Over the next couple of weeks, my face and tales of my “untimely downfall” or “nervous breakdown” were all over the news. In reality, I just did what I had to do to get the job done. I just acted like that so I could meet my deadline and quite frankly, I didn’t really care what the media thought of me, or the monster it made me become overnight. In the end I was really only focused on getting the hell on with my life.
Amy came to see me every day of my one month stay there at the clinic. She ate lunch with me, stayed the afternoon, and then, depending on her hours in the studio, sometimes ate dinner with me. Although my number one priority was to get out of there for both my work and my art, knowing that one day I could show her some of my favorite restaurants made me push myself to get better ten times faster.
“Ready to go?” asked Amy, looking up at me, smiling.
I sighed and looked back at the small, ten by ten room I had previously called home for the last month, “Fuck yeah.”
She laughed and grabbed one of my bags, struggling slightly as she lifted it off of the ground, “What’s in here?”
“Makeup, hair accessories, oh, and a pair of shoes I had Josh smuggle in. They’re my favorite heels; I got them while thrifting in Paris a couple years back during fashion week. I slept in them so my feet wouldn’t get used to wearing flats and kill me when I got out of this pit and wore heels again,” I explained as I took the bag from Amy.
“Oh,” replied Amy simply.
“Come on,” I said as I placed my arm around her shoulder.
“Leaving already?” asked the receptionist from behind her desk, smiling.
I chuckled, “Thank goodness.”
The receptionist smiled, “All you and your partner have to do is sign on the dotted line.” She placed a clipboard on the desk and handed me a pen.
Confused, I tilted my head, “What? Who’s my… Oh! Oh, no,” I told her. “No, no, this isn’t my…” I choked on my words and cringed, “This isn’t my partner. She’s just a friend.”
“Yeah… I’m… just a friend,” Amy mumbled as I felt her shoulders drop. I grabbed the pen and reluctantly signed on the dotted line before picking up my bags once more and walking out of the sliding glass doors with Amy.
“That’s what you are… right?” I asked quietly, slightly nervous that I fucked up again.
She sighed and smiled a little, I could tell something was off. “Yeah, I guess so. If you want me to be a friend, I’ll be a friend.”
I paused, genuinely confused at her response. “What do you mean? What else could you ever be? It’s not like you could be my sister,” I joked as I put my bags into the trunk of her car.
“No idea,” she answered quickly, “Let’s just get you back home, okay?”
I shrugged and got into the passenger seat of the car. The car ride back into the city was rather quiet and the air felt heavy, as if there was some sort of tension in it. I glanced over at Amy a couple of times but didn’t bother to say anything in case she was thinking of a song or focused on driving. I didn’t want to bug her.
YOU ARE READING
50 Shades Of Amy Lee
FanfictionNow that med school has calmed down, I figured I should update. Enjoy.
