"There's a word I found recently. Evanescence. It made me think of you. It made me think of us. Were we just a dream, Sebastian?"
TW : Key themes of suicide and trauma.
WARNING: This is Book Two. Please read "affluenza" first to avoid any spoilers...
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TW// some heavy conversation
BRAYLEN.
I OPEN MY eyes to sterile sheets and white walls staring back at me. My head felt cloudy like it did when we dissected eyeballs in sixth grade and I fainted in front of the entire Biology class. Sebastian made fun of me for years after that; I never dissected anything ever again.
This felt different, though. I felt dizzy when I woke up after the dissection. Now, I just felt numb.
I'm tucked carefully underneath sheets and from my neck down, I can feel gauze. I lift my hands up, taking in the thick, white bandages wrapped around them and my stomach turns as I remember exactly how I got here. Wherever here was.
I'd finally lost it.
All summer, I'd felt on the brink of it. Of breaking down. There were moments where I'd felt full, like maybe I could hold off a little longer. It seemed I'd run out of time. My own craziness couldn't be contained anymore. And everyone knew it. Especially Roman.
My heart pangs at his name but then I remember something else. Him rushing into Sebastian's house, wrapping me up in his arms, carrying me out. I don't remember much after that; it must've been when I blacked out. I don't even remember what I whispered to him as he looked at me or what he whispered back. All I remember is the thought, "What have I done to myself?" and his warm hands along the bare strip of skin beneath my shirt.
Someone bustles into the room, quickly shining off the reflective glass of the mirror—a plastic, imitation mirror. Good choice. He's dressed in blue scrubs, not unlike a doctor's. But I didn't think I was at the hospital. Not exactly.
"Hey," I call out. My voice is throaty and hoarse and the man doesn't hear me. Albeit, he does have on old-fashioned headphones plugged into some device in his pocket. I can hear music playing from it, loud rock music that I couldn't recognize from this far away, though something about it felt familiar. I swallow hard and clear my throat. "Hey!"
The man turns around, cheeks flushed. I watch as he frantically pushes his headphones around his neck. "Shit. You're awake. Uh...hi. I'm Lionel."
I nod towards him. "You a doctor?" I ask. My voice still sounded foreign.
He gulps. "Sort of. I'm in training. Under Dr. Carter." He chuckles awkwardly but stops when I don't join in. "You're probably confused, aren't you?"
"Where am I?" I hiss.
Lionel sighs. "I am definitely not the one that should be breaking this to you," he mutters. "Malibu Treatment Center. A mental hospital."
