Tiana POV

"M-Mom?" I say, my voice shaking.

I can't believe she's here. I can't believe she's not sitting on the sofa, numbing her pain to the point of destruction. I can believe she actually took a step out of the house for something that isn't drugs. I can't believe she's here, with tears falling down her cheeks abd a desperate sort fear screaming through her eyes.

But most of all, I can't believe she cares. I almost forgot she ever did.

She cries harder when I utter that one word and, for some reason, that brings me back to reality. Because my life can't get better. Because I can't escape. Because I can't be happy.

Because a pretty boy can't just enter my life and make everything better.

And that's when I realize that I actually agreed to stay in his guest house. I agreed to stay in this boy's guest house, this boy who I have only known for a few days. This boy who made a bet with his best friend to sleep with me the moment he saw me. This boy who makes me feel safe and yet so so scared.

What is wrong with me?

"I promise! I promise I'll try harder! I promise I'll do better! I'll be better. I'll become the mother you deserve just please please don't ever do that again," my mom says, sobbing and clutching me tightly, like she's afraid I might disappear the moment she lets go of me. The thought of disappearing doesn't sound unpleasent. Almost beautiful, actually.

"Mom," is all I say, even though I have so much more to say. Nine years worth of words trapped in my throat.

That one word though, that one small word that so many people take for granted, seems to have opened a dam inside me because within seconds, sobs wrack my body and tears stream down my ugly, contorted face and loud, guttural noises rip their way out of my throat while I clutch my mother with the same amount of strength she clutches me. I can't help it though. This is the first time I can actually hope to get my mother back.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh my sweet Tiara," she keeps repeating over and over again while I hold on to her tightly just to make sure this is real. That she's real. That I'm not dreaming.

If this is a dream then I never want it to end.

Just then the doctor enters the room. A middle-aged man with a surprising amount of hair on his head considering his age.

"Hello Tiana, it's nice to see you awake and well," he says politely, giving me a small smile. I don't say anything. I just stare warily at him.

He sighs then, probably seeing my lack of trust in him. I don't know what else he expected.
It probably isn't the first time he's seen an expression like mine though, because he sighs in defeat. Like he knows nothing he does is going to make a difference. It makes me like him a little more. Maybe.

"Okay, lets start with introductions. I'm Dr. Edwards. I'm the guy that kept you alive, in case you were wondering. And I'm the guy that's going to sign your discharge papers," he says. His response makes me like him even more, even though I know that the only reason he gave me such a respose is to make me feel more comfortable. Mission accomplished.

"Ever think that maybe I didn't want you to save me?" I ask. I know my anger is unwarranted but it doesn't feel that way.

"Ever think that maybe you weren't given this life just to throw it away?" he asks back. His words may have been harsh, but his expression shows his true kindness. His smile could be nothing but genuine. He's a good man. I never knew those existed. Generic as his words are, they hit home.

"Anyway, your injuries, though bad, are now healed but you have to stay here for three days so you can heal properly and to make sure the cut doesn't tear open. In those three days, you are going to have to go for therapy sessions-"

"No!" I exclaim before he can finish.

"Look Tiana, I know it's not something you want, but it's something you need because-"

"No!" I exclaim, interrupting him again. "I refuse to talk to someone I don't know nor trust about my problems!"

"Tiana," Tyson says, speaking up for the first time since my mom came in like a tornado of desperation, sadness and guilt. "I know it's hard, but it'll be good for you."

"Oh? And you know me well enough to know whats good and bad for me?" I ask back angrily, sudden rage taking over me.

They don't know me. I don't need this. I can get through this on my own.

"Please, my little Tiara. I'll do it too," my mom, mom, pleads.

"I can't mom... I can't be hurt by another person I trust, if I trust the person. To that person it's just a job. I'm just a job to that person, a way for that person to gain money. But to me it'll be so much more because it will be the first time I'll be opening up to someone. I can't bear losing another person I trust if I trust this person. I can't bear it," I say. My mother flinches. She knows I'm talking about her. I don't pretend to be talking about anyone else.

The doctor's eyes soften.

"Do you want to know something?" the doctor asks. I don't reply. He continues anyway.

"My daughter was in the same position as you a year ago. Vehemently denying help even though she was on a hospital bed for an injury she created herself. She told herself that she could go through it on her own. But I convinced her to go to therapy. Now she's the happiest that I have ever seen her and she has told me, repeatedly, how thankful she is that I convinced her to go to therapy. Sometimes you don't know what you need until actually get it. Sometimes what seems like the worst thing in the world will actually do you a lot more good than you can do yourself. And sometimes you have to learn how to lean on someone else because sometimes your burdens may be too much for you to carry," the damn doctor says, looking at me expectantly.

He had a mesmerizing way of convincing others.

But I too had an irritating way of being stubborn.

And he knew it too.

"Anyone can say anything. I can say I have the most perfect parents and I just did this to get their attention. I can say I am the happiest person in the world. I can say I love life and live it to the fullest. But that's not true. So how can I be sure that you aren't just saying that so you never have to get me as a patient again?" I challenge. From the corner of my eye I see my mother flinch.

He sighs.

A young nurse in her early twenties, my nurse, comes towards us then. She has startlingly red hair and blue eyes.. About as blue as the doctor's eyes.

Oh....

"I see you now know that he's my dad. It's the eyes, isn't it? Well anyway, what I want to say is that things do get better. They do. Life doesn't just give you obstacles, it gives you blessings as well. You just have to know when it comes along," she says.

I still stay stubborn.

"I was raped," she says abruptly, startling me. "By my boyfriend. When I didn't give him what he wanted, he took it from me. Without consent. I hated it. I felt so dirty. I felt so used. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to relive the pain. But therapy helped me get back on track and now I get to help others in shitty situations. And I love it. I would like to hope that one day you too will get the chance to be someone you like," she says. That last line hit me like a brick.

I had always hoped to change. To become a better version of myself. To be better. I had hoped it would change things. But at the end of the day I'm still me. Plain, worthless ol' me.

"I was raped by my father multiple times, so I know what you feel," I say but I don't look at her. I don't know why I said that really. I just wanted to tell her something since she told me something.

I don't look at anyone, especially my mother. Even when I hear a sharp intake of breathe and muffled sobs. The only thing I look at are my bandaged wrists that rest on my lap with and IV attached to them. They're so pale and thin.

"Kitty," Tyson whispers, a broken sound.

"Oh," the nurse whispers. She gives me a pitiful look. I hate pity. I hate it. I don't need pity.

I search for a way to change the subject. "What's your name?" I ask.

"Adalyn Edwards. But please call me Lynn. I hate my name," she says, not pointing out the obvious changing of topic.

"I gave you that name young lady!" Dr. Edwards scolds.

"And what a horrible name it is," Lynn says cheekily, smirking.

"This is the appreciation I get for raising you. Disrespect," he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Well you raised me, you should have known the type of person I was becoming," Lynn says, still smirking cheekily.

It's clear from their short interaction that they were close. That they loved each other. That they would do anything for each other. That they ment the world to each other.

I wonder what it's like to mean the world to someone.

"Why did you tell me all this?" I ask. Because I'm selfish, and seeing the relationship she had with her father hurt me. Because I don't want them to continue their playful banter while I lie there knowing I'll never have that. Because I don't want to be reminded of what I could have had. What I should've had. What I want to have.

Normalcy. What a weird word. Is anyone really normal? Or are they just good at hiding their problems and their pain?

"What?" she asks, clearly a little surprised by my question.

"It was clearly a horrible moment in your life. So why did you tell me, a random stranger, one of the most darkest moments of your life?"

She sighs. "Because as much as you try to tell yourself that you can do it alone, and that you don't need someone to hold you, a small part of you knows that it would be so much better if someone was by your side. And I know that, right now, it isn't reassurance you need, but someone you can relate to. And maybe I haven't gone through as much as you seemed to have gone through, but I can still relate to you on some level, and I know how much that helps," she says sincerely. I don't know why, but these words uttered by this person I just met who is apparently named Lynn bring a sense of relief because, yes, she does seem to understand me. And yes, that is what I need right now. A warm feeling spreads through me. Safety. I feel safe.

She smiles.

I gave her a small smile in return.

"I knew you could smile!" Lynn exclaims, a wide smile on her face. "And you have dimples!"

I immediately cover up the smile. "No I can't. What are you talking about? Your mind is playing tricks on you," I say, trying to keep an exaggeratedly serious face. I know I have never opened up to anyone as much as I seem to have opened up to the people in this room.

"Boobies," she whispers in my ears, and a small giggle immediately escapes me.

"That's all it took for you to laugh? Seriously Kitty? I should have tried that before! I could have talked about boobs all day!" Tyson exclaims. His grey eyes seem to have a small spark of happiness in them when he heard me giggle.

"Not from a lack of visual proof, I suppose," I mutter.

He doesn't say anything, he just winks at me.

The nerve of this boy.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. Tyson's eyes seem to show some strange emotion when he saw me wrinkle my nose. Something like....affection. But that can't be it. He can't show affection to someone so... broken.

"Okay, let's stop this particular topic right here before it gets out of hand and I am forced to stuff a sock into someone's mouth," Dr. Edwards says, chuckling.

"I'm pretty sure doctors are not supposed to stuff socks in thier patients, or the patient's visitor's, mouths," Tyson says, raising an eyebrow.

"What they don't know won't kill them," Lynn says, smirking slyly.

"What's to say I won't tell on you?" Tyson challenges.

"How can you tell on me with a sock in your mouth?" Lynn throws back.

"I think the highly visible and obvious sock in my mouth would make my statement clear," Tyson says, smirking victoriously.

"What's to say you haven't just gone insane and therefore decided that a sock in your mouth is the new trend or something? Those kind of things happen in hospitals you know," Lynn says innocently.

Tyson snorts. "Oh? And my entirely coherent and highly understandable speech pattern will totally be overlooked."

"Who says you were ever coherent or understandable? I mean, just a few minutes ago you were trying to talk to me, a girl, about boobs," I cut in. I don't miss the flicker of surprise and extremely raw happiness in his eyes. It warms my heart just a little.

He grabs his chest dramatically and says, "Even my dear Kitty has turned on me. How can I live with the sword of betrayal hanging over my head? A sword placed there by my most trusted of acquaintences?"

I snort. "And I thought girls were Drama Queens. They have nothing on you, Piggy."

His eyes glow again and if I look closely enough, I can see a few streaks of blue in his grey eyes. Pretty.

Suddenly fatigue starts to settle in and I feel more tired than I ever have. This day has been an emotional train ride and it has started to come down on me all at once.

I close my eyes, fully intending to just get my bearings before I open them again but sleep doesn't evade me and before I know it I'm fast asleep.

The last thing I feel is the press of dry, chapped lips, that could belong to no-one but my mother, on my forehead. Her voice resonates in my skull, bringing a wave of hope with it.

"I love you, my little girl. Forever and always."

"I love you too mom. Always and forever," I mumble. I hear a sharp intake of breathe but I'm too gone to dwell on it.

For the first time in forever, I sleep peacefully.

~~~~~~~~

Well... This chapter wasn't the best... Again... But eh...

I haven't really had inspiration for a while now. I don't really know why. I guess it's the lack of views or the lack of inspiration or maybe my own laziness I don't really know. All I know is that I'm gonna continue writing. Also, it's been raining like shit over here.

This chapter is a little more... Happier than the rest. It's just to show that Tiana is love-depraived and how much happier she is to have the people she loves, loving her in return.

Sorry for the mistakes that are obviously gonna b there. I'm sleepy and almost slept at least 2 times while I writing this.

*Waves*

Bye:)