother said.

I began trembling. Being in large crowds and noises scared me…it reminded me of some very certain things. “I’ll try.” I said choking on tears. “I can’t go to the counselor’s though, they never seem to understand. They blankly nod and when I try to open up they always seem to label me. Always saying it was just the situation I went through and they were just monsters, brutal monsters that’s all they were and I was the victim always playing a victim role. I get confused when I talk to them and their questions are bombarding and blank faces. I don’t trust them…or anyone.”

My mother listened like how she always did. She then replied softly; “Alright, I won’t make you go, but could you come to the recital?”

I smiled. “She is a wonderful piano player, I would never miss it.”

I heard my mother turn to leave and I called to her again. “Oh and mom?”

“Yes?” I heard her stopping midway down the hall to turn to the stair case. I heard a little joy in her voice, it sounded like hope. It made me smile and I looked at my window seeing a butterfly, my favorite animal.

“I’m writing out how I feel and my emotions about my times….well when I was away from you and the family. That papers are my counselor so don’t worry when I’m saying, I’m taking care of myself.”