Me & Her

Me

The next three days are spent tackling my phobia. It doesn't seem like agoraphobia – I know it isn't – but rather something else that prevents me from seeing the truth. I'm probably just being paranoid.

Great. Paranoia. Something else to add to my list.

Yesterday, me and Mum roasted s'mores by the fire, while she talked about school. She's still looking, but she assures me she'll find something suitable.

We're currently sitting down to lunch, since Light cancelled our morning session because of a migraine. He's such a statue that it never occurred to me anything could shake him.

Mum passes me a bowl of salad, smiling.

"How are your sessions going?"

"Good," I mumble through a mouthful of food. I am still unable to remember my name, most of my life, and how exactly I ended up in a coma. Other than that, they're going great.

"I've been talking with the hospital," Mum's continues. "They say they're struggling to find the properly qualified staff to clear you for school admission at the moment, especially one that suits your needs. But". She takes my hand across the table, squeezes it.

"They'll find someone. I promise you". Offering a wan smile seems to reassure her completely and she lets go. Without her, my body turns cold.

We finish our lunch in silence, until Mum asks me to help collect the plates.

I've grown stronger in these past few weeks. My arms have hardened, the stretched skin having disappeared. The gaunt, sickly girl in the mirror still haunts me, but she is a passing ghost. I'll be glad to see the back of her soon.

As I'm heading over to the kitchen, the staircase lets out an aged shriek. I look up to see Dr. Light in his suit, with his notepad, heading down the stairs. No hair on his head is out of place. When Mum sees him, she offers a nod, before vanishing behind the kitchen door.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, trying to lower the level of awkwardness. Somehow, I succeed in making it worse. Typical me.

"Fine. How are you? Are you up for a session this afternoon?" He means if I'm up to going outside, to bask in my fear as if nothing can touch me. It is definitely easier said than done. Like a lot of things in life. The things that matter.

Sometimes, I wonder how much simpler everything would have been if I'd stayed in a coma. But... I can never go back, not to that silence, that emptiness. I want a life, I need my freedom. Freedom? The word feels foreign, as if someone else said it using my lips.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Light reaches for the plates, but I pull away. Faking a smile, I lift them up.

"I'll just take these to Mum," I say. He shies away with the repulsion of a magnet. What did I do now? Our interactions had never been smooth, never flowed, but now they're just complex. Neither one of us knows what to do us except follow the scripted plan in his notebook. The plan to 'fix me'.

Mum is hunched over the sink and she smiles upon my entrance.

"Thank you, honey. Are you going to try to stay outside today?" Yesterday, I only managed a few minutes.

Handing her the plates, I nod dolefully. I'll do anything to stop feeling like I'm wrong. She cups my cheek, soapy water sliding down her wrist.

"That's my brave little girl," she says. Brave is not the word I would have used. But I am not a little girl anymore. I'm not sure what I am.

Another incredibly plastic smile, easily melted.

I walk away from the porcelain tiles, the darkened corners, heading out into the living room. Dr. Light isn't there. Instead of waiting for him, I move to the window, stare out at the world that I have denied. No, I haven't. Other people have denied me the world. Pressing my fingers against the glass, I know what I've decided. I want to go out there, I need to.

Steadily, I walk towards the back door, pausing every so often to calm my heart. With no one watching, no one analysing, I am free. At the same time, I feel almost empty.

Dr. Light should be here, witnessing my break-through. That's what he does, isn't it? That's his job.

I place my hand on the door, frowning at the strange lock. A small green light flickers. It's nothing. It has to be nothing.

Pushing aside the door, delicate sunlight falls upon me. The grass springs up, as if noticing my arrival into the outside world. One more breath. I stop delaying and step outside.

Immediately, everything twitches, an odd sensation overcoming me. But I'm not giving up. I am going to school. I can't spend another week cooped up in this house. I might as well be a prisoner. The ground rushes beneath me, the sun beating down a peace I've never experienced before. I am not afraid.

"Well done". I jump – roughly a metre – and swing round to face Dr. Light. He's standing behind me, although I never heard him arrive.

"Don't do that!" He doesn't say anything, but then I don't expect him to. My throat constricts.

"Keep breathing," he reminds me. Almost everything he says is a mini-lecture. He doesn't speak enough to give me a full one. Still, he's right. I've forgotten to breathe properly, so I try to resume a normal rhythm. In. Out. The fog upon my minds rustles, clears. It's clearing. Leaves woven from silk flutter around me, come to rest at my feet. There are few flowers – only a clump of pink and red. Beautiful all the same. To think that I was missing this, denying this.

"It's very pretty out here," I say. Light blinks, almost as if he's forgotten I'm here. Or that he's suddenly standing next to me. His dark blue suit is hilariously out of place amongst the garden. It's a shame about the fence, the one surrounding the grass on all sides. It's mostly wood, but the edges are grey like steel. Doctor Steele. It's been over two-weeks since his disappearance and if I didn't know better, I'd say my other self was responsible. But she couldn't have done it. If I struggled to go outside, she probably did as well. I risk a glance at Light, who's staring at his shoes. Of course. Going outside is nothing special to him, not the way it is to me.

"Did you know Doctor Steele?" I ask stupidly. Just for something to say. The Doctor could be his mentor or his boss.

"Yes. I did". There's no elaboration, but by the look on his face, I don't want him to give me one. His eyes have taken on a darker glint and his face has tightened. I'm just about to ask him what happened when he brushes the expression – and my question – aside.

He turns to face me.

"Would you like to have the session outside today? I'll bring out some chairs," he offers. I nod, a huge smile glued to my lips. This is what I want. I want to spend my afternoon, talking in the sunlight, for once pretending that I'm a regular girl.

All the same, we fall back into our typical routine of questions: I evade, and he accepts. Our new roles. At least he accepts, which is something I'm still struggling to do.

For once, I'm allowed not to be okay. I'm just me.

We stay outside until the sunset.