Head Above Water

"Come on out."

"I don't want to go."

Clarice's mother rubbed her forehead. "Please. Just please get out of the car. I can't see you like this anymore. It's only an hour. I'll be back to pick you up."

After the sudden death of her boyfriend and bullying, Laura was forced to remove her daughter from school and place her in homeschooling to rebuild her mental health. For the past two months, Clarice's mind was set adrift in a dark sea with no current and her mother was trying to paddle her to shore.

The antidepressants weren't enough even after upping the dosage; there were days at a time that Clarice didn't want to or couldn't get out of bed. She scrolled for hours on her phone, mindlessly. Sometimes when Clarice finally put it down was unable to recall a single thing she'd looked at, the only indication of use being the low battery warning and the warmth of her palm.

There was a lump in Lauren's throat. She was crying. Her mother never cried.

"Clarice, I don't know how else to help you," she said before the sobs broke out.

Clarice snapped out of her haze.

"Mom?"

Laura's grief prevented her from responding. These past few months, Clarice was simply existing. The death of her first love had taken a piece of her with him, and the words of her classmates who said she deserved this made her believe it. She didn't want to die, but if one morning she simply didn't wake up... At least it would be easy.

But it couldn't be so bad. Clarice was functioning. She was turning in her homeschool work on time. She wasn't crying every day.

She didn't want to talk to someone because it meant she wasn't getting better.

Laura's tears brought Clarice's attention back to the present. She didn't want to get out of this car. She didn't want help. She could do it on her own.

And then she started crying.

If one word would describe Clarice's life for the past two months it would be exhausted. She was tired of feeling alone, tired of crying, tired of feeling like shit, tired of everything.

Tired of being tired.

"You're right."

Laura hiccuped and turned to look at her daughter in the passenger's seat.

"Maybe I do need help."

"Really?"

Clarice nodded. She unbuckled her seatbelt. "I suppose it won't kill me. Back in an hour, right?"

"Right."

---

Clarice entered the door the receptionist led her to. Butterflies floated from her stomach to fill her throat. Somehow she arrived only two minutes past 4:00.

"Sorry," she said, entering as quietly as possible.

A woman with brown skin and a clipboard smiled.

"Oh, two minutes is barely late. Hi, I'm Dr. Chakas. You're Clarice, right?" She extended a hand. Clarice took it.

"Yes."

"I look forward to working with you." She gestured to the faded green couch against the wall. "Please, have a seat."