Awake with a heartbeat.

It's there.

Thump, thump, thump.

Bang, bang. We all fall down.

My heart is fractured, yet whole at the same time, beating with a rhythmic, erratic thump. Pain is in full bloom on my hands, arms, while aching fills my entire body.

Alyssa. Alyssa.

My eyes snap wide, the colours dull but blinding.

We are lying at the foot of my bedroom door, arm raised towards the doorknob as if reaching out to God. Shovelling my back away from the oak panels, I blink. Almost everything hurts, which is an improvement from last night I suppose. The house is eerily quiet, dust suspended on the countless bookcases, abseiling down the curve of the mahogany banister. The carpet beneath me is itchy, so talk myself into standing. Alyssa must be still unconscious, recovering from the car crash. Shame lances through me, but I chase it away and clench my fists. She may like Mr. Dark, but the man he shares a body with... He confuses both of us. Blushing, I re-live Noah's failed attempt to ask me out the day before. He's sweet, he's my age. He isn't a scientific experiment created for biochemical warfare. He doesn't deserve to be burdened with someone like me. My heart sinks a little. I don't deserve him. As I open my bedroom door, I catch sight of the rising sun beyond the silken curtains. I stare down at the cuts, the plum pudding bruise bulging on my left hand. What am I supposed to tell Mum? She worries enough as it is. Dr. Light – Bohemian, Bo, whatever – enters the clouds of panic, just another name in a long list of regrets. No. Not a regret. Not yet at least. Once dressed in a more presentable outfit, though I'm sure Alyssa would disagree, I head downstairs to cook some early breakfast. By cook, I mean I'm eating two huge bowls of cereal smothered in maple syrup, the golden kind that Mum bought from the Walmart two days ago. Just somebody try and stop me. Half way down the stairs is where I see him. I'm so focussed taking one step at a time, I nearly miss him. He's lying like a fallen idol, crucified for failing to conform. His hair is more than mussed and blood mattes his clothes, thicker than any paint. Dr. Light. Unconscious on the stairs. It's that moment when I hear the shower in Mum's room switching on. Oh no.

"Dr. Light? Bo". I tread carefully around his prone form, bend down. Shake him once, twice on the shoulder. Resist, I'm ashamed to say, the urge to stroke his face. Press a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Bo, wake up. Mum will see you". Taking off my jacket – I hope it's big enough – I wrap it around his shoulders. Whether it will convincingly cover the bloodstains, I'm not so sure. But it's worth a try. Better than explaining to my mother we were – and simultaneously weren't – in a car crash last night.

"Bo," I plead, shaking his shoulder. What if he hit his head last night? I don't remember him wearing a seatbelt, he might have a concussion. My breath glues itself to my lungs until he draws an enormous yawn and his eyes flutter open. As soon as he sees me leaning over him, he bolts upright.

"Morning. What time is it?" he drawls. I gesture to the trickle of the shower running upstairs. He pauses mid-yawn.

"Oh. That's not good", he says, and I drag him to his feet. He spies my hand on his arm, so I let go. But when he stumbles, seems about to fall, I'm by his side again. He seems to retreat into himself, neck merging with his collar bones.

"It seems you're better at this than me," he whispers. I blush.

"At what?"

"Being human. Despite being treated as if you're not". I roll my eyes a little; the blush possesses my entire face anyway.

"Okay, you are definitely concussed". I begin to haul him up the stairs when my mother' calls from her bedroom,

"Is that you Alice?" Alarms are ringing in my head. Light shoots me a desperate glance. What am I supposed to do? He's not exactly camouflage in my lavender jacket. Silence vibrates between us, while Light makes convoluted hand gestures. Mum's footsteps echo on the wooden floor. He flashes me another frantic expression, so I take him by the arm, fighting the lighting which shrieks up my spine and bustle him towards the basement door.

"Honey? Are you alright down there?" She's coming down, she's going to see us. Light lets me shove him through the door, closing it lightly behind me. Or between us. Taking a deep breath, I ready my smile. I'm fine, my injuries are hardly noticeable. And my psychiatrist is trapped in the basement until further notice. Psychiatrist. The title is an artificial barrier. Because I know I want him to be more and I don't care if it's wrong or if every bone in my body is rising against it. I want more. Of him. Of us. An experience outside of my own head which will shape me into someone new, someone who understands that there is pain in the world, but there is love too.

The moment Mother spots me, leaning against the bottom of the stairs, she smiles. Her face is UV light, illuminating the once invisible blush on my cheeks. Dr. Light, somehow, needs to make his exit.

Carefully, I push myself off the wooden slats, smiling at Mum, who begins to frown.

"Are you sure you're alright dear?"

"Perfectly," I say. For once, I realise what I'm saying is true.

"You look a little tired. Did you not sleep well?" she asks. I suppose she's right. There are suitcases under our eyes for sure.

"No. I stayed up to watch the sunrise. I'm paying for it now, of course," I chuckle, hoping she can't hear Dr. Light scuffling around in the basement like a mouse. Mother smiles, stepping forward to stroke my hair. She seems so worn these days. Worn with a few strands of grey escaping her dirt-road hair. Her eyes are moss, just like mine. Mum.

"The Academy sent me an email today," she begins. The floor drops out from under me. They know. They know everything. Over cover is blown. I risk a glance behind me, at the basement door. What about Light? What will they do with him?

"What do you mean?" I try to conceal the stutter. Still stroking my hair, Mother answers,

"They told me how well you were doing. How your grades are excellent and your manner, apart from the odd blips when things get too much, is perfect for a student of theirs. They're thinking about giving you the Roberts Award in Summer, after your exams". My breath lashes against my throat, fighting to be exhaled.

"Oh," is all I can manage. Mother kisses my cheek, and pulls back.

"So," she begins. "I was thinking that maybe, over the next few months, we could go for a weekend getaway before the Winter Holidays, especially since Dr. Light's assessments have almost finished. Honey, I've never been so proud of you. You've done really well with getting things back to normal". I smile and let her drawn me into a hug. She smells like cinnamon and maple syrup. All the same, I can't help but frown a little. Normal. My normal is laughing with the voice in my head, and lying to a man who is just as different as I am. That is my normal. This, here is my normal. Is it truly so bad? Am I truly so different? I wrap my arms around my Mother, but in my head, I offer a silent thank you to Alyssa. The girl who pulled me from the rubble of my own mind.

"You fancy watching a film. They're playing old Disney movies on the Filmy Channel. You fancy watching one? Or we could have a marathon? Order pizza to celebrate?" I grin and cling to my Mother.

"I love you," I whisper. She laughs.

"Is that your loyalty or the pizza talking?"

"A little bit of both". Arm in arm, we walk to the sofa, gathering blankets and pretzels. Mum scurries to the kitchen to grab bowls and napkins. I convince her to let Dr. Light order the pizza, so he'll have an excuse to hurry from the basement. Within an hour, he emerges and apologises for his tardiness.

"I had a little headache, but luckily it didn't manifest into a migraine," he says by way of explanation. Mother barely pays him any attention, focussing on the TV remote. We flick through the channels until we find the opening credits for a Disney Movie. It's Tangled. I'd heard of it, but I'd never seen it. I didn't have to – I know the story of Rapunzel.

A Mother who traps her daughter inside a tower for her own gain.

Even when the pizza arrives, I can't help but shiver. Can't help but hold my own Mother close.

I'm still shivering when the film ends.