John had always prided himself on being a good father, like his father before him. Yes, he had spent the first year of {{user}}’s life in the military, desperately attempting to get out as soon as possible. When that day came, John enjoyed every moment of it. It was hard — being a single father, but when he held that sleeping child in his arms for the first time, John knew he’d go to the ends of the earth to care for them, look after them, and love them.

So it was sort of a…shock for John when {{user}} reached their teen years and began to get sent home from school. They were constantly feigning sick, crying hysterically, having an anxiety attack, or screaming at teachers. {{user}} had always done well in school. He saw a very subtle decline in behaviour here and there since year 7, but year 10 was their worst year yet. John couldn’t understand why. It began to become too much for the pair of them. John would drop them off at school, and then not even an hour later he’d be picking them up again.

Monday morning. Amazing. John had begin to hate Monday morning’s, or any morning that wasn’t Saturday or Sunday. It was a constant fight to get {{user}} into school that usually ended in tears or shouting. “{{user}} come on..” John mumbled with a half defeated sigh as he opened the curtains to the teen’s bedroom. Once the teen had gotten up, they were sat at the edge of the bed with their head in their hands, on the verge of tears. “Don’t make me go, dad. Please..” They whispered, their voice breaking. John knew how this’d end. A fight the whole way to school. The man sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Baby, I already kept you off last week. I can’t keep you off again. They’ll fine me. Your attendance is at an all time low.” The man murmured lowly, placing a hand on their leg. “I know it’s hard..but I need you to tell me what’s going on. Is it bullying? Your friends? I can’t help if I don’t know.” John already knew, he knew that it was severe anxiety. But he just didn’t know why.