Two days later, Doctor Steele is officially reported missing.

The house was quiet before, but now the silence is suffocating.

Yesterday, Mum was called back to the hospital, probably to give a statement or to help on the case. She hasn't spoken to me since coming back.

Since my panic attack, Dr. Light hasn't requested a session and neither has my Mum. Not me.

I don't get to choose.

I'm sitting in my room, with the curtains shut – my permanent state for 48 hours.

I can't even hear her voice anymore, which I thought I would consider to be a good thing. But it's lonely here, all by myself. The hole in my chest somehow comes as a surprise.

Lowering my head, I lean into the silence, welcoming it. It's exactly like that room in my head: silent. Empty.

The memory spills over as Mum opens the door, eyes darker than the rings around them.

When she speaks, my mind still blocks out my name. If I don't hear it soon, I'm not sure I'll be able to pull myself out of the dark. No name, no identity.

It's as if I won't allow myself to exist.

"Sweetheart? Do you think you'd be up to that?" Blinking, I stare up at her.

My entire body has no purpose, just as I have no purpose except to waste away in here, like I did for three years.

"What?" Mum smiles, bending down to pat me on the shoulder.

"Having a session with Dr. Light. I know things are hard and I can't imagine how you must feel, but you never know, having a session might help you. It's better than sitting here alone".

She pats my shoulder again, as if hoping to coax forward a more confident daughter, someone she can rely on. But no one can reply on me. I can't rely on me.

Even the word 'session' dredges up images of drowning in words I have no control over. Light. I swear his last name is purely for the sake of irony. He's never even told me his first name, even though he knows mine. That makes one of us.

Mum lingers in the doorway a moment longer, eventually leaving it ajar. It isn't a request, the session. I can tell. Not by her voice or the words she used, but by her eyes. Steely and desperate. She wants me to get better, so I'll try. I can't guarantee anything, but I will try.

After all, people say trying is half the battle.

Ghostly hands wrap around me, pulling me up. Like Light pulled me up two days ago, on the threshold. The softness of his voice paralysed me, as if it never occurred to me that he had a heart. Maybe, like me, it's all an act. An act, I realise I must continue to keep up.

Walking down the stairs seems to take forever and as my eyes meet Light's, I look away. His face is stony, while his temples are scrunched in what might be pain. If he feels pain. I'm not so sure.

"Are you coming?" he asks curtly. I nod, and he vanishes behind the door. All stoic in that newly pressed suit, that shiny new Harvard degree. He will never understand what it's like.

I pause momentarily in the living room, drawing my mind towards calm. It won't be like last time. This time, I am here on my own, and I am in control.

The walls of the white room tower above me, force me to a halt. Frozen. I can't do this, I can't go in there.

Light, having taken a seat, frowns. When I refuse to enter, he stands up.

"Come on. What's wrong?" he says sternly. I don't answer, I can't answer him. My throat constricts, every bone in my body crystalizing. Please, I don't want to be cut open, I don't want to be analysed. Please.

"Stop putting this off. I can't help you if you're selfish enough that you won't even try to help yourself," he snaps and that's when I lose it. I won't try? Is that what he thinks? I won't try?

He stalks toward me, but instead of slapping him away like some part of me longs to do, I start to cry.

When he doesn't stop, I step back, hitting the doorframe.

"Stop putting this off," he repeats, reaching for me and this time, I hold my breath and scream. Dr. Light shies away as if he's been struck, while my body shakes with adrenaline.

"You can't even begin to understand what I've been through!" I watch as his eyes widen, then narrow. There's only contempt in his expression, nothing else. He's just an empty suit. This is just a job to him, where I mean nothing.

"Honey? What's going on? Are you alright?"

Weak at the knees, I collapse into Mum's arms, the tears subsiding as her heart holds mine. I don't need to see her shoot a look at Light, I can feel it.

"Honey, it's alright. We'll wait, it's okay to wait. I'm sorry, you need a longer break. Tell you what, why don't you go read in the living room and I'll make some hot coco".

I'm too stunned, too thankful to argue. She's here, with me, at last.

As I exit her cocoon, I turn away. I can't stomach the sight of him right now, not because of his harsh words. But because of the look in his eyes.

As if he knows exactly what I've been through.