I don't really remember when or why my behaviour gradually started to change, but what I did know was that I couldn't control myself once my emotions were getting ahead of me.

It was on a Thursday after school. During the breaks I had gotten into some fights with a few peers, the reason too vague for me to remember. It had negatively lowered my mood, so I wanted to go to the farm to do some practice. Mr. Wood, Unc Teddy's brother, still hadn't taught me any tricks when it came to steer wrestling, but I had watched enough videos to know how it worked and I was sick of practicing with sheep.

So right after school, I made my way over to the farm, knowing Mr. Wood worked somewhere else on that day. I tacked up their Welsh pony, brought him over to the riding ring and tied the rope to the wooden fence, wrapping a rope around one of the calf's neck.

With much struggles as the bull was already stronger than me, I had pushed him into the ring. Once I dragged myself upon the pony's back, I trotted around for a while, trying to get near the steer, bummed that I couldn't have him trapped in the fences so I could have a fair start.

I swung the rope around a couple of times, missed, tried again. Eventually, my rope got ahold of the young steer, I jumped off my pony and tried to wrestle with it by pushing it to the ground. However, the young steer's horns had already started to grow and with one bump against my head, I flew to the ground, laid there for a few minutes before the blackness went away and I remembered where I was.

Standing up, I remember feeling enormously dizzy and nauseous, my vision blurry. I couldn't really understand what had happened. I leaned against the fences, my eyes rolling to the back of my head a couple of times.

When I had caught my breath, I felt a strong hand around my wrist.

"Have you gone mad?!" It was Mr. Wood. "That was really, incredibly stupid of you, do you know that? I could see you from where I was driving with the car. You're going home."

"But you.. but you would know a cowboy only learns the tough way." I had managed to slip out.

"By stealing someone else's cattle and horses, while being unexperienced? That isn't going to teach you anything." His words were harsh. It hit me, deeply. He hadn't spoken to me like that before. I knew I really had done something bad.

When he had brought me home, the second lecture began. "This is why I don't want you to play out this sport. Your head was hit, Benjamin. By a steer!" Papà shook his head, disbelief stood in his eyes. "Irresponsible. I cannot believe you did this, Benjamin. I expected better from you."

Frustrated tears had rolled down my cheeks, but I was too exhausted and nauseous to speak. When papà had calmed down, we visited the first aid, where they told us I had a concussion and had to take it easy for at least a few days.

Papà had kissed my face, with a deep sigh. "I heard there was a free spot in Nolan's football team, are you sure you don't want to take a look, at least?"

"I don't want to play football!" I had screamed in his face. "I hate football! And besides, you can get a thousand balls smacked against your face during one game! Now that is irresponsible!"

Papà had dragged me over to my bedroom when we had returned home, and tucked me in. "Try to get some sleep. You need the rest." He wanted to kiss my face, but I turned away from him. Why did he always hold me back from doing the things I loved in life? I simply couldn't understand it.

A week or two later, I was back on my feet, was it carefully. Papà restricted me from going to Mr. Wood's house for a while, only to learn from my mistake. I didn't think it was a mistake, I thought it had only made me stronger, more experienced to become a cowboy.

When I came home after school, I abruptly stood still when I saw Lavinia, the child psychologist I had talked to a few times, sitting at the table with Papà and Salomé. I quietly dropped my bag, wanted to tiptoe my way upstairs, but before I could, Papà noticed me and waved me over.

Innerly, I had groaned, but I sauntered my way over to the table and sat down. Salomé prepared me a glass of lemonade, laid down a biscuit next to my drink. I mumbled out a 'thanks' and stared at the table, secretly wondering what was going on, even though I knew her being here was bad news.

"How was school?" Papà asked, ruffling my hair.

I shrugged. "Great."

"That doesn't sound too enthusiastic!" Lavinia smiled at me, to which I glared a little.

"Just because Papà signed me up to talk to you sometimes, doesn't mean I'm depressed every day."

Papà couldn't suppress his sigh. "That was a nice way to greet her." I could see the tiredness in his eyes. "You're probably wondering why she's here? This isn't just for you, it's for us too.."

I sipped my lemonade, decided to keep my mouth shut.

"Your father called me a few days ago. He expressed his concerns about you to me, so I decided to stop by to see what we all can do for you so you can feel a little bit better at home." Lavinia started, taking a sip of her coffee. I kept staring at the table.

"It's not you, Benji." Papà reached for my hand, I let him hold it for a little while. It felt warm, safe. "It's something we need to do together. You, Salomé and me. It's a little hard to explain, but sometimes the way things go in a family.. needs a little help too."

"I'm just here for a little while to see how things go and if there are things that could be done differently in order to make everyone feel good."

"Do you not think Papà raised me the right way?" I frowned and for the first time, looked into Lavinia's eyes.

She smiled softly. "Oh, I believe things went just fine. But the structure of your family has changed, yeah? Ever since, well.."

"Mamma died. Why don't you just say that? Aren't you a psychologist? Why beat around the bush? Are those forbidden words? It's not like I will cry every time I hear those words." My frown became deeper, I placed the glass back down with a loud thud. "Yes, I admit, I cry about it, but not each time."

"Benjamin, can you just listen?" Papà's voice was still soft, I wondered why he could take so much from me today. Even though I didn't mean no harm, and genuinely wondered.

"Let's be honest.. It hasn't been easy for you. Your father marrying another woman, who comes to live with you and your father after a while of being with just the two of you. Someone whom I believe loves you dearly, wants the best for you, and then maybe corrects you at times, to which you may feel a little irritated, or perhaps something else."

I felt understood, but for some reasons, I couldn't admit that.

"It takes a whole lot of strength to go through all of that, and you're doing it. You should be proud of yourself!"

"It's not like I had a choice."

"No, but sometimes life is like that. You don't always get to choose what you're going through, but how you get through it, is a choice."

"So, what's the plan? Papà and Salomé get play therapy?" I looked up at them, saw how tears glistened in Salomé's eyes. I wondered why, but it shied me off a little. I looked back down at the table.

"She will just come by a couple of times to see how things are done in this house. That's all." Papà ruffled my hair. Then they told me to leave the room for a few minutes.

I sat on the stairs, my face in my hands, my elbows on my knees. I heard them talk. "It's not easy for a child when the family structure changes so much. And when the behaviour of a child isn't to be tracked from the roots, it can be hard to guide him in the right way. Especially now puberty is just around the corner."

I rolled my eyes and let out a deep sigh. A few moments later, Lavinia called me over to the backyard, to speak with me alone. I plopped down onto a chair and stared at the bees, who were busying themselves with the flowers we had in the garden.

"Benjamin, sometimes I wonder something."

I looked at her.

"Sometimes I wonder if you think any, even if it is just something really small, if any good came from the things that happened to you? Do you ever think about that?"

That was a wrong thing to say. I remember that I started to boil from the inside. The deepest anger, which I sometimes knew how to hide, came up in an instant. It burst out like a crater would, spewing, flying everywhere. Loudly. Ghastly.

I shot up from my chair, looked at her in disbelief. "Anything good from the things that happened? Anything good from my Mamma dying? Me seeing it? Feeling the fear, not being able to do anything about it?! Anything good coming from that?" I reached for her wrist, squeezed it with all of my strength. "Anything good?!" I screamed in her face, starting to shake her, harshly.

"Oh, certainly! For now I know that us, as human beings, are not worth anything at all when we die! People will forget you! People will try everything to avoid talking about you, thinking about you! Oh, how much are we worth. Oh, people love us so much, until you die! Then you're nothing but a touchy subject, a memory people only want to suppress because it's full of pain! Oh, how good that is. How bloody good that is!" In the haze of my anger, I forgot whom I was talking to, and completely let myself go, kicking, hitting, until I felt two strong hands separating me from the person I was beating.

Because the concussion hadn't been too long ago, I started to feel extremely lightheaded by the outburst, to which it became black before my eyes, and when I felt my legs shaking, I fell to the floor again, not remembering much.

Later, I came to know that by falling, I had hit my head against a little rock laying in the back yard, to which my skin had split open. After a few stitches and another concussion, I was forced to stay in bed for a couple of weeks.

It gave me much time to reflect. I thought about everything, a lot. And with me almost turning fourteen, my thoughts went rather deep sometimes. My somberness became deeper, more intense sometimes. I became quieter, realising what I had done to Lavinia. I was deeply ashamed, even though I couldn't hold myself back. The question was so stupid, and I just didn't know how to control my temper sometimes.

Lavinia still came by our house. The damage hadn't been much. Just a bruise on her wrist and her arm, I had mostly hit Papà, because without realising, he had pulled her away and I had been hitting him for a while, until he got ahold of my arms.

When she came into my room, she was still as nice as always, trying to talk. But often, I had a huge headache, and not much would come out. I thought it wasn't necessary for her to come over to our house to see how we did things here. I thought everything went fine. Yes, it sucked sometimes, but the only thing that truly bothered me was that Papà held me back from the things I loved.

In my deep thinking, I realised I felt stuck. Trapped. Between four walls. Four walls that moved tighter and closer each day a little bit more. I would put all of my strength into pushing them away, but they wouldn't budge.

One day, Amelia came by. She knocked softly upon my door. I looked sideways, and hummed quietly, to which she came in. I had blushed lightly by seeing her, snuggled deeper in the covers so she wouldn't see my horse pajama's.

"Hey, I missed you today at school."

"I hit my head, I have to stay in bed for a few days." I carefully lifted my head from my pillow, staring at the little bag in her hand.

"Your dad told me. I'm so sorry!" Amelie dragged the chair from my desk to the bed, handing me the little bag she was holding. "That's why I brought you something."

"Oh." My cheeks started to feel a little warmer. I slowly sat up, squeezed my eyes when dots and blackness appeared for a little moment. The covers slipped off my body, exposing my pajamas to her. I quickly reached for the covers, but the sudden movement brought a sharp, stinging pain to my head, to which I moaned a little.

"Don't be daft. I love your pajamas!" Amelie giggled, her blue eyes sparkling lightly as she did so. "I have bunnies on my pajamas, but I don't even like them. Do you actually like horses?"

"Yes." I admitted, somewhat shamefully.

"Thank goodness! Then you must love what's inside the bag. Will you please open it now?" Amelie smiled softly, jumped upon my bed. "It's so nice, if I say so myself!"

I liked the way she talked. I liked her energy. Somehow, they reminded me of Mamma. When I opened the bag, I picked up two self-baked cookies, in the shape of a horseshoe and a clover.

"Aren't they for good luck?" Amelie laughed softly. "Good luck with getting better! I decorated them myself. I love baking! There's more inside the bag." Amelie pushed the bag my direction again, wiggled with her feet in anticipation. It was a charm in the shape of a horse, which I could attach to the keys of my bike.

"I really love it." I felt frustrated at how warm my cheeks still were. "I really do. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome!" Her arms were wrapped around my neck. I enjoyed the warm hug. "I hope you'll be back at school soon. I don't have my comfort friend around me during the grieve class!"

"I don't know if I'm going back there." My voice was barely above a whisper. I stuffed everything back inside the bag.

"Oh.. why?" Amelie was like an open book. You could see the emotions she experienced on her face, you could feel them, hear them in her voice. She never hid them, it was something I admired deeply. For I couldn't do it.

"My results at school have been very bad. Papà thinks it might be too much." I swallowed, stared down at my hands. "I have to take a few classes with younger people, so I get up to date again with the subject matter."

Amelie rested her hand upon my shoulder. "Do take care of you, yeah? If you think the support group is good for you, then maybe you should tell your dad?"

We had chatted until dinner time. When she held the door as she was about to leave, she looked at me, smiling softly. "Well, even if you decide not to come anymore, I'm still your friend, and you can always talk to me about everything!"

And I knew she meant that.

-

Do you think Zev and Salomé find raising/ the situation around Benjamin tough?

What about Benjamin's behaviour? Will it get worse? Better?

Amelie being a friend to Benjamin?

And what about Lavinia, do you think it was right of her to ask him that question?

I'm curious about your thoughts! Much love, Jo x