Remembering Billie

Twenty Four Hours After [Casper's .P.O.V.]

Large white pills sit in front of me next to a tall glass of water and I will myself to take them. But somehow my mouth wouldn't open and I couldn't find the nerve to even lift the glass. My eyes are bloodshot and my face covered in pimples that magically appeared over night; and I'm exhausted entirely. I'd love to say that I'm getting better thanks to the meds, but after the traumatizing nightmare I had last night which caused me to wake up screaming and send my parents running to my room in tears, I think it's safe to say that I'm only worsening. My mother organised an appointment with a Therapist called "Cherry" who's supposed to be coming tonight and every Monday night after that as well. I don't think that will help, but I've hurt my mother too much to deny her guidance when she's dying inside just as much as I am. 

I quickly chug down the pills and mope around the kitchen as the jug boils. "You shouldn't drink so much, Casper." A soft voice interrupts my thoughts of loneliness, and I turn to face my exhausted mother dressed in tailored suit. I grin weakly at her and attempt a joke. "It might keep me awake through the nights" I say. "Awake and free from the nightmares. Which should get you and Dad a good night's sleep." She sighs and looks at me. "Finish that essay on To Kill A Mockingbird won't you, dear?" I pull a mug from the cupboard and shut the door with a loud bang. "Sure, Mum." I mutter into the sugar jar. Car keys jingle in her hand before I hear the door shutting with a slam and a car engine starting. I double the caffeine, triple the sugar and argue under my breath about my mother. Sometimes silence is all I can do to not burst out in anger. I take myself up to my room and find a parcel waiting for me, my window slightly open ajar and grin, "Just what I need!"

"Finish that Essay, won't you?"  My mother's words puncture my numbness as I plug my earphones in and create a new doc. on my computer and start writing about Atticus Finch, Jem and Scout. The silence in the house is unbearable and my earphones make excellent company; I find Arctic Monkeys' "R U Mine?" and turn the volume up until its reverberating through my skull and throbbing through every part of me just like it belongs there.

What seems to be minutes later, Mum arrives home, then Dad and the commotion of the house winds up again as if they've fed the Hamster that keeps the house running, some carrots. The scent of spicy curry wafts into my room, my nose crinkling in disgust; the front door opens and a young, bright voice cries out "Ah! Nice to meet you Mrs Bellman! I'm Cherry Adler, Casper's therapist." My face burns in horror. I can almost feel her presence creeping up the stairs to capture my 'sinful spirits'.  Sighing deeply, I fix up my appearance in the mirror and brood over my newest nightmare as I walk down the stairs, my socked feet slipping on the shiny board until I come face to face with heaven itself.  And I promise I don't mean that in a perverted way either.  She's literal heaven. As in, a devil wouldn't dare to be less than a thousand yards from her. She's wide waisted and chubby around the face with these big green eyes and fake Katy Perry Eyelashes rimming them. She has long blonde hair pulled back into two dutch braids and a small daisy chained flower crown sits on top of her head. She's wearing floral, baggy yoga pants, jeweled sandals and a frilly white shirt. And the house, for some reason, smells like raspberry cola and french vanilla. Cherry wraps me in a bear hug, squeezing me tight against her and I realize that it's her who's the source of the aroma. "Can't... Breathe!..-" I croak out. "Oh, sorry babe!" She giggles and slackens her grasp on me.

My father offers Cherry a drink, (She chooses green tea) before they desert the lounge and leave me and Cherry to ourselves.My stomach rumbles loudly, and it dawns on me that all Ive had to eat today is coffee. "So Casper." She sips from her drink slowly, a lipstick stain forming on the side of the mug. "Agoraphobia, huh" I nod my head slowly at her. She blinks at me and I catch a glimpse of green eye shadow.  "Why don't you talk to me?" Cherry raises her perfectly plucked, brown brows at me and sighs. "Well, personally," I snap. "I don't understand what the use of me blabbing to you to then have you blab it all to my parents is gonna do for my health." She snorts loudly and giggles. "Babe, a counselor is someone who works for their client, and I don't intend on telling your parents anything unless you want me to." She smiles and this time I know its genuine but it also doesn't give me enough confidence to talk. "Unless of course, it happens to be a life or death situation and you, or others might be in danger, then I'd talk to them." We sit in awkward silence before she pulls out her phone, and asks "Have you tried meditation, Casper?" I shake my head in my usual bored fashion. "Well, I have a few apps that might be worth your time and you should check them out. I mean, some teenagers really love it and they use it before they go to school and afterwards and also before they go to sleep. Adults even use it and sometimes-" "Just shut up!" I exclaim in frustration. Cherry laughs at me and her eyes go wide in mock surprise. "He fucking talks! This is an achievement!" She shakes her head, bewildered. "Oh don't be so surprised." I growl. "You were droning on like a freakin' robot. So how could I not say something..." I trail off, noticing her staring at me in a quiet manner, obviously silently willing me to keep talking. I huff and lean back against the couch with my arms crossed. "Whatever," I mutter. "Why the hell should I even try these shitty apps, what use are they to me?" She grins at me. "Agoraphobia is an Anxiety Disorder." I nod my head. I know this already, and she looks at me with this utterly cocky grin on her face that implies she thinks I'm just some stupid child who doesn't know shit. "And meditation slows the heart rate, calms the nervous system and over all lifts your moods." She smiles smugly into her cup of green tea, satisfied with her answer. "Cleanses the soul!" I flick my wrists and mock her shill, high pitched voice. I know I'm being pathetic, but my anger and frustration is instead of wimpish tears that constantly form a lump at the back of my throat. Its all I can do to burst out swearing at her, throw a chair or completely break down. I'm holding myself together with a cotton thread..