For the next couple of weeks, I made sure to avoid Alice. It was hard because suddenly she was there at every corner, as if she knew exactly where I was. It felt like she was everywhere I went, and it didn't help that the nightmares were non-stop.

Things at home were tense, especially after my blow-up at Mom. Dad was sure to let me know that he didn't appreciate how I was disrespecting her. I made sure to let him know that I didn't appreciate being locked in a mental institution for my own "good."

One evening, after another night of nightmares, Dad decided to confront me. I was in the kitchen, trying to make dinner, when he walked in.

"Brandon, we need to talk," he said firmly.

I turned to face him, bitterness already rising within me. "About what, Dad?"

"About how you've been treating your mother and me," he replied. "You can't keep holding this grudge forever. We did what we thought was best for you."

I couldn't hold back my anger any longer. "Best for me? You locked me up in a mental institution! You made me feel like I was crazy. You were never there when I needed you the most."

Dad's face hardened. "We were scared for you, Brandon. You were having those episodes, and we didn't know how to help you."

"So you thought the best solution was to throw me into a place where I felt alone and abandoned? You think that helped?" I shouted, my voice breaking. "You and Mom didn't help me. You both abandoned me. You left me to deal with everything on my own."

"We did what we thought was right," he insisted, but his eyes showed regret.

"Well, it wasn't right," I snapped. "You made everything worse. You made me feel like I was a burden, like I was broken. And now you expect me to act like everything is fine? It's not fine, Dad."

He took a step closer, his expression softening. "Brandon, we're sorry. We didn't understand what you were going through. But we love you and want to make things right."

I shook my head, tears of frustration welling up. "It's too late for that. You can't undo the damage you've done. Do you have any idea what I went through in that place?"

Dad's stern mask cracked a little. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "The nightmares, the loneliness, the fear... I was locked in a room for days, with no one to talk to. They forced me to take medication that made me feel like a zombie. I screamed for you and Mom every night, but you never came."

Dad's face paled. "Brandon, we didn't know..."

"Exactly. You didn't know because you didn't care. You and Mom left me there to rot. I was just a kid, and you abandoned me when I needed you the most."

His eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, Brandon. We thought we were helping you."

"You thought wrong," I said coldly. "You broke me, Dad. You made me feel like I was nothing, like I was better off locked away and forgotten."

Dad's shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. "I wish we could change the past."

"But you can't," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "You can't change what you did. And I don't know if I can ever forgive you."

Tears streamed down his face, and for the first time, I saw the pain and regret in his eyes. "I understand, Brandon. I just want you to know that we love you and we're here for you now."

I shook my head, tears of frustration welling up in my eyes. "You can't fix this. You can't take back the years of pain and suffering."

Dad opened his mouth to respond, but I turned away, unable to continue the conversation. I felt like I was losing my mind, little by little. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe there was something wrong with me.

My breath became shallow, and it felt like my throat was clogging up. It was then I realized I was having a panic attack and walked towards the front door quickly. I felt darkness hovering around me, embracing me and taking hold. I was so disoriented; I didn't even realize someone had brought me outside.

"Come on, breathe," a voice urged. "There we go, keep taking deep breaths."

Once I felt better, I looked up towards the person who helped me and quickly stood up in shock. Alice Cullen had once again appeared out of nowhere at the exact time I needed help. Something about that was weird.

"What are you doing here, Alice?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

Alice walked closer and took my hand in hers. "I was already on my way to your house because I wanted to speak to you about why you've been completely ghosting me. I don't know what I did to deserve that."

As much as I wanted to tell Alice everything, I just couldn't. I yanked my hand out of hers and took a step back, ignoring the look of hurt that momentarily flashed on her face.

"No disrespect, Alice, but although I appreciate you helping me, I don't have to explain myself to you. If you were smart, you would stay away from me," I said before walking back inside, closing the door behind me without a second glance.

If I had looked back, I would have seen that Alice was no longer there. The only thing that showed she had been there were the leaves drifting back to the ground.

"It's better this way," I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of my decision.

Avoiding Alice had been hard, especially when it felt like she was everywhere I went. But the tension at home made it even worse. I felt like I was losing my sense of reality. The constant nightmares and the pressure from my parents were too much to handle. The darkness and the sense of doom hovered around me, and I knew this was just the beginning. What was coming, I had no idea. But I had to keep pushing forward, no matter how hard it was.