I'm not okay

Unfortunately, many things in life are easier said than done, including the idea of moving on. Many people believe that moving forwards and forgetting the past is simple, yet these people have clearly not been through anything so traumatic that it seems impossible to forget.
I had originally thought that moving on with my life would come effortlessly after knowing that my father was safely locked away, especially with Frank finally understanding what was wrong with me. That was, of course, simply the result of wishful thinking.
After the trial, the nightmares and flashbacks continued; I would awake at least once a week shivering and crying, with a feeling of panic and terror, almost on the verge of yet another breakdown. It had gotten to the extent that Aunt Tay had decided to keep me off school for the time being, and would constantly call up to make extra appointments with my doctor. Even I was shocked that after one quick sighting of my father, I would be back to square one, how I had been for the first couple of weeks after the incident.
Everybody seemed to be worrying about me, and yet there didn’t seem to be anything to do that would help. Despite this, Frank would make frequent visits to try and cheer me up, although the majority of the time would be spent simply lying together. As much as I’d hate to admit it to him, it sometimes helps me sleep purely due to the comfort of knowing that he would be there to protect me.
Thankfully, Frank had kept it quiet, and Aunt Tay still hadn’t told Brayden, so according to the school administration and the student body, I was merely off sick with something contagious so as to keep visits to a minimum. It seemed to be working as of yet, seeing as the only visitor I’d had, excluding Frank of course, was Alex. She had just dropped in on the way to her grandparent’s house, and so, luckily, she could only stay for a maximum of ten minutes. In spite of the anxiousness that her visit appeared to bring, and that paranoia that she would somehow figure out that I was lying about my illness, I have to admit that it was refreshing to see a familiar face that wasn’t filled with sympathy and concern.
Don’t get me wrong; I love the feeling of knowing that people worry and care about me, but it was nice to actually have some normal conversation, something that I hadn’t felt that I’d had for a long time. Of course, Frank would occasionally tell me of incidents at school or silly things that some one in the group had done, but the conversation would have continuous intervals for him to ask if I was alright, or whether I wanted or needed anything. It was just nice to feel normal again, even for such a short period of time.