[A/N: Get ready for a long chapter. And get ready to get to know more about Rue's life💐
Here's a lil song for this chapter:
Ready now by Dodie]

I looked at the wall above my bedside table, as I put my bag down after coming home from therapy a few days later. There, the certificate hung, framed like a painting. It instantly filled me with joy. And relief. I had to keep reminding myself that I was here. That I was supposed to be here. I was Ruth Miranda. And I didn't have to worry about what was next for me.
I tapped my leg to make it feel true.
Then, I looked at the post-it on my desk.
"Tell them your story", it said.
A reminder of something I hadn't been ready for.
But, I was ready now.

I walked out into the living room.
Held my breath while walking past the spot of my near death.
Lin was already playing the piano, working out a melody I'd heard several variations of over the last few days.
Vanessa just came through the door, Sebastian running before her.
He was all muddy and wet from playing in the rain, making Vanessa shout:
"No, no, no, no, no!"
Deep down, I'd wanted to come with them to the park, if not just to sit on a bench and take in the world. I wanted to go outside. But every cell in my body told me not to.
I acted like a human shield so Sebastian wouldn't reach the living room before Vanessa could catch him.
"Thanks", she said, smiling at me as she caught him in her arms, getting all the mud on herself too. "Let's get you cleaned up, buddy", as she kissed his cheek, making him laugh just the way a little kid could.
They went down the hall again.
I sat down on the sofa, picked up my copy of Pride and Prejudice. I still hadn't put my phone on again, and it was still off in the drawer of my bedside table.
I tapped my leg, and then blinked a few times.
"Lin?", I asked, looking over at him.
"Yeah, mija?", he replied, as he abruptly stopped playing to listen to me.
"How much do you know about my background?", I asked tentatively, almost whispering, avoiding the actual mission I had.
"Well, what you've told us. And we got a little information from your social worker, too", he said with a sincere look on his face. "You're from NYC, but you've been moving around a little in foster care..."
At the same time he got cut off, as Seb ran into the living room to hug Lin just because he hadn't seen him all day.
It was almost a relief. I was still making grounds, yet tiptoeing around the subject of me. Yet, I wanted to tell them. I wanted them to know.
I went back to my book. I still hadn't finished it. In one way or another, I didn't want it to be finished - I wanted it to be a constant in my life, because finishing would mean that that had to change too. So I held on to it.
I read the same sentence over and over, 23 times, before I could allow myself to move on.

Suddenly, Seb hugged me out of nowhere; making me jump. I skipped a breath, and my heart beat faster. I hadn't been prepared for it. I pressed further into the corner piece of the sofa, even though I knew the little person in front of me wasn't harmful.
It's Sebastian, I told myself. It's Sebastian.
He gave me a sad look, like he had been startled by my actions.
I took a deep breath.
It's Sebastian.
"Oh, I-I'm s-sorry Seb, I didn't see you coming", I told him, pulling myself together. In my mind, routines were piling up.
You scared him. Blink. Tap. Twitch.
I turned to Lin, my face panicked.
He was already on his way, and picked up Sebastian in his arms.
"Hey, Seb, you have to be careful with Hermana, okay?", he said gently, as he kissed Seb's forehead.
My pulse still hadn't come down to normal.
I blinked 23 times.
"I'm sorry", I told Lin. He shook his head.
"You can't help it", he said in response, as he put Sebastian down next to me. And so, Sebastian hugged my arm gently.
Surprisingly, I found myself smiling.
"Well, thank you, bud", I said, giggling at the situation so that Lin wouldn't have to worry about me. Still, my heart was beating fast and I had a pile of routines to do. It would be a while until I could relax fully. Until then I had to hide it.

It was after dinner and I was watching the news with Vanessa, something that had become one of my windows to the outside world. Some days we joked about the reporters wrong-sayings or the photobombing New Yorkers, and some days we were just quiet. Today was a day like that.
As the weather started playing, Lin came back after putting Sebastian to bed.
Vanessa put the TV on mute.
Start counting. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...
"How many fairytales did you have to read him tonight?", she giggled, insinuating that Seb had inherited Lin's love for stories. Some days that meant 10 different stories before bed.
8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16...
"Three, actually", he stated, sitting down on the armchair. "Although wanted one more, but he couldn't keep his eyes open for a second longer", and found himself chuckling. "He keeps doing this thing where he puts his index finger up, and says 'one more' in like one word. Wonmow", Lin said, imitating it, putting his hand to his heart and making Vanessa laugh. I smiled a little.
I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with them. Occasionally, I'd pet Tobi, who was curled up right next to me.
17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23...
They unmuted the TV, and finished the weather. It looked like it was going to be sunny tomorrow, for a change.
Maybe I could come with to the park then, I thought, only to disregard it with irrational thought of what may or may not happen.
Lin broke my viscous spiralling circle.
"Niñita? Earlier, when you asked about what we know about your past?", Lin asked me, however I didn't answer as I was counting in my head while I was tapping and imagining every possible scenario if I was to step outside the door.
He looked at me, realising that I was giving him my attention, but that I was also focusing on something else.
"And, I guess we just want you to know that it's okay for us to not know", he explained, assuring me of what I needed to hear.
"I mean, we know you now. We know that you don't eat chicken, but that you love chicken nuggets", Vanessa said, laughing, as she took my hand to hold so that I wouldn't tap. "And that your favourite musical is Mamma Mia because it makes you happy, to Lin's dissatisfaction, and that you love designing clothes, reading and playing board games. Plus, we also know that you really, and I mean really, love to make todo lists", she gave me a big smile. "But we also know that you sometimes have bad days. And that you sometimes want to do so much even though you can't. And that you're usually scared or sceptical of something until you've tried it. Like flying somewhere or drinking coffee, or... a new cereal. So we know that you don't like change or anything new", she continued. "So, the point is, we know you. And it's okay if we're still new to you"
That warmed me.
I think I even smiled a little.
I took a deep breath.
Finished counting to a 100 in my head.
Got a thought about what would happen if I told them.
They'll judge you. They'll resent you. They'll leave.
I imagined Dr Noma's think tree of what's rational in my head. The good outweighed the bad.
"You're a little new, still. But, it's good if you know, c'cause I don't want you to feel like you don't know me even though you do?", I mumbled, the sentence getting more confusing as it went on. I squinted my eyes closed so that they wouldn't leave me.
"That's okay, Rue-Rue. Only tell us if you feel okay with it", Vanessa said kindly.
I took a deep breath, while letting the door to my past open in an environment outside of therapy.
"My-my birth Dad was named Robert. But everybody called him Robbie", I smiled at the memory of my Dad, almost surprised by my reaction. "He... he worked in one of those open plan offices with cubicles. I don't really know what he did there. I think it had something to do with numbers, because that's all I could see on his computer screen. He worked a lot because it didn't pay very well so I didn't really see him that much. And when he got home he drank. How much varied: if it had been a shitty day, it was a lot. And, y'know, looking back, he probably had some mental illness besides the alcoholic and workaholic part. Some days he'd actually be really nice. Like he had good days", I said, partly covering up the bad days with the good ones. And I could hear myself doing it. I just didn't want to stain him.
"And it's not like he was abusive. He could be mean, but everyone can be mean. And I think he hit me sometimes when he had a bad day. But it wasn't that bad really. And he always said he was sorry because he got really sad afterwards.  I just had to do everything right, and it would be okay. He just couldn't take care of me, really, so I just took care of myself and him. And that was okay, because I knew he loved me because I was his daughter", I continued, hearing how messed up I sounded as I sugarcoated my past - because that's how I remembered it. And that's how I justified him. And justified my past, and my life, then and now.
A memory of him on a hot summer's day emerged, eating ice cream with me on a bench as we were watching people walk by. He'd let my play a game on his old phone. He hadn't been angry with me that day, and even let me play in the water from a fire hydrant wearing my normal clothes. When we got home we watched TV together, and he let me pick the channel. And he only had one beer. Though the next day, he had more, and I found him passed out at noon.
"H-he would have these peaks, when he'd decide that we were going to do something fun, like playing in the park or making dinner together, but it would usually end badly. I think the tipping point was when I was nine and he left me alone in a playground because he was mad at me for refusing to go home, and then after a few hours of desperately looking for him and trying to find my way home, someone saw me and called the cops. I knew the deal, they'd bring me home and tell my Dad not to leave me alone again, and it would all be over. But, it was like the fifth time that month that it had happened and they didn't believe me when I said that was just lost because that doesn't happen five times in a month", I was talking quickly. Trying to get over with it. And I didn't want them to interrupt me, to tell me that I didn't have to tell them. Because I did have to.
"So they didn't bring me back. Not even to say goodbye. I stayed at a temporary foster placement and a social worker came with my school backpack and a trash bag full of clothes, but really I was just... just waiting for him to come take me home. And I think I've been waiting for that until I met you", I suddenly heard my voice break, as I tried to hold back the tears.
Tap.
I did, counting every single one of them. Trying to focus on something else even though the only thing I saw in front of me was the million memories of my past.
"Rue-Rue, it's okay. You don't have to, remember? We're here for you either way", Vanessa said, squeezing my hand.
Blink.
I did.
"So, um. I lived with my Dad. My Mom, Sophie, would come and go. I like to think that we were a family up until I turned four. But I think she was quite absent before too, 'cause I only have one picture of us together. My Dad always believed that she would stay, but she never really did. Sometimes she'd just swing by for money to buy drugs. She had a few jobs that she never kept for more than a few weeks because of her drug addiction. Sometimes I think she didn't know who the father and just picked my Dad randomly because she knew she couldn't take care of me. The last time I saw her was on my seventh birthday, and because of her absence I've spent every Christmas at her parents', my grandparents', house every year because they wished to see me even though it was worse than being at home or in a foster placement", trying to explain how I became me, as I connected the many dots in my head.
I took a deep breath.
"My Dad always said that she had gotten clean when she realised that she was pregnant with me. But, then, when I was born too early, and was quite poorly, she didn't manage to stay clean even though that had been her plan. She had gone to the hospital herself because Dad was working late. I don't really know why she named me Ruth. I do know that April comes from the month I was born. Maybe she didn't care, or maybe she had already gotten high. So, as she spiraled out of control, they got covered in medical bills that they knew they would never be able to pay off. So, my Mom left. My Dad stayed. But neither of them were parents", it was as if I had rehearsed this for years in my mind. It hurt to tell, to acknowledge the truth, however it made me feel whole. During my therapy sessions, it had only left me broken.
"My Dad blamed me for Mom leaving. And I understand why. So I slowly learned that everything, when it comes to it, was always my fault", coming to a conclusion that I hadn't even told Dr Noma. "I didn't know that my Dad had died until J-j-jonath... the journalist told me it was my fault. And I guess it was", I didn't even know what I was saying anymore; it was just pouring out, every ounce of my life. Still, the name of the journalist, my uncle, was hard to say.
"He told me that my Dad killed himself. Funny, right?", but I was the only one laughing.
"It was a year after I had been placed in the system. Maybe he'd realised that he had lost both my Mom and me. Maybe he had a bad day. Maybe he didn't have any money left due to the medical bills. So, drunk, he hung himself in the kitchen. And no one told me. So, if I know my luck, my Mom probably overdosed years ago"
It had been a bad day when dr Noma told me about my Dad.
By now, I was blinking, tapping and twitching simultaneously as I kept my eyes fixed on a yellow book in the book case. I curled up against the corner, taking my hand out of Vanessa's grip.
"Rue...", Lin said, beginning a sentence which I cut off. I was getting frantic, blinking and tapping, as tears were running down my cheeks.
"So, honestly, there's no wonder that I got addicted to the antidepressants, or that I've got OCD, or that I tried to kill myself. Because it's in my DNA, really", my own words almost sounded like the one in my mind, as I was speaking the most I had in a long while.
It's your fault they're dead.
It's your fault they gave you up.
It's your fault.
You're a freak.
I gathered myself and fell back into my narrow, quiet, ways.
"It's my fault", I whispered under my breath, feeling my breath run out at the same time. It almost sounded like an egotistical thing to say.  Like I was just making myself out to be the victim. Making everyone feel sorry for me. That I was the reason everything was bad. Not only my life, but also everything else that was bad in other people's lives. "It's my fault", sounding so weak, so helpless, as I closed my eyes and let the thoughts attack me.
"No", Lin said, not accepting the end of my monologue. A monologue that deeply I regretted.
You shouldn't have told them. You should not have done that.
"It is your story. And I know you like to believe that things are either one thing or not, but the truth is that it's no one's fault", he said, now sitting in front of me, so that I couldn't fix my view on that one yellow book.
"And no one thinks it's your fault", Vanessa said, retaking my hand, squeezing it tighter this time. "It's just what you've been told your whole life. And I guarantee you that it isn't your fault you're the way you are. You are already perfectly cast in your life. And thus, you're the reason. You're not the fault", her words clear and poignant. "Can you say that, Niñita?"
Those words usually worked. Often, it would make me feel better about myself, and almost always it would help me out of the state of mind I was in. And they knew that - the whole ordeal.
I was still blinking and tapping, counting every single one simultaneously.
I went silent, thinking the words, one by one - only for it to have the opposite effect.
You're the fault.
It is your fault.
Everything is your fault.
It will always be your fault.
Everything will always be your fault.
Always.
I really tried to say it, to defy the power of my mind. To defy my destiny of just staying the way I was.
I inhaled slowly.
Exhaled slowly.
Breathed in a square.
But, the words just got louder.
My eyes watered up when I realised what was happening. How brainwashed, how self-destroying and how ignorant I was to my own mind. How I couldn't get the words out. Not even a syllable.
And for the first time, I acknowledged it. I recognised it and realised how scary it was to not be in control even when I thought I was.
"I... I don't think I can", admitting my defeat. I didn't have it in me. I'd never have it in me.
I just couldn't.
It just sat so deep, the mantra drilled into my head, burned onto my brain.
You're the fault.
"Oh, that's okay, Rue-Rue", Vanessa said, squeezing my hand.
"It's more than okay. You'll say it when you're ready", Lin told me kindly, as I just sat there, curled up in the corner, unable to say a few words.
Whereas I just wanted to tell them that I thought I would never be.
I looked down at my hands, just wanting them to focus on something else than me as I felt more thoughts coming on.
"C-can't we just watch TV or something?", I suggested, as I began to feel ashamed over how much I'd spoken this evening. How egoistic I'd been. How I'd asked them to focus on me.
"Yeah, yeah, sure", Lin said, standing up and hugging me quickly before taking the remote control in his hands. "What do you wanna watch?"
Quickly, I avoided the question.
"I don't know, just choose something you guys like", I said, leaning my head on one of the many pillows.
He nodded and put on Brooklyn 99.
As the episode went on, both Vanessa and Lin glanced at me every now and then. I wasn't really watching the show, as I was counting the many books in the bookcase, then the CDs beneath the CD player, and then the DVDs. Only to start over once I was done to make it up for my behaviour.
Blink and they won't die.
From somewhere in my mind, I was fascinated by how I could start of so determined, so confident, only to be destroyed by the end of it.
Exhausted, I felt my blinks getting slower and the counting lagging - as if I had been a child counting sheep to fall asleep.
So, before the credits rolled, I was gone into the land of what should have been dreams, but that for me was the land of nightmares.
After a while I could feel someone carrying me to my own bed, pulling the covers over me just as I liked them and kissed me goodnight. And it didn't scare me because I knew where I was and that I was meant to be there.

Two hours later I woke up screaming, like every other night. The minute I heard myself I put my hands before my mouth to silence myself, even though my heart rate was going faster and faster, even though I was covered in sweat, and even though I still saw him in front of me. I was praying that they hadn't heard me, even though I knew that they didn't mind being bothered by me. I forced myself to be quiet, to hide under the covers and count myself to sleep again as I for the first time in a few days scratched through the bandages on my arms.

Only to wake up 2 hours later, with that thought just echoing through my mind, imprinting on me.
It's your fault.
All I wanted was my antidepressants.
All I wanted was for those pills to make me feel like I was doing something. That they would make me better.
But, I knew that every medicine cabinet or box had a look on it, just like every other thing in this apartment that I could harm myself with was hidden.
And I knew I had made a promise.
To them, and to myself.
Yet, I couldn't keep myself from going deeper, scratching the old wounds on my arms again.
The instant relief was met with instant regret.
It was exhausting.
My life was exhausting.
But, I wasn't going to give up.
I'd tried that.
And it didn't make things any easier. Or better.

So, I fell asleep again.
Woke up again.
Panicked.
Replayed flashbacks of my past.
My Dad, Mom, grandparents and uncle. A few foster homes.
And so on, until my alarm went off.
My arms hurt a lot.
My sheets were covered in blood.
I turned away from the wall I'd been staring at all night and sat up, knowing they'd ask how I'd slept, and that I'd have to tell them the truth if I didn't get to the bathroom before they could see me.
I saw Vanessa standing in the doorway.
"I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry V", I said, defeated, miserable and desperate. Because I knew I couldn't have stopped myself.
She didn't look disappointed, nor devastated by my state of body and mind. Instead, she was upset at herself for not noticing me waking up in the night. But, she hid it well, and put on a small smile to make me feel better as she walked towards me.
"No, no. I know you didn't want to. Let's get you cleaned up, Niñita", she told me and held out her hand.
It was almost reassuring, the way she just accepted my step back.
And so, I accepted her reaching out, and took her hand.
I looked out my window, realising that the sun was out.
I let myself ask something.
"Can I come with to the park today?"

—————
Hello hello hello!👋
So, in this chapter you got to know a little about Rue's past. Or a lot, actually. Hopefully I depicted the dysfunction of the relationship well, and how she really tries to avoid even thinking about it because it makes her sad💓 But Rue will continue to tell her story, I promise☺️

So, how is everyone? I can tell you that I made a recovery from COVID in about a week and got back to work after eight days. I got lucky, to say the least, and so many people haven't been as lucky as I was💐

Besides having COVID, I've had a chill summer of spending time with family and trying to enjoy this time😌 I usually get quite anxious about the things I have to do, like work, and the things I want to do bc I guess I have a fear of missing out or not doing enough when I don't have work? But it's better this summer and I actually feel sort of good so yay🎉

This was actually a chapter that was both easy and difficult to write. Figuring out how to make things make sense. Naming her mom? I found that so hard for some reason. Although there's also an underlying reference in her Mom's name and the story with her mom. Can you figure it out? (Clue: less happy version of Mamma Mia)👀

Q of the day: Tell me anything! What's going on with you, what you're up to today, how you are, if it's your birthday, what you love doing, what makes you excited or sad, if you're having a bad day, or tell me something randomly weird! Let's start a conversation in the comments🌿🍃
Me? I'm excited for the Olympics! I'm not a very sporty person, but with these sports events coming back it feels like the world is coming back, doesn't it?💓

Anyway. Hopefully you liked the chapter, and if you did, please leave a vote or a comment🌻

Have the loveliest of days,
Sincerely,
H

Published: 23rd of July, 2021