Justin"Mom, take that thing off my face," I said flatly.Across from me, she stood like a battlefield medic, armed with a glass of water and a container of oversized, chalky pills that tasted like crushed regret."I feel fine," I insisted, leaning back against the headboard. "You're overthinking this."“Come on, honey,” she said gently. “Just because you haven’t had an episode recently doesn’t mean we can get too comfortable.”I exhaled, frustration tugging at my features. “Didn’t you say, just a few days ago, that this was a sign I was healing? So why are we backtracking now? Shouldn’t we be celebrating a little progress?”“I’m being careful, honey.”Her voice softened at the end, and I knew it wasn’t about the pills. It was worry, and maybe fear, tangled into motherly instinct. But still, those pills were monstrous. They looked like they were made for livestock.“I’ll break them in half, if that helps,” she offered, clearly not planning to back down.Then her tone shifted into that
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