MHA Angst

*Recovery Girl nodded thoughtfully, setting the folder aside and folding her hands on the desk.* "I see," *she murmured,* "It's normal to feel conflicting emotions when it comes to family relationships, especially when the relationship wasn't great to begin with." *She paused for a moment, studying your expression before asking gently:* "Can you tell me more about your relationship with your mother? What was it like?"

“Well she was.. trying. But well.. whenever I visited her in the hospital.. she always pushed her problems onto me. Or said that I was one of them. Honestly I don’t think she even cared about me enough. Or really cared at all.”

*Recovery Girl frowned at that, her expression softening with concern.* "I'm sorry to hear that, dear," *she said softly,* "It sounds like you had a tough time dealing with her negative comments and lack of emotional support." *She leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle but probing.* "Did this affect your self-image at all? Do you believe what she said about you being a problem or burden?"

“.. A lot.”

*Recovery Girl nodded, her expression solemn.* "That's understandable. Growing up with negative messages from someone who should have been supportive and loving can have a deep impact on your self-worth. It sounds like her words really stuck with you." *She paused before asking quietly, almost like she was afraid of the answer.* "Is it okay if I ask you a difficult question?"

“Yeah sure.”

*Recovery Girl took a slow breath, choosing her words carefully.* "When you look at yourself in the mirror—do you see someone who *deserves* to be treated poorly?" *Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable weight behind the question.* "Or do you think... maybe she was wrong about that too?"

“I.. I think so.”

*Recovery Girl nodded slowly, her eyes not wavering as she searched your expression.* "It's crucial to hold onto that belief—to remember that you are worthy of love, respect, and care. You are not just a problem or a burden to others." *She leaned slightly closer, her voice dropping just a fraction.* "But I have a feeling deep down... you struggle to convince yourself of that sometimes, don't you?"

“Yes.”

*Recovery Girl's expression softened even more, a hint of sadness in her eyes. She nodded.* "That's very common for people who have grown up with constant negative messages. It's like there's this little voice inside you that questions your worth, no matter how hard you try to silence it." *She tapped her fingers gently on the desk as she spoke, considering her words carefully.* "How long do you think you've felt this way? This... sense of not being enough."

“Years.”

*Recovery Girl exhaled softly, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of your answer had physically pressed down on her.* "Years," *she repeated quietly, more to herself than to you. Her fingers curled around a pen before she set it back down with deliberate control.* "That's... a long time to carry that kind of burden." *She studied you for another moment—her gaze sharp but not unkind.* "And yet here you are. Still standing. Still fighting through it all."

“I wish I wasn’t.” I flinched when I realized what I said.

*At your unintentional confession, Recovery Girl's expression faltered. Her eyes widened for a split second, her facade of professionalism slipping. For just a moment, a flicker of raw concern shone through.* *She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she reached for your arm. Her hand lingered there for a moment, her touch gentle.* "Rina... Can I ask something personal?"

“I- I— uhm.. oh okay.”

*Recovery Girl's fingers tightened momentarily on your arm, her eyes searching yours carefully for any sign of hesitation.* "I need you to be honest with me, alright? It's important." *There was something in her tone that made it clear this question was crucial.* "Have you ever... thought about ending your life?"

“.. I’ve tried to. Well— I.. did.”

*Recovery Girl froze. Her grip on your arm loosened, but she didn't pull away entirely—her expression shifted from professional concern to something far more urgent.* "Rina," *she said quietly, her voice dangerously soft,* "Did you try today?" *The question hung in the air like a blade ready to drop.*

“I don’t really like talking about it..”

*Recovery Girl's grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear she wasn't letting you dodge this.* "Rina," *she said firmly,* "I need an answer. Right now." *Her eyes were sharp, searching yours for any flicker of evasion or deception.* "Did you try today?"

“No.”

*It was like a weight lifted off Recovery Girl's shoulders—a subtle sigh of relief she couldn't quite hide. But her expression remained serious, her eyes fixated on yours as if trying to find any hint of a lie.* "Promise me—no, swear to me, right now." *Her tone was stern, not a request—a demand.* "Swear you won't try to end your life again."

“I- I can’t swear that.”

*Recovery Girl's face paled, her grip on your arm going slack for a second as if you'd physically struck her. Then—her expression hardened.* "You *can't*?" *she repeated, voice dangerously quiet.* "Rina... do you realize what that means? That answer is the difference between me sending you home or calling Aizawa to escort you straight to a psychiatric ward." *Her fingers twitched toward the phone on her desk—hovering over it threateningly.*