Personal Narrative: An Inspector Calls

“Mia, you aren’t going to get better if you don’t talk to me, please just open up” The lady pleads with me. I stare down at her squeaky clean badge. ‘Nicole Williams, Grief Counsellor’ I’ve sat in the same chair, having the same conversation with this lady for the past 3 months. No one understands that I don’t need them, I don’t need their sympathetic looks, or their motivation speeches, I just need them to all go away. My thoughts are interrupted by the timer beside us beeping. Nicole sighs “I guess our time is up, I’ll see you the same time next week.” I walk our without saying a word, people at school say I don’t speak because of the trauma, but it isn’t that, it’s because whenever I open my mouth I feel the water suffocating me again. I head outside towards the white commodore where my dad sits drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in the beat …show more content…
As I start to collect my things I hear a voice behind me. “Mia, could you just wait behind for a moment?” My eyes shift to where the voice is to see my teacher. “I just wanted to see how you are going, it must be hard coming back to school after all that you had gone through.” She says with sympathy coated over every word. I give her a slight smile. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, or anything at all, just let me know, okay?” She says I look now at shoes and nod slightly. The teacher sighs “Okay you’re free to go now, enjoy your weekend.” I leave the classroom as quickly as possible before she changes her mind. As I leave the school my mind fills with the thoughts of that night again. How I had followed mum to the bridge, begged her not to do anything, begged to her stay. She looked at me with her tears so thick you could hardly see her blue eyes underneath. I reminisce over her last words to me. “I’m sorry Mia, I just need to be