Uncertain

25-Burden

"Do you want something to drink?" Mrs. Alberts asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

I shook my head.

It had been a while since I had last seen a psychologist. For the matter of fact, I had been seeing a psychologist because of my brother's death, who turned out to be alive, so there wasn't a reason for that anymore.

There was.

I should've seen a psychologist a long time ago, a long time before my brother's 'death'. I had needed help for ages, for ever since I remember. I just had gone through a lot of things, and all of the things made me want to give up with my horrific life.

It wasn't like after one day or week or month, or even after years, I was going to forget the things that had happened in my life.

"So, how are you doing?" She asked, sitting behind her desk. "It's been a while..."

My leg was nervously bouncing up and down, and I was fidgeting the ring around my finger.

I was trying to focus on anything else than on her face. My gaze moved from a clock to a painting on the wall, then to the worn curtains in front of her window, and then back to the clock.

"I heard that your brother's alive." She spoke again after a moment, when she realized that I wasn't going to answer anytime soon. "He's one kind of a person."

I didn't even know why it was so damn hard to talk to her, to open up to her, but it was. Maybe I was scared that I would seem like one big burden to her, or I just thought that I could manage on my own, which wasn't anywhere near the truth.

"Did I ever tell you that I knew him before?" She questioned, making me shake my head. "There was a time when I was really down, after my husband's death, and he walked past the bridge, where I was ready to end it all, that day. He saved me."

"He has a good heart." I murmured.

"He indeed has a good heart." She agreed, a tiny smile cracking on her lips.

"I'm a little scared." I blurted out. "If I die, if this cancer beats me, I'll break Weston's heart, and I'm really scared because I don't want to hurt him."

"Delil..."

"Will you help him?" I asked, cutting Mrs. Alberts off. "If I die, will you make sure that he doesn't hurt himself?"

"Don't think about that, Delilah." She commented, taking a sip from her coffee. "You are not dying."

A tear rolled down my cheek.
"What if I want to?"

"Oh honey, what makes you think that?" She asked, giving me a sympathetic look.

I shrugged.

Honestly, everything was my answer. Everything made me think of wanting to give up. Everything went always wrong, everything was always against me. I just wanted to give up, I just wanted to go somewhere better place, which in my life wasn't on earth anymore. It was somewhere in the clouds, next to my mum.

"I'm a little tired..." I finally answered. "I don't want to breath anymore."

"What if we think about the good things in your life?" Mrs. Alberts spoke with a calm voice. "What is something good in your life right now, it can be just a little thing."

"My brothers." I answered without even a little hesitation. "My family."

She wrote something down on a paper, before she raised her gaze back to me.
"Tell me some really good memory with them that makes you smile by just thinking about it."