“I’m not sure you’ve met.” And you never will if I have my way. She filled her teacup, and as if the whole room wasn’t waiting for answers, she dropped two sugar cubes into the hot liquid.

“How long have you known this friend?” her aunt asked.

But her stepfather added to the questions before Jude could respond. “Did you meet this friend at the hospital?”

The creamer clouded the tea and Jude smiled, loving the art of watching the white blossom in the light gold liquid. She laughed. It was loud and unexpected, a burst of amusement. “No, Brewster,” she said, still giggling. “They aren’t crazy like me, so no need to worry yourself over that.”

“What do you mean, Judith? Of course we worry.” Her stepfather spoke deliberately, his tone trying to control the anger that edged it. “You are our responsib—”

“I’m your responsibility.” She raised her tone, not meaning to. “I got it. I know. I don’t have to be constantly reminded. I have no free will. I understand completely.”

Her stepfather stood up. “Apparently you don’t or you wouldn’t have gone missing all week.”

Jude set her teacup down, and then flattened her napkin on her lap by brushing her hands over it several times. “You allow me no freedoms. If I don’t disappear I won’t ever live again. Is that what you want?” Her voice shook. She hated fighting. She hated confrontation. She hated having to defend herself and her actions. But she did it because she had to. “I’m home. As you can see, I’m fine.”

Her mother slapped her hand flat down on the cherry wood table. “Stop this! Stop fighting.” When her clear blue eyes met Jude’s startled ones, she said, “All we want is for you to live. That’s why things are the way they are. You know this, Judith. You know we love you. We can’t risk…” she lowered her voice. “We can’t risk losing you again. I won’t survive it.”

“That’s ironic since I would be the one technically not surviving, Mother.”

That earned Jude a harsh glare from everyone except Isla, who favored sympathetic today. Isla spoke in her softest, calmest tone. It was natural for her. Out of her family, she was the most compassionate to Jude’s plight, if not ignorant to it. “We love you, Judith. Please. Please stop the fighting.”

Her stepfather had finally sat back down and Jude stood up. Looking down at the untouched tea, she felt a pang of disappointment that she wouldn’t get to drink it. “I’ll be in my room.”

Her stepfather asked to her back, “For the night?”

And with her back still to them, she replied, “For the night.”

“I hope you’re not lying. I don’t want to have to call the hospital again.” It wasn’t a threat when he said this. It was a fact. Brewster Boehler had to hold up his end of the court order. She tried not to resent him for this, but she did. She’d never understood why her mother married him so quickly after her father’s death, much less gave him a say in Jude’s life. Jude continued back to the room where she was allowed no locks on the inside.

It was evening, two hours since she’d left Hazel, and every minute that had passed weighted her to a hopelessness she hadn’t experienced in more than a year. Lying spread-eagled on the pink bed under the pink canopy, she stared at the small white posies adorning the matching fabric and matching wallpaper. She once counted them, counted every last posy in her room. Twelve thousand, three hundred, eighty-six. It was a number she struggled to forget. It was a time in her life she wished she could wipe from her memories, but being in this room did nothing but remind her of those days.

Nadia entered the room without knocking, like she always did. She waltzed in with the silver tray in her hands and spoke in her thick Russian accent. “You should respect your parents, Judith. They care for you. One should be so lucky to have such love.” She set the tray down on her vanity, then put her hands on her hips and tsked. “Look at you. A mess.” She came over to Jude and pulled her up by the arm. Fixing her hair, she said, “Your father will be in shortly.”

“My stepfather,” Jude amended.

Nadia twisted her lips, but ignored the correction. “Eat. Get your strength and your answers straight. No more of this foolishness. Do you hear me?”

“I do,” Jude responded, staring past Nadia as she scraped her scalp with a bobby pin.

Stepping back, Nadia approved of her work and smiled, but it was stilted, like her personality. “There. Don’t lie down. Go eat and wait for your stepfather.”

Jude didn’t say anything else, but she did roll her eyes, wondering if Nadia was born this cold or if the cold world had made her so.

The door shut and Jude was alone again. She got up and walked to the vanity, eyeing the food options. Nothing appealed to her, so she sat at the pretty table and touched up her lipstick before her stepfather arrived to have another talk.

She wasn’t kept in suspense for long. Her stepfather knocked and politely waited outside her door until she told him to come in. He cleared his throat while he entered. It was a tick she knew only led to bad things. Standing up, she said, “I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“You should have come home. What are we to do with you, Judith? We tell you to stay, you leave. We let you have a choice of the hospital or here and you always say here, but you continue to sneak out. The hospital seems to be the logical place for you—”

“No. No. Please. I’ll stay put.”

“You’ve promised this before.”

She would try anything, so she defeated her pride and said, “I will, Daddy. I’ll stay. I promise. I’ll only go out when you say I can. I’ll be here when you say I have to be.”

He remained near the door though it was closed, shaking his head. “This is not a punishment, Judith. This is your mental health. Do you understand how much pain and worry you have put this family through?”

His tone… she knew it well. Too well. Her stomach twisted into knots. “I do. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I won’t worry you anymore.” She thought of Hazel and the blissful bubble she’d lived in this week, realizing how it was all so fleeting. “Please, Daddy.”

“I’m sorry.”

She froze and stared at him. “Why are you sorry?”

“They think you should be evaluated.”

Tears pricked her eyes instantly. “No. Please,” she said, rushing him. “Please. I’ll be better. Please. Please. No. I’ll be good. I’ll be the best. You’ll see.”

He turned his head away from her. “I’m sorry. We have no options here. The hospital can demand an evaluation at any time under the court order. We must abide by their wishes or risk breaking the law.”

“Daddy,” she said as tears ran down her cheeks. Her mascara blurred her vision. “Please. Help me.”

His hand was on the doorknob. He opened the door and said, “I’m sorry, but we’ll see you off in the morning.” He left her standing there.

Begging didn’t matter. The subject was closed before he even came in. She dropped to her knees and fell forward on her hands. Trying to stop the sad sobbing that wracked her body, she closed her eyes. Warm hands caressed her, pulling her body to him. She sat up, keeping her eyes closed to keep the memory alive. Reaching up, she touched his cheek. His breathtaking hazel eyes halted her tears and she lifted up to kiss his lips.

Hazel evaporated and she opened her eyes to her miserable reality. Out of breath, she panted from panic, but knew what she had to do. She had to see him again. She had to escape. She jumped up and ran to her closet. She pulled off the cardigan and dress and pulled on jeans and a sweater. He would like her in a sweater. He will take me back if I wear a sweater. She pulled on warm socks and her coat, grabbed a fuzzy hat, and her gloves. Hazel would approve. He’ll be happy she finally listened to him. She did what he wanted. She’ll be warm and stay healthy. Yes, he’ll like her again. Want me again.