POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING - this thread will contain some detail of existential crises and mild depression; if this is a sensitive subject for you I suggest not to read this thread, thank you

The Easter holidays had arrived, but - for the first time - Gabriella Haworth was not excited about going home. How could she be excited when she knew what lay ahead? Going home meant explaining, explaining everything - to her family, hunched sobbing at the bottom of the staircase, then to a therapist, and finally and transcendentally to herself, over and over and over in her head, the cycle never to end...
No, Gabriella, said her conscience. Gabby rolled her eyes and noted that this was the first time her conscience had addressed her using her full name - Gabriella, Gabriella, nobody ever called her Gabriella any more, far less her own conscience. No, Gabriella. The cycle will end. This is what you're going to solve. Get out of the rut you're in.
Yes, conscience, groaned Gabriella obediently. As so often, the conscience was right, and that was what bothered her the most, over everything else - the conscience was always right, which meant she was always wrong, which meant two things - a) she was a terrible human being, and b) she shouldn't be complaining about her conscience. And then there was the knowledge that came with these things, the knowledge that these thoughts shouldn't be in her head in the first place, that she should get help, but what would she say if she did get help? And did she deserve help, more to the point? Maybe this was what everyone felt, to an extent, and she was just being selfish and singling herself out?
No, no, that can't be right. This time, it was not her conscience that spoke, but Gabby herself; it was a realisation. No normal twelve-year-old has these thoughts. Surely. She paused, thinking of all the people she had spoken to in the past few weeks and months. Gia, Everly, Atlas... especially Atlas, how could she have had the same thoughts as Gabriella? Atlas was the only person she had ever talked to about these things, after all, and she had seemed shocked.

No, Gabriella decided, whatever this was, it was not normal.

She smiled a little, glad that she had figured something out on her own, without intervention from her conscience. If she had the strength to figure out this first step on her own, then she had the strength to take the initiative and let someone else figure out the next steps.

"Gabriella! Oh, Gabriella!" The Ravenclaw heard her mother's voice as soon as she stepped out onto the platform.
"Hi, Mum," replied Gabby, with a weak smile. Her father leaned out and picked up her trunk.
"How was the term?" he asked. "And when will we get to meet these friends you're talking about?" he added, jokily.
"I'm fine, Dad," lied Gabriella. I'll tell them the truth later. "And the term was... it was fine too."
"Seriously though, Gabriella," said her mother, "are you planning to bring a friend round for the summer? Because I'll have to do a lot of cleaning and tidying and-"
"I... I don't know," said Gabby, tucking her hair back behind her ear. "Maybe. I haven't even talked to anyone about it yet."

The family walked together out of the platform and to the car. "Jacob's still at school this week," said Gabby's father. "He finishes a week later than you do, so he won't be around for the next week."
"Ok." She opened the door and slid into the back of the car.

"Are you alright, Gabriella?" he asked. "You seem... subdued."
Gabriella laughed weakly. Well, they were bound to have caught on eventually, said her conscience, snidely. You've hardly been hiding your feelings.
"I suppose I'm... just a bit scared," Gabby explained, lamely. Scared?! Everything that was going on in her mind and she chose scared to explain it? In her mind, she uttered a word which would have got her yelled at if she had chosen to utter it aloud.
"Well, dear, what are you scared about?" asked her mother. "You can tell us, you know."
"Yeah..." began Gabriella. She had walked into this far earlier than she had expected, and this unnerved her. "I guess... I've been overthinking stuff... about... stuff... and... I think..."
"Yes?"
"Mother, I think I'll need a therapist."

It had come out so abruptly. Mother, I think I need a therapist.
What kind of a twelve-year-old addresses their mum as Mother?

"A therapist?" asked her dad. "Why? Are you depressed?" He laughed slightly, as if what he had just said was somehow funny.
"Well - maybe," said Gabby, seriously.
"Oh, Gabriella!" exclaimed her mother. "Are you ok? You were always so happy and bubbly and bouncy, and now..."
"I've just asked to see a therapist," snapped the girl. "Do you think I'm ok?" Nobody spoke. "You know, it's hard for me to talk about it," said Gabriella, after a while. "Please don't try to squeeze it out of me."

No. This was not how she had planned the encounter at all. It was going to be nice, they were going to be a happy family together for a few days, then Gabby would break the news. She was never meant to tell them so early, not while they were still in the car. I've messed up already, she berated herself.
Yes, agreed her conscience, you have.

This was one of the first times her conscience had agreed with her.

Nobody really spoke for the rest of the journey. They stopped at McDonalds on the way home, but apart from muttering her order to the lady behind the counter Gabriella didn't speak at all. Anyone looking at the group from the outside would surely have wondered what was going on - Gabby could sense that the expression on her face was completely blank, completely vague, and - quintessentially - completely numb. Yet inside of her, her thoughts were whirring. Everything inside her was happening at once, and there was no way of stopping it.

But even now, it was not the worst it had ever been.

A week later, Gabriella Haworth could be seen at the desk in her bedroom, parchment in front of her, scribbling out a letter in jet black ink.

Dear Atlas,
Hi. This is Gabby Haworth. I'm the girl you spoke to the other week in the Owlery, if you've forgotten about me already... hahaha. Anyway I've been to therapy now for my first session and I really wanted to thank you for all the help you gave me the other day. Your help + therapy has already helped me so much and although I'm nowhere near there yet you've been helping me so much, thank you, also I'm doing like a 10-week course at the therapist so when I get back to school I will only have done 2 weeks so I definately won't be ok yet when we get back, anyway, on the first day back after the holidays do you want to meet up somewhere in the school? (sorry, that was a long sentence hahaha) We can just talk, I can tell you about therapy if you want, I'm really grateful for all your help.
Thank you and thank you again a million times over for all your help,
Your friend,
Gabby xxx

It wasn't perfect by any means - there were grammar mishaps, spelling mistakes, and she hadn't paid any attention to punctuation. But it said what it needed to say - thank you.
She wrote Atlas' name neatly on an envelope and placed the letter inside. She screwed the cap back onto the ink bottle and pushed it aside. She brushed her hair back into a neat ponytail and gazed out of the window. A lone owl was soaring across the sky. Already, she felt much better.

Word count: 1305

Reducio

@Atlas Rey, hey. You might want to read the letter in this post I know I still owe you a reply and I'll get to that this weekend! I'm really sorry I'm doing everything in a weird order, I'm just trying to catch up at the moment. School has been hectic and I haven't really had much time for Hio... so sorry about that. But yeah, basically this is what happens in the Easter after the Owlery RP