I spend the following weeks in a mirage.

On the surface, I'm untouchable, harbouring the perfect smile upon porcelain skin, while beneath I'm one harsh word away from collapse.

Thank God Mum bought the baseball story. It was either that or rare type of flying squirrel crashed through the window.

Besides the odd outing with Mum, I confine myself to the schoolbooks Dr. Renee left, trying to catch up on three years of education. It's easier than you think.

By the time July mulled over into August, I'd read them twice over.

I haven't spoken properly to Light since Alyssa tried to kill me. The sessions remain the same though: lies stacked like Jenga blocks until they all fall down. All we've been doing is pretending to be okay. Always pretending and never an honest word is passed between us. I need to know, need to find out why he said what he said.

"You". Why me? Had he known me before? Does he even know me know?

At the beginning of August when orange eclipses my bedroom, Mum bounds through the door.

"I've just had an email from the principle of the Academy. You can pick your options to study at Grade 10". It's impossible to contain my grin. This time, we both wrap our arms around each other. As a team.

'Yippee. Surrendering to the useless conveyor belt of education. Let me just find my enthusiasm. Oh wait'. Alyssa has been moaning since the end of July. When she decided to speak to me again.

After partly slitting my throat, I haven't been very interested in anything she's had to say.

Mum hunkers down next to me on the bed, dramatically producing an options form from her jacket. Due to the constant studying, I've realised my strengths lie in Math and Science as well as History and – on occasion – Art. Mum threatened to force Dr. Light to pose as a nude model. Apart from being mentally traumatised, I found myself aching to speak to him again. Truly speak to him.

Without lies, without masks or stage acts of contentment.

"Are you sure you want to choose History as well? It's a huge course," says Mum. I'm already well aware. But every time I felt alone these past few weeks, I poured over those textbooks, absorbing each bloody battle and every ridiculous medical treatment that did way more harm than good. It kind of reminds me of the Foundation, of their methods.

I haven't thought of the Foundation in weeks, even though it's always been there, marinating in the corner of my mind. Alyssa has been aching over it for months.

"Yes. History, Statistics and Triple Science," I finish, nodding my head as if it will make my decision completely set in stone. Anything could change.

Mum circles my chosen options, smiling all the while. I've never seen her so happy and it warms me from the toes up. The heat rises until my entire body is glowing. Someone is happy for me at least.

"There you go. My clever daughter. I was terrible at science at school. I still can't quite believe you're going back. But I believe in you," she whispers, running her hand through my hair.

"I am so proud of you. Every single day. Even in those years, when I came to visit, and you hadn't woken up, I was so proud. I will never stop being proud of you". Those words tear me, piece by piece, until water gushes, tears flood and I am held in her embrace. Through it all, I can feel Alyssa relaxing.

Just a little.

"You're so brave Alice. You've always been so brave," Mum says. I can't afford to let her down.

When she breaks away, I sag, wishing she could stay, that we could stay like that forever. It's better to locked in love than locked out of it.

Mum grabs the form and stops in the doorway.

"You could take Art if you wanted. Your class could use Dr. Light as a human anatomy subject".

Laughter intertwines with the remnants of my tears. As soon as Mum leaves, I'm not quite as hollow as I was before. She helped to mend me before I could break. Not to fix – that disgusting word those Doctors always used – but to mend.

I am not broken.

I want my life back and if the Foundation won't give it to me, I'll have to take it by force.

Alyssa crawls out of the recesses of our mind, dark and dank as anything I can imagine.

'Are you ready?' I have limited knowledge, limited resources. I'm fractured but healing. I want to witness a million sunsets, sunrises. A million more.

I want to become a human being.

'No,' I answer. 'But I will try to be'.

For now, that's all I can promise.