I had worked myself up all day and convinced myself that going home was a really, really bad idea, so I went straight to Brie’s after last class. I didn’t feel much like explaining the ins and outs of my dramatic attempt at convincing her to cancel her plans for the afternoon, so I was thankful when she didn’t question me. Instead, she spent the better part of an hour trying to convince me to attend the party with her on Friday. I told her no, but she wouldn’t listen. I continued to allow her to chew my ear off about the whole Taylor thing. It was a blessing, actually. It took my mind off going home and facing my parents.

I was almost certain that Doctor Jacobs had called Jen and Andy already, explaining everything, and I didn’t know them well enough to understand how they would be feeling. Pissed off came to mind, though, and I was already regretting my hasty decision not to go back.

As much as I hated to admit it, the truth was I was wrong and Doctor Jacobs was right. He had touched a nerve, which left me second-guessing my own sanity. That didn’t sit well with me.

As much as his persistent need to push me left me feeling angry, he was doing the only thing that worked and he was doing it for my benefit. He wasn’t an arsehole, and most of the time I did like him and enjoyed speaking to someone who was in no way connected to me. I always knew I could say exactly how I felt without the worry of being judged—until recently, that was. He was right, though. I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was taking the easy way out.

The truth was, the very thought of remembering my former life scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t sure I could cope with any changes when my memories came to light. There was a reason I couldn’t remember, after all. Maybe some part of me didn’t want to. In a way, it would be easier not to. Who knew? Maybe the girl I’d been before the accident was a psychotic bitch. If that was the case, I really didn’t want to remember.

I crept through the front door later that evening, careful not to draw attention to myself. It had just started getting dark as we turned into my street after Brie insisted she drive me home. Jen’s car was sitting in the driveway. That didn’t surprise me. I just hoped she had turned in for the night already so I wouldn’t have to face her so soon, but when I saw all the downstairs lights shining through the window, I knew she was very much awake, most likely waiting for me to come home.

I waved goodbye to Brie and quietly opened the front door. Slipping my feet out of my shoes, I gently placed them on the shoe rack and began my quiet trek up the steps, pausing as my foot hit the third step. I could hear muffled noises coming from the kitchen, which forced me to stop.

This was stupid.

I felt like a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl creeping through her bedroom window after being grounded. I definitely didn’t feel like a nineteen-year-old college student. The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous this whole thing was. I should have been able to just bite the damn bullet and go and speak to them. That would be the adult thing to do. I was pathetic. Seriously, pathetic.

I twisted on the spot and inhaled a much-needed breath. Taking the first step down, I released it slowly. Then I continued my way down to the bottom.

As I took the first few steps into the kitchen, I fought the internal battle causing havoc in my head. Part of me wanted to leg it back up the stairs to the safety of my room. The weak part, that was. The other half knew that if I was going to stand any chance of making them understand, I needed to at least be able to speak to them about it. After all, they weren’t mind readers. Thank God.

Deciding it was about time I grew a metaphorical pair, I let my fingers drift over the door handle before gently curling them around the cold metal and slowly lowering it. Just as the lock clicked open, I froze. Not because of the voice on the other side of the door, but because it was apparent that whoever Jen was speaking to, she was speaking to them about me.

My breath caught in my throat, and as much as I wanted to turn and run, I couldn’t. It was like that moment when you passed an accident on the side of the road and knew you shouldn’t look but couldn’t help it. That desperate urge inside of you had you peering at it. Just like in those uncontrollable moments, I felt that urge—that sickening, masochistic urge to stay put and listen in.

Jen’s voice was quiet and filled with a tone I knew all too well: concern. I guessed that whoever she was talking to had upset her. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed my ear to the smooth oak door, trying hard to listen to what was being said on the other side.

“I told you not to push her, Greg,” I heard her say. “Yes, I am all too aware of that.”

I was too busy trying to work out who Greg was when Jen cleared her throat and said, “And she is our daughter.”

My brows knitted in confusion. The name hadn’t registered at first, but once it did, I let out a small gasp and quickly covered my mouth.

Greg was my therapist. I’d never actually called him by that name. That was way too personal and I made it my mission to call it how it was. He was my therapist. My Doctor.

“I trusted you, and I pay you God knows how much to help her, not send her straight back to the beginning.”

Jen was angry. I’d never heard her yell before. Admittedly, it was a quiet anger, but it was still a yell. It had me retreating back and cringing. Poor Greg. I once again rested my ear against the door, feeling bad for Doctor Jacobs. After all, it was my fault that Jen was currently unleashing her inner beast on him. There was the longest pause before she finally released a frustrated sigh.

“Well, I wouldn’t know that because she didn’t show up after school. No. It’s not like her at all,” she continued to say, and again, I felt like shit. “Well, let’s just hope you haven’t damaged her any more than she already was.”

I had heard all I could stand. Jen thought I was damaged. Doctor Jacobs thought I was damaged, and everyone at college thought I was damaged. I could handle most things. God, I’d grown a thick skin when it came to name calling and whispering, but to learn that even my own mother, the one person in the world that was meant to love me beyond anything, thought I was too damaged. It felt like a blow to the stomach—slow and painful.

It didn’t matter how much I wanted to feel normal again, or how hard I tried to remember the accident, I couldn’t. When your own mother pretty much admits how fucked up you are, it’s impossible to comprehend anything ever going back to how it used to be.

With my fingers still latched onto the door handle, I gently eased it back into place and tiptoed through the hall and up the stairs to my room with Jen’s words still lingering in the back of my mind.

My bedroom was my sanctuary, the only place I could really ever be myself. Inside those four walls, I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. Nor did I have to worry about the whispers behind my back that were clear for me to hear. All I had to do was hit play on the docking station and let the soft music envelope me in a blanket of comfort, blocking out the white noise that made me crazy

Stretching out on the bed, I brought my knees up to my chest and tucked the throw around me. I angled my head towards the sky, taking in the dim lighting that the last glimpse of the sunset had cast over the ceiling. White lights danced above me freely, and a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

I hadn’t felt free in such a long time. It was a notion so simple, yet it felt completely impossible to achieve.