Greya's POV...

Acceptance. Such a complicated word. What it means for one person may not mean the same thing to another.

It's been almost three years since Becker passed and I'm still learning ways to accept it, although deep down I know I never will.

Cope? Sure I'm coping, we all are. We have no other choice but to live our lives the best we can without the ones we loved living theirs with us.

If we make the wrong choices or change our personality and perspectives, so be it. As long as we're coping.

"Chase? Are you ready? Fynn's going to drop you off at Parker's house while I go to my appointment."

"Almost!" He yells from his room.

Fynn walks into our tiny kitchen and places two bagels into the toaster. "Are you sure you don't want one?"

"Thanks Fynn, I'm good. And thanks for bringing Chase to his friend's house for me."

"We're a team, remember?" He continues to remind me daily.

We do make a great team. We don't always know what we're doing, but we've been through so much and we're surviving while raising this kid together.

Poor Chase spent six whole months alternating from being angry to crying in my arms every day after Alec and Becker passed away. I felt like doing the same but I needed to be strong for Chase. I don't have the luxury of crawling into a hole and disappearing when I'm trying to be responsible for raising another human being. God only knows I'd feel better if I could leave my world behind.

As soon as we graduated from high school, I did the only thing I could do to possibly leave all our troubles behind. I sold our family home and Fynn and I and Chase moved to L.A.

Chase begged for a new start, so we gave him one. And so far it's been the best decision I've ever made.

We have a three bedroom apartment only a half mile walk from UCLA campus. It's small but perfect for us and was easy for Chase to navigate after learning the layout.

The first year here was a struggle. Chase insisted on attending a normal school. So, I enrolled him into a small private school. The teacher's and staff have been very accommodating and his entire curriculum is accessible in braille. But, a normal school with peers who have their sight was a difficult transition, especially when he was still suffering from the same loss the rest of have been suffering. What happened to Alec and Becker is something that changed us inside and accepting help was the only way we could begin to move on.

Chase and I began seeing a new grief counselor once a week together. It really helped him to talk about his feelings with someone other than myself. I couldn't help him with his grief while I was dealing with so much of mine.

He now sees the therapist alone and so do I. Hence my appointment today.

"I'm ready!" Chase happily bounces through the kitchen.

"Here's your bagel, let's get going," Fynn says then turns to give me a hug. "See you tonight."

Chase has made many new friends since his therapist has helped him learn to live with all our past tragedy. Those horrible experiences will never leave us, but we can learn ways to move forward. That's exactly what Chase is doing and I'm proud of him. Now if only I could do the same.

He's back to his happy self and is enjoying life again. Parker is his best friend and is so patient and accepting of his blindness. Parker's parents are too. They treat us like family and it's refreshing to know that there are good people out there who don't try and judge us.

"See ya, Grey! Parker's parents will bring me home after dinner."

"Okay Bud, have fun! I love you."

"Love you too Sis!"

I have some spare time to walk to my favorite coffee shop on campus before my therapy appointment.

It's convenient that we can walk to almost everywhere we need to. Walking gives me time to reflect on my day. I'm not going to say my life because I'm only living day by day. My therapist thinks it's better that I only focus on one day at a time until I learn to accept the horrors of my past, which will never happen. Instead I focus on taking care of Chase, playing soccer, tending to my studies, and keeping only my four close friends around with me. I have no room for anything else, especially dating or risking my already broken heart again. It's better this way. Becker consumed the only space I had left in my heart, and he died, taking that piece of my heart with him.

The coffee shop is quiet today, only one other customer in line ahead of me. I get my usual salted caramel latte and turn to look for a place to sit.

The chairs are mostly empty except for the person sitting in the far corner. As I get closer to his table, I notice he's working on his laptop. His back is towards me, his hoodie over his head, and I'm only noticing him because it's 90 degrees outside and seems odd to be bundled up in a sweatshirt.

I spot an empty seat closer to the door while I walk by this person. For a brief second he raises his head from his work and sharply inhales. He's twirling around his pen in his fingers and the memories that come crashing through my head almost have me drop my latte.

"Beck," I whisper to myself.

My body takes over my mind, inching me closer to this person until I notice his cane under the table and a brace on his leg. He doesn't know I'm watching him use only one arm to drink his coffee and then type on his keyboard. I'm shamefully staring at a disabled person, wanting to see his face so my messed up brain can register that this isn't Becker, Becker's dead. I'm hallucinating again.

My body again moves quicker this time and right out the door. I need some fresh air. I need to get to my therapist before I have a mental breakdown in front of all the happy people walking by me.

I somehow make it into her office while hyperventilating. "Greya, what happened?" She kindly asks while guiding me to sit on her couch.

Tears well up my eyes yet the don't fall, they never do, I won't allow it. If I did, then Becker would really be gone.

Her hand stays on my shoulder waiting for me to collect myself.

"Tell me what happened," she says again. At this point she probably already thinks I'm crazy anyway.

"I saw him again." I admit to her.

"Are you having dreams of him again?" I almost laugh. The dreams never go away. Sometime they're dreams of him and I happy together and sometimes they're the nightmares of him being murdered. Always a different horrifying scenario from not knowing the truth of what really happened.

"Not a dream. I saw him at the coffee shop."

She's calm and her voice neutral when she responds to my madness. "Did you see his face?"

"No."

"What made you think that was him?"

"He was twirling a pen around in his fingers the same way Beck always did when he was working on something." More water collects in my eyes thinking about it.

"How did you realize it wasn't really him?" Thinking of that now makes me feel like a jerk.

"He was handicap. I was staring at a handicap person just because he was twirling his pen," I shamefully tell her.

"I though I saw him last week too, sitting in the library, he had the same hair. I never see his face...Am I having these hallucinations because I'm forgetting what he looks like?" My breathing rapid again.

"How did you handle that in the Library?"

"I had Chase with me so we went straight for the books we were looking for."

"Greya, it's normal for a person to go through these things as you are. You weren't able to see his body after and there wasn't a funeral so that makes it even harder for you to accept that he's gone."

She's right. They were cremated and buried, there wasn't any closure. I could never get myself to believe that his ashes were underneath that gravestone.

"If I knew what really happened that night, maybe... I don't know."

"Greya, do you think reliving his final moments, knowing how he suffered would be the best thing?"

"I don't want to think about him suffering. He suffered for so long before that and I know he's no longer suffering now. I'm the one suffering. I'm going crazy."

"You're not crazy. The things you've seen, the people you've lost, and the responsibilities you have at such a young age... You're a survivor Greya!"

"I don't feel like I'm surviving."

"You are. It takes time. Everything takes time." I hate that word, time.

"We can try you on some new meds that will help with your anxiety and depression? What you're taking now is probably the wrong medication."

"Yeah, okay, I'll try them." I'll try anything.

" And Greya, for every sad or negative thought you have, match it with a positive one. You have so many positives. Chase is doing well and he's thriving in his new school, you're still able to play the sport you love, you're keeping your grades up, your close friends are always around you. Think of all the things you've been able to accomplish after all the turmoil. You are a survivor and you will survive through this one day."

I hope she's right.