still trying to figure out. After a very long, exhausting drive, Seth and I sneak up into the garage and crash on the bed without

having to talk to my mother. The place holds one of the strongest

memories in my head, and when I first walked in, I nearly fell over

as I remember how it felt when Kayden touched me, kissed me,

became a part of me.

“I’m bummed,” Seth states as we lie face to face on the bed

in our pajamas. The space heater hums in the background and the

glow of it and the lamp highlights the spackled spots on the walls.

He fakes a pout. “I was totally looking forward to meeting your

mother.”

I gently pinch his arm. “You liar. You’re so glad she’s asleep.”

He giggles and then rolls to his side, propping himself up on

his elbow. “I know. I wish I was, but from what you tell me about

her, she’s not going to be that fond of my colorful personality.”

I sit up in the bed, take the elastic out of my hair, and then

refasten my ponytail. I let my arms fall into my lap and I chew on

my lip, thinking about tomorrow and seeing Kayden.

Seth touches my bottom lip and my initial reaction is to

flinch, but I work at it and keep it under control. “A penny for your thoughts?”

“It’s nothing.” I sigh and flop down on the bed on my side.

“I’m just wondering what it’s going to be like… seeing him again.”

He considers this as he sweeps his bangs off his face. “It’ll be

like the first time I decided I was going to talk to you. You have to think of Kayden like a skittish cat. If you say the wrong thing, he

might flip out.”

“You thought of me as a skittish cat?”

“A skittish kitten.” He grins and winks at me. “You looked like

you were going to claw my eyes out the moment I approached

you.”

I fluff the pillow and tuck my hands under my head. “What if

I say something wrong, though, and he gets upset?”

He unlatches his watch and rolls to the side to set it on the

Tupperware bin next to the bed. Then he pivots to his hip and

faces me. “You won’t.”

I lift my legs up and slide them underneath the blankets.

“How can you be so sure?”

He smiles and touches the tip of his finger to the tip of my

nose. “Because he opened up to you the first time, which means

you’ve already said the right things. So all you have to do is go

there tomorrow and be yourself.”

“I hope you’re right.” I click the lamp off and the room goes

dark. The pale glow of the moonlight filters in through the window.

“I really hope you are.”

“I’m always right, darling,” he says, and then squeezes my

hand. “Just don’t overthink it.”

I shut my eyes and hold onto the thought that tomorrow I’ll

see him, alive, and not bleeding on the floor. Maybe then I can

finally get the god-awful image out of my head.

Kayden

It’s mid-December, the start of winter break. If I weren’t here,

I’d be heading home from school, probably with Callie and Luke.

It’s weird knowing she’s probably driving into town right now, just

getting home, so close to me in distance, and yet she still seems

far away, almost unreachable, since I’m stuck in here and she’s out

there.

I’ve secretly been collecting rubber bands and I have five of

them on my wrist. Not that Doug knows it. I kept pretending that I

broke them until I had a collection. The thickness gives more of a

sting and it settles me on the inside each time I flick them. I need a lot of settling because my mother showed up tonight and has

been here for over an hour trying to work things out with the

doctor and Doug to get me released.

They’re over by the doorway having a conversation about me

like I’m not even here. It’s actually more of an argument than a

conversation.

“But we’ll be there watching him at all times.” My mother

talks with her hands a lot and she’s got long fingernails. Every time she says something she swings her arms animatedly and almost

nails the doctor in the eye.

Doug fans through his yellow-sheeted notebook and reads

through his notes. “Look, Mrs. Owens, I know this must be hard for

you, but I don’t think it’s healthy for Kayden to leave the facility

just yet. In fact, I’d advise against it.”

My mother taps her foot on the floor and crosses her arms

as she stares Doug down like he is a small, insignificant piece of

shit. “Look, I understand what you advise, but I’d rather not take

advice from a doctor who got his PhD from some low-budget

college.”

“I got my PhD from Berkley,” he says, pulling out a pen from

his pocket.

Her gaze sweeps over him and she elevates her eyebrows.

“Really? Then why are you here?”

Doug stays calm as he balances the notebook on his arm

and writes something down. “I might be asking you the same

thing.”

I think I like Doug at that moment and I smile to myself as I

wiggle my finger under the bands and flip them against the inside

of my wrist and let the burn soothe me. I’m sitting in the corner of

the room, not the one I sleep in but a larger one with a lot of

tables and chairs scattered around. The walls are brick and cracked

with old age, but it’s more comforting than the dull white ones in

the room. Some people eat lunch in here, but I choose to eat in my

room because there’s always too much going on, like fights and

yelling and crying.

My mother stabs her fingernail against Doug’s chest. “Don’t

you dare insinuate anything.”

“I wasn’t,” Doug says simply, wincing as he grips the spot on

his chest where my mother stabbed her finger. “It just seems like

you’re awfully eager to take Kayden out of here when it’s clear he’s

not stable.”

I scan the scars on my arms and the bandage on my wrists.

I’ve been picking at the scab that’s underneath it a lot, which is

why it’s not healing. But it’s a fucking habit and I can’t seem to

break it.

“He’s perfectly stable,” my mother insists. There’s a slight slur

to her speech and I wonder if the doctor can hear it. “And it’s my

call, since I’m the one who signed him in to be here.”

I stand up, stunned. “You did that? I thought that was the

hospital?”

She glares at me with annoyance. “I put you here for your

own good. You needed to be watched for a while, but now…

you’ve been here for a little over a week and it’s time to move on

and get your act together.”

Or kept away from my father. “Then I want to leave,” I say,

walking across the room. “And I want to go back to school, not