“How are you today, Ana?” My therapist, Dr. Lombardi, asks me at the beginning of our session on my second full day at Bernard’s.

I flash her a grin and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. “Oh, I’m just dandy. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re dandy?” She wonders with raised eyebrows.

I nod. “Of course I am. I heard that we get cheesecake on Fridays. What else is there to live for?”

She taps the end of her pencil on her notepad as she pretends to think of something to say when I know full well that she knows exactly what she’s going to say already. “I don’t think that you’re so… as you put it, ‘dandy’. I think that you’re probably not very okay at all. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m here because I slit my wrists at my own graduation party,” I remind her. “Just because I want to die doesn’t mean that I’m not feeling okay today. I feel just fine.”

“Well, I’ve looked at your file, Ana, and it seems as if you’ve been having problems for the past two and a half years but you were out on your own for a whole year before this. Can you tell me what happened?”

“It’s been three years, actually,” I tell her. “I started having problems on exactly August 8th, 2012 at 12:26 a.m.. I was only institutionalized in December, which is probably where you’re getting the two and a half from. But yes, I have been around the block before. I know how all of this works.”

“Okay, well then why don’t we just start at the beginning, alright? What happened on August 8th?” Dr. Lombardi starts to prod, preparing her pen to start writing when I start talking but she’s about to be royally disappointed with my answer.

“No,” I say sharply, feeling bad for my sudden sharp tone because this therapist is really nice from what I can tell from the only other session I’ve had with her. Especially compared to my business-attitude therapists up in Alaska. My therapist back home in LA that I would see two times a week was really cool though, and I’m not sure of Dr. Lombardi can live up to his standards but she is pretty nice so I like her. “I don’t want to talk about it. I know that you will tell me that I should face my problems- take it head on or whatever- but I can’t do it. Every time one of my doctors makes me relive that night, it never ends well for me. I end up leaving feeling even crappier than I did going in.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because. I’ve spent so much time building up walls and walls to keep that memory as far away from me as possible and I don’t plan on ever taking them down. I’m sure all of the psychology classes that you have taken will tell you to tell me that going through that night with you will make it better- it will give me closure or whatever. I don’t care though because none of those classes can ever explain what happened to me. There is no right way to handle this type of situation and I don’t think that you have the right to force me to tell you about it unless you know firsthand what I’ve been through- and I pray to a million suns that you don’t. I don’t mean any disrespect, Dr. Lombardi, I really don’t, but it’s just not going to happen,” I tell her with an apologetic frown. “I can’t do it.”

“I think that you can do it,” She counters. “But if you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s okay too. I want you to take your time and then maybe later, we can talk about it. Let’s talk about something easier. How about your gap. You went through a whole year without an incident, can you tell me what that was like?”

“It was amazing,” I tell her honestly. “I spent a lot of time with my brother and his girlfriend because she’s really nice and awesome. I don’t really have any friends, but I’m on the internet a lot, when I’m not with my family. I was… I don’t know, happier than I was before. Well, I wouldn’t consider it happy, but I was much less miserable than I was up in Alaska, locked away in some prison like an animal, like I am now. I know that it’s for my safety and health and well-being and all of that jazz but I’d still rather be home than here.”

“That’s very understandable,” Dr. Lombardi nods at me. “What’s your brother’s name? How old is he?”

“Well, his name is Penn and he’s twenty-one now. He goes to UCLA and he’s majoring in psychology, actually. He’ll graduate next year, so that’s exciting. Too bad he didn’t graduate this year because then we could have graduated together and that would have been cool,” I explain. “He’s really awesome. Especially because he’s majoring in psychology but he never tries to bring that home to me- to try and analyze my moods like a therapist would. Not that I hate therapists, you’re all so rad. It’s just that therapists and brothers have two completely different roles in a person’s life and luckily, Penn gets that. Honestly, he’s one of the very few reasons that I haven’t tried harder to die. Penn and my father, because he’s really awesome too, and Peter I guess.”

“Only them?” She wonders, writing stuff down on her notepad. I’d given up long ago to try and figure out what my doctors write about me in their notepads because I have realized that they will never, under any circumstances, tell me what they are writing. “Don’t you want to live for yourself?”

“Jeez,” I scoff. “Absolutely not. I absolutely want to die. The only thing that I want more in this world than to die is for my family to be happy. Unfortunately, my death will bring them great sorrow- which is why they’re paying top dollar for this fancy place all the way across the country to make me better. I hate myself but I love my family and I would do anything for them- even if it means staying alive when the only thing I want to do is to die.”

“What do you think that their reactions would be if you were to die?” Dr. Lombardi asks me.

I scrunch my face up and I start to think of how my father would react, finding me dead in my bedroom with bloody wrists or a belt around my neck. And then I think of how Penn would react to the phone call that he’d get from my father. “Well, I’d be rushed to the hospital first and then they’d all be waiting in the waiting room,” I describe to the doctor, trying to describe to her exactly how I see it happening in my head. “My mom will be there, already on the phone with the lawyer to talk to the judge because- believe it or not- attempted suicide is actually very illegal. And she’d be planning to send me to some other place completely around the globe, maybe this time in Africa or something. And then, the doctor will come out into the waiting room. Everybody will shoot to their feet with red eyes to hear the news. Sienna will probably be there with Penn but other than that, it’d probably just be my parents and maybe Peter. The doctor would tell them that finally, the attempted suicide wasn’t so… attempted. I didn’t make it. My mom wouldn’t cry at first, she’d wait until she was alone and then she’d get right on planning a brilliant funeral. My brother would fall into Sienna, that’s his girlfriend, and he’d probably cry or he’d deny the whole thing completely and punch something. My dad though, he’d blubber like a newborn baby. He’s a crier, my dad is. They’d blame themselves. They’d be crushed.”

“That’s pretty detailed,” She comments. “Have you thought of that type of thing before?”

“Oh, yes, definitely. All of the time. Every time I really want to die, I think of my family crying in that waiting room and I remind myself that I can’t do that to them, and so I don’t do it,” I tell her honestly.

“Well then what made you do it at your party? Did you not remember your family?”

“No, that isn’t it,” I say quickly. “I just… sometimes, on a very rare occasion, I feel too selfish to care too much about how my family will react. I don’t care, I just know that I need to die. When I saw the news that that man could get out on parole, I completely lost it. I couldn’t think about anything except for the fact that he was going to come after me. It was going to happen again.”

“Do you believe that you’re safe now?”

“No,” I answer immediately without any hesitation at all and Dr. Lombardi is so surprised by my reaction that she starts writing something else on her notepad and I lean back in my chair, slouching in the comfortable dark brown chair that looks like it belongs in somebody’s living room. “Especially since I’m apparently not allowed to know about the trial and if he’s actually getting out on parole, which is completely ridiculous, by the way.”

She nods, apparently understanding what I’m referring to. “Yes. I asked your family not to discuss the parole hearing with you because I think that it focuses you on the hearing too much when that’s really not what you’re afraid of. I think the real problem here is that you’re still afraid of him.”

“Of course I’m still afraid of him,” I tell her. “Why the heck shouldn’t I be afraid of him? After what he and his friends did to me? I should be completely terrified of him, and I am.”

“Well, I can understand where you’re coming from with your fear of this man and the triggers that this hearing has for you but if you just learn to get over your fear of this horrific event repeating, then you will feel a lot more peaceful. You have to realize that there is no possible way that this man or any of the others will ever get to you,” She explains.

“Why should I believe that?” I wonder. “He’s probably a psychopath and I went on trial against him and his friends so of course, he’s going to be pissed at me. Even after three years, I probably ruined his life. Granted, he ruined mine first and he totally deserves it, he’s still probably going to want revenge. I do want to die, but not like that. I don’t want him to kill me. I want to die on my own terms, not on his.”

“I want you to remember though, that he doesn’t know where you live or what you look like anymore. Not to mention the fact that while you’re here, there’s no way that he can get in since he’s not on our approved visitors list and he never will be. Our security is very tough here- mostly, it’s to keep patients inside, but it works well with keeping people out as well. Even when you go back home, you will be safe. You seem close to Penn, and your father, and I am confident that they will not let anybody hurt you again. I think that you should have that confidence in them as well.”

I shrug. “I just can’t think like that.”

“That’s okay,” She assures me. “We’ll keep working on it. This is only our second session and I’m already impressed with your behavior. You’re very willing to open up, especially since this is only our second session.”

“Like I said, I’ve been around the block. I know what’s going to happen so I’m just trying to pick up the pace a little bit so that I can go home faster.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” She tells me with a small laugh. “Anyway, it looks like we’re out of time for today, so as an ending note, I want you to keep something in mind for me, okay?”

“Sure thing,” I chirp. “What’s that?”

“As you’re going through your daily schedule, I want you to start thinking about reasons to live. Not just for your family, I want you to think of reasons why you want to be alive for yourself, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?”

“There aren’t many reasons other than my family to be alive,” I tell her quietly.

“I know that you think that now, but if you open your eyes a little wider and start to appreciate the smaller things in this world than maybe you can begin to appreciate the world as a larger concept and maybe- hopefully- you’ll like what you see and decide to want to stick around for just a little longer,” She says but when I continue to give her an apprehensive look, she just chuckles and playfully rolls her eyes at me, which is something that I’ve never seen a therapist do before. “Just trust me. I’m a doctor.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” I sigh. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, you may leave. Have a nice day, Ana,” She says to me as I stand up from the cozy brown chair that matches her brown office desk and the chair that she’s sitting in across from me, both chairs in front of her desk and then she has a desk chair sitting behind her desk.

“You too,” I offer her one last too-big-to-be-true grin and then I disappear out the door to go back into the common area to find something to do until dinner. As I’m walking, I try to think of what Dr. Lombardi said about finding reasons to be alive and I look around the hallway. What do I see?

Linoleum floor with a crème and light green pattern.

Off white walls.

Light panels that light up the hallway.

Brown doors.

Gold-colored door knobs.

My ugly white shoes.

My hideous baby blue scrubs.

My tan fleece.

A rusted electric outlet that’s been covered up with a piece of plastic so that nobody can get to it and probably try to electrocute themselves.

Yes, I can see all of the possibilities now. I can’t believe I ever didn’t want to live in a world with linoleum and these terrible blue scrubs. 

____________________________________

- Picture: Camille Winbush who plays Mia
- Song: Therapy by All Time Low

-So, I know her past seems kind of mysterious right now but I wanna make it clear that I'm not trying to make it mysterious, she's just not talking about it because she really doesn't want to talk about it. I can just smell all of the "It's so obvious what happened to her" comments now so I just wanna nip that in the bud. I know that it's obvious. 

- If you've read Lie Until You Laugh and Laugh Until You Cry, here's a little something that might make things clearer about the timeline of events so far:
LUYL: Sienna and Stella are in between junior and senior year. Ana is between sophomore and junior year.
LUYC: Sienna and Stella are in the middle of senior year. Ana is in the middle of junior year.
CUYB: Sienna and Stella are between first and second year of college. Ana just graduated high school. 

- I'm also thirty votes away from getting 1 Million so I'm going to start doing author spotlights soon as a big thank you so if you want one of those, stay tuned for more information- I'll talk about those on the next chapter and I'll also send a message to my beautiful followers.