The Other Side of the Door Essay

The Other Side of the Door Essay

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"Thanks, but for the last time," I said, trying not to sound ungrateful. "I honestly do not need to see a therapist."

"But, Anisa..." my mum sighed, worry still dancing around in her eyes. "You try to hide it, but just seem so upset all the - recently. Of course, we understand, regarding the circumstances. But that just makes it even more reasonable for you to consult a professional."

"We're just concerned about you," dad added on.

I gave them a genuine smile, and told them once again that I was fine. After a couple more minutes of persuading and nagging, my parents exhaled unhappily, nodded unwillingly, and left me in peace inside of my room.

I had received my GCSE results a day or two after Ashley's visit. It was what I'd expected for the few hours that I had been waiting on it - mostly As and A*s, and one B. It was lower than my predicted grades from school, as I had been working hard on these exams for five or six years, but I guessed it was the rush of events that had happened before the exams that impacted my score. It didn't matter, though. At least I passed all of them. After all, my lowest grade was only a B.

The thoughts I had about my marks sort of amused me. If this was a year ago, I would have been devastated with anything lower than mostly A*s and maybe one or two As. Maybe it was to do with what I'd learned about life - no matter how hard things are, as long as you try your best, you can always be happy in the end.

Apart from the 16th, the same day Ashley came over, I hadn't really spent time with Kenzie and Cody. Face to face, anyways. We Skyped each other a few times, talking about this and that. Their exam results were about the same as mine. The reason why we didn't talk much now...


... middle of paper ...


... my shirt?" She said, looking annoyed.

"Yes." I said in a bored tone, ready for her attack.

She opened her mouth, but then to my surprise closed it quickly again and stomped back up the stairs to her room.

When I made it to the bottom of the steps, I noticed mum fixing her hair just feet away from me for the case. That was probably why Alia didn't say anything bad to me. Forget the simple saying, my mother's looks could kill.
I knew she was just worried about me, but to be honest it bothered me. It sounded masochistic, but now I didn't want her to have stopped Alia from insulting me. She was my sisters, we were both near the perfect age to be 'moody teenagers' and we lived under the same roof. It was almost natural for us to yell at each other frequently.
That was why I didn't mind her bashing at me. I just wanted everything to be normal again.

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