“Hey,” I hissed as I woke up, feeling an uncomfortable poke in my rib cage. I peeled my eyes open, slowly beginning to realize that I didn’t fully recognize the voice that woke me up.

All I saw was pink.

“Uh,” I began, stifling a yawn as my eyes adjusted.

“Finally,” the voice said, sounding annoyed, almost.

“May I help you?” I furrowed my eyebrows, focusing on the pale, pink haired girl standing before me. I sat up awkwardly in my bed, staring at her.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she chirped, shrugging her shoulders. I continued to stare at her. After a moment of me continuing to wonder what she was doing here, she spoke again. “So, hi,” she giggled.

“Er, hi,” I said, but it came out almost like a question. I looked around her, seeing on the wall clock that it was only five in the morning. “Um, I’d like to go back to sleep now, if you don’t mind,” I mumbled awkwardly, my voice coated in tiredness.

“Sleep? Sleep is for the weak, y’know! C’mon!” she bounced on her toes excitedly, as if she had some big even to attend to that she was late for. What could she possibly be so excited for?

I shook my head, annoyed. It was so early that I couldn’t exactly think straight, so, instead of politely asking her to leave, I sort of grunted and rolled over, facing the wall. Not that she deserved my politeness, anyway, since she so politely woke me up for God knows why.

“Hey!” she poked my left shoulder blade, and I sighed.

“What do you want?” I snapped. I normally was never this rude to people, but she had it coming for her by waking me up this early.

“Damn. It’s so hard to make friends here,” she frowned.

I furrowed my eyebrows—not in an angry manner, but a concerned manner. “Maybe try during the day, not at the crack of dawn,” I said softly, more kindness embedded in my tone.

She furrowed her eyebrows, too, as if she had not thought of that option before. She looked like a discouraged child—a sad kid that was just told that Mickey Mouse was not real.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I said. “Maybe try going back to sleep, and you can try again at breakfast in a few hours,” I suggested as my eyelids began to droop heavily.

“I would if I could,” she mumbled, and I raised my eyebrow at her. “I have insomnia. It’s a bitch,” she said nonchalantly.

“Oh,” was all I said.

“Sleep well,” she patted my arm. I barely had any time to see if she left, nor did I have any time to wonder what the fuck that was all about, before the weights on my eyelids forced my eyes to close once again.

The remainder of my sleep was restless, though—I never managed to fall into a deep sleep. By eight o’clock, I was wide-awake, tossing and turning in my bed. I sighed, sitting up and wishing that I had not gotten interrupted.

It has been four days since Tony’s mom visited us. Dr. Crowly never missed my medication again (I still wondered what her problem had been, though).

Today was special.

Today was my last day in the institution. That meant that tomorrow I could wake up, grab my duffle bag of clothes, and, well, leave. Tony was released yesterday, but I didn’t feel lonely or sad. I was happy for him—his future was bright, the rays of the sunlight wrapping around his hand and pulling him in, leaving all traces of darkness behind. Plus, I was going to be going home with him in a mere twenty-four hours, and I couldn't be happier. I also had Bree, here, and we continued to skate over the fact that me leaving would mean less time seeing each other. We just knew that somehow we would make it work.

“What are you thinking about?” I jumped up in alarm when someone surprised me with their voice. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she laughed lightly, and then I noticed the source of the voice: the pink haired girl from earlier this morning.

“Um,” I stared at her.

“Well?” she raised her eyebrows. “You looked lost in thought. What’s up?” she asked casually, as if she wasn’t intruding on my morning for the second time today.

“Um, I was just thinking. Today’s my last day here,” I shrugged my shoulders, not wanting to rub that fact in anyone’s face. I didn’t know this girl; I didn’t know why she was here and for how long she was going to be here, so I didn’t want to upset her. It would be rude of me.

“Congratulations,” she smiled, but the smile didn’t spread to her eyes. I smiled weakly in response, suddenly wishing that I had lied about what I was thinking about. “Don’t feel bad,” she said—I guess my feelings and thoughts were easily plastered on my face. “I’m not sure how long I have to be in here,” she shrugged her shoulders. I nodded slowly. “I just got in last week-ish,” she added, and I nodded again.

“You don’t talk much,” she said. I shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Er, sorry,” I mumbled. I didn’t know why I was apologizing, though. “Um, what’s your name?”

“Candace Jones,” she said proudly, and that was when it hit me. This was the girl who, a few days ago, had been having some sort of episode in the hallway. This was the girl who’s story made my Bree cry. This was the girl who had caused Dr. Crowly to forget about my medication. This girl had schizophrenia, like me, which was why Bree was assigned to her.

“And you are Vic,” she pointed at me with a grin.

“How do you know that?” I asked dumbly.

“Bree mentioned you a few times. Since we have the same condition. She just helps me out by saying that it will get better, because you are better. Like, she uses you as an example,” she smiled softly, and I smiled in return at the thought of Bree using me as an example for others—it made me feel like everything was really okay. It only took nineteen years.

“It does, as long as you want it to,” I said.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, so, I wanted to see what this “Vic” dude was all about, so I found your room,” she shrugged her shoulders, referring to the fact that the names of patients were labeled by the doors of the rooms.

“Oh, well, um, here I am,” I said weakly.

“Yup, here you are!” she chirped.

“I, uh, I’m going to get dressed now,” I said.

“You’re dressed already,” she said, her face confused.

I sighed lightly. I guess she didn’t really understand much, but I wasn’t going to hold any of it against her. As Bree once told me, was all have our quirks. I especially was not one to judge her.

“I’m going to change into different clothes for the day,” I clarified. She nodded, her face brightening up as if she was thinking to herself ‘of course!’.

She remained standing in my room, though, and I coughed awkwardly. “Can I please have a moment?” I asked, trying to sound as polite yet as clear as possible. I didn’t want to be rude to someone who obviously didn’t know any better.

“Yes, sure, sorry, my bad, silly me,” she rambled, continuing to ramble as she walked out of my room.

I shook my head and proceeded to change into regular clothes. It only took two minutes, so I was surprised to find that Candace had disappeared when I walked into the hallway.

“Hm,” I furrowed my eyebrows, but then I shrugged my shoulders. I decided to just forget about her and her erratic behavior. Today was my last day, so I needed to see Bree as much as possible. I didn’t know when I would see her next, and this looming fact made my heart hurt.

I walked further down the hallway, hoping that I would run into Bree somewhere.

She must have been thinking the same thing as me, because we spotted each other almost immediately.

“Vic!” she said happily, an enormous smile stretched across her features. When I saw that nobody else was around, I placed a hand on her still bruised cheek, smiling softly at her.

“Hi, Bree,” I said.

“How are you today?” she asked.

“Great,” I said genuinely—I didn’t feel crazy, I didn’t feel depressed, and, for once, I actually was looking forward to living my life.

A common misconception about mental institutions is that they are simple loony bins. Well, in at least my experience, I found that it was just a place to put me back on track. I was going to leave this place a new person—a new, healthier, happier person. And I now held one thing that I seemed to lack the first nineteen years of my existence: hope.

“You’re amazing,” she said. “I’m so ridiculously proud of you,” she breathed. Her eyes darted around the—after careful observation—empty hallway before she planted a sweet kiss on my lips.

“I’m going to miss you,” I said sadly.

“Let's not think about that right now, okay?” I nodded. She lightly took my hand and we walked closely next to each other down the hallway.

“What do I have to do today?” I asked. I wasn’t sure about the procedure of releasing a patient.

“Nothing really,” she said. “Dr. Crowly cleared you yesterday, so you just have to spend the day here while paper work is all finalized and all of that boring stuff,” she explained.

“Sweet,” I said, glad that I didn’t really have to do anything. I was already beginning to feel like a normal person again.

“I have a few sessions with Candace, but I will try and be around as much as possible,” she said, and I nodded.

“Oh!” I realized. “Er, about Candace…” I began, and her face twisted in slight confusion. “This morning, she sort of, like, showed up in my room,” I mumbled.

“She did?” she asked, her face rather alarmed.

“Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just… random, I guess,” I scrunched up my mouth a little. “I just figured that might be important for you to know.”

“Oh,” she said. “Thanks for telling me. She’s not supposed to wander around like that,” Bree furrowed her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, she has to be accompanied at all times. I’ll have to talk to her nurses about that,” Bree said, rubbing her forehead with her hand. “How was she acting?” she asked curiously.

“Well, it was really early in the morning. And, I don’t know, she was nice. But she definitely seemed… off… like she didn’t really understand... And she seemed down but also hyper at the same time,” I tried to explain Candace’s erratic behavior, but it was difficult for me to do so without making it sound like I was judging her. She had a definite weirdness, but I wasn’t about to call her out on that. She was here for a reason, just like I was, at one point.

“Hm,” Bree frowned again. “Sorry about that, I hope she didn’t bother you,” Bree said after a few moments of silence.

“It’s okay,” I shrugged my shoulders—because it really was.

“Ugh, I’m required to ask you, because it’s your last day and all: did you remember to take your pills independently today?” she asked, rolling her eyes. I smiled, liking how she didn’t doubt me for a second.

“Of course,” I said.

“Good,” she smiled. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she got the chance she was interrupted by a blasting voice being projected over a loud speaker of the hospital.

“We are now in lockdown mode. Nurses and other staff please secure your wards and patients,” the voice said—monotone, as a red light flashed, originating from a blub that stuck on the wall above the door frame at the ends of the hallways.

“Lockdown? They can do that here?” I asked, memories of lockdown drills we had occasionally in high school flickering in my brain.

“Yes,” Bree hissed. She grabbed my hand tightly, pulling me off towards a room. The hallway was completely empty besides us, so we didn’t have to worry about helping anyone else into a secure spot. “I was just paged the alert,” she informed me. “Apparently a patient is being… violent…” Bree furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know why they would lockdown the entire building, though,” she said. Her voice was calm and soothing, but her eyes looked panicked. I squeezed her hand.

We walked into a room—it was empty—and closed the door. Bree turned the shades down and made sure the room was as dark as possible before pulling me into a corner with her. She sat close next to me, her breath on my shoulder, but she didn’t say anything as she whipped out her phone, typing a message to someone.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

“Candace,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

“What do you mean? Is she okay?” I asked.

“Oh my God,” Bree cried, putting a hand over her mouth as her face adapted an expression of horror.

“Bree, what is it?” I whispered, wrapping an arm around her in comfort.

“A nurse was found in Candace’s room with her skull bashed in,” Bree said lowly.

My eyes widened. “And now they can’t find Candace,” Bree whispered.

I didn’t say anything, fear beginning to slowly spread through my body. I was about to criticize the institution for not keeping tabs on their patients, but then I realized it wasn’t the nurse’s fault—she was the one with her head smashed.

“Is the nurse…”

Bree nodded. “Dead,” she confirmed.

“Every patient is accounted for, except Candace,” Bree squinted her eyes as she read the updates from her phone. “We have to stay here until they find her,” she said.

I nodded. “I literally just saw her barely an hour ago,” I shivered. “And then she just kind of left,” I whispered, realizing that I was probably the last alive person to see her… would this have happened if I hadn’t of asked her to leave? If I had just gone along with how she was acting until I was able to get Bree or some one else’s help, would we still be in this situation? Could I have done something to control her?

“Stop,” Bree said.

“What?”

“Stop blaming yourself,” she said. I turned my head to see her staring at me intently—she knew how to read my face well.

“But she—”

“No, Vic. She’s unpredictable. You know what else could have happened? It could have been you with your head smashed in. You never know when she is going to snap—I’ve never dealt with a patient as serious as Candace,” she said fiercely. I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in.

“Bree?” I asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Did she do this?” I lightly traced her yellow and purple cheek.

Bree sighed. “No, she didn’t,” she said. I bit my lip—I didn’t want to press, but I waited to see if she was going to elaborate. “The police are on their way, and, until then, we have to wait here,” she said. With that, she hooked her right arm though my left and rested her head on my shoulder. It was quite for a few more moments until she spoke again.

“It was an accident,” she said quietly. “I have an older brother names Logan. He has schizophrenia. I take care of him. Well, I’ve taken care of him my entire life, since our parents left us when Logan was diagnosed. I guess they didn’t want to deal with him,” she said sadly.

“Oh, Bree. I’m sorry,” I said softly, rubbing her arm sympathetically.

“I had my own problems. Y’know, depression and anxiety and all of that. I think all of that was triggered when Logan was diagnosed and when our parents walked out on us. I just felt really alone, and I was so young that I didn’t really know how to deal with Logan, and I thought he didn’t care about me because of his condition. But later I realized that we had each other, and even though he was sick, he still loved me. We figured out a routine, I got healthier, he got on a good medication, and we were happy. I went through a bad phase, which you know about already, but I got over it.Logan still lives with me, and I take care of him. I love him. He’s my brother. I would never abandon him like my good for nothing parents abandoned us,” she said quietly. “But some days are harder than others,” she murmured.

I didn’t know what to say. I unhooked my left arm from hers, and then I wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“The other day he had an episode. Things were going so well that he had forgotten to take his medication, and he just snapped. This happens from time to time. He didn’t mean anything by it. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s okay, he’s okay now. He feels guilty for it because he doesn’t even remember doing it, but I assured him that it is okay because he didn’t do it on purpose,” she explained.

“Oh,” I said quietly. We were quiet for a few moments, but a question pushed its way into my mind, and I was itching to ask it. “Bree, aren’t you sick of this?” I asked so quietly I barely even heard myself.

“No, I’m not. I knew you were going to ask that,” she laughed shortly. “You are so different from Logan and even Candace. I’m used to Logan, and it’s just normal for me. I don’t know any other life. And you, Vic…” she laughed again. “I swear it’s like you don’t even have schizophrenia,” she said. “You have problems, I guess, but you overcame them. And I’m not afraid around you. I’m afraid around Candace, definitely. I have to be careful around her. But when I’m with you, I literally don’t see anything wrong with you. It’s so damn interesting,” she said, smiling softly at me.

“Oh,” I said. “Thanks for telling me,” I said, kissing the side of her head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all I care about,” I said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” she said, nuzzling her head into my shoulder.

We sat quietly for a few minutes. After our conversation had died down, we both became tense—being brought back to reality and wondering what was going on.

“The police are almost here. And everyone is in lockdown. Candace could be anywhere in the ward at this point,” she said, and then her body stiffened.

“What is it?”

“She most likely doesn’t have any key cards or codes to get passed the doors of the ward,” she said slowly.

My eyes widened as I connected the dots. “So… she’s…”

“Yes,” Bree nodded. “She’s out there.”

“Roaming the hallways…” I nodded to the door, shivering.

“Probably,” she breathed.

“What should we do?” I asked.

“There’s nothing we can do. She’s probably really upset right now, but I unfortunately don’t think it would be a good idea to go out there and try to talk to her. We have no idea what state she is in,” she frowned.

“So we just continue to wait?” I clarified, and she nodded. I sighed, resting my head against the wall. “What an interesting last day,” I mused.

“Yeah, seriously,” she sighed. “At least we are together,” she said as she leaned into me.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I murmured, putting my other arm around her so I could engulf her into a hug. I just wanted to hold her forever…

Too bad I didn’t have forever: there was a tapping sound on the door that closed us inside of the room. Tap, tap, tap.

“That’s not creepy at all,” I whispered, trying to lighten the mood a little, but that was impossible to do no matter how hard I tried: I couldn’t successfully mask the wavering in my voice as the seriousness of our situation was nearly suffocating.

“Creepy, yes,” Bree hissed, squeezing my arm as she agreed—in all seriousness—to my observation.

“Should we answer it?” I asked dumbly.

“Shh…” her grip on me tightened as the tapping continued, our hearts thumping right along with the noise.

A voice sang on the other side of the door: “I know you’re in there!” it chimed in a high-pitched, even tone. I shivered, and Bree buried her face into my chest in fear. I noticed her hands were shaking as she carefully pulled out her phone, typing a message—I assumed—to alert whoever was in charge of what was going on.

“Open the door, please! I never got to make you my friend!” she sang again. Candace.

“She thinks it’s just me in here, maybe?” I suggested.

Bree shook her head. “All patients are accompanied by a nurse or staff or whoever."

We both trembled when the light, happy tapping on the door transferred into loud thumps.

“Maybe I should just try to talk to her, Bree…” I suggested. She immediately shook her head.

“Hell no!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper. “We don’t know if it’s safe,” she said.

The thumping continued. “Please?” Candace called—her voice broke, like she was crying. My sympathy was getting the best of me…

“C’mon, it might be better if I try to calm her down. She won’t hurt me, I don’t think,” I tried. I didn’t know why I was so keen on talking to her, though. Maybe because if it were me, I would want somebody to talk to me, to calm me down, to tell me that everything was going to be okay, no matter what I did.

“Vic, you have to understand. Logan doesn’t want to hurt me, but he does sometimes. She won’t hurt you if she can help it, but things happen,” she said. I understood her point, but I had to try something…

“Bree, she probably feels terrible right now. She needs someone to talk to. She needs someone to talk her off of the ledge, to tell her that one day everything is going to be okay, even though she did something bad. Kind of like the way you were there for me…” I said.

“You were never violent, Vic,” she reminded me.

“I guess that is true… but still,” I pressed, biting my lip. There was another thump on the door.

“It’ll be okay, Bree,” I said lowly into her ear. I could tell that she was scared—even if she dealt with bad things everyday, situations like this were not common. No matter how much she could cope with day to day, Bree was not invincible.

I decided not to go to the door just yet. The police were bound to arrive any second now, so, instead, I held Bree closely, closing my eyes and trying to block out the increasingly aggravated thumps on the door.

“Vic, please. I need your help, Vic. I know you’re in there. Please help me. Don’t let them hurt me,” Candace cried and pleaded from the other side. I clenched my eyes and gritted my teeth—I couldn’t take this anymore. I wasn’t scared… I was sad. She sounded so harmless…

“I have to go,” I said to Bree. She nodded slowly.

“She sounds okay… maybe you’re right,” Bree thought for a moment.

“Will this get you in trouble for violating rules or anything?” I asked.

“I broke the rules a long time ago,” she winked. Then, her face grew more serious. “But, yes, technically, yes. I shouldn’t allow a ‘patient’ to welcome an ‘intruder’,” she said.

I paused—I didn’t want to get Bree in trouble. I didn’t like putting her in this position.

“Please, Vic. I am hurt, I need help. Nobody else is answering the doors and I know you’re in there and it hurts and I’m alone and scared,” Candace cried.

“I’m going,” I finally decided. I couldn’t bear to hear her helpless pleas like that.

Bree nodded, not saying anything, but squeezing my hand as I slowly walked up.

I swiftly walked to the door, and I took a deep breath before I opened it up.

“Candace?” I asked softly as I parted the door open.

“Thank God,” she cried, immediately crashing into me for a hug. I carefully hugged her back.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked quietly.

“Friends tell each other these things, right?” she innocentally tilted her head to the side. I nodded. “It was an accident. She was making me take medication, but I didn’t want to. So I swatted her away, and I accidentally hit her into the corner of the desk, and there was so much blood, and I didn’t mean to hit her that hard, oh, you have to believe me, I didn’t do it on purpose and I feel terrible and now I’m in so much trouble and I still haven’t taken my pills and I don’t feel well,” she rambled, her entire body shaking as she spoke fast.

“Candace…” I said warily. “We’ll fix this, okay?” I reassured.

“How?” she asked, fierceness layering her eyes.

“I don’t know, Candace, but everything will be—”

“Don’t say that!” she shrieked, slapping me hard in the face. I jumped back in alarm. The slap itself didn’t hurt me terribly—I was more shocked than anything.

I took a calming breath, though. I couldn’t get made at her—not while she was in this state of mind.

“I’m sorry. Oh, my God, I hit you! Friends don’t hit other friends!” she cried, immediately sinking to the ground in tears. I looked over my shoulder to see Bree standing in the middle of the room, her face angry and still scared. I nodded at her, telling her that it was okay, and to stay where she was as I sat down in the hallway with Candace.

“I can’t undo what I did,” she wailed.

“Don’t—”

“I can’t undo what I did!” she cried again.

Then, suddenly, her tears dissolved. “You can’t tell anyone what I told you. Or what I did,” she said fiercely, a fire burning in her eyes.

“Candace, I’m sorry, but you have to tell someone. It’s only safer,” I said to her.

“No!” she screamed, jumping back and pulling something out of her back pocket. I jumped up with her, stumbling backwards.

“Candace, where did you get that?” I gulped, eyeing the heavy metal object cautiously.

“My cousin. She put it into her ankle holster when she visited me. Isn’t she so creative? They didn’t even notice!” Candace laughed, tossing the gun from her left hand to her right hand and back to her left hand in an agonizing hypnotism.

“Won’t you put that down?” I asked quietly.

“Why?” Candace asked, laughing.

“It’s just best if you put that down, before something bad happens,” I said nervously.

“Bad? What do you mean? Is this bad?” she smirked, holding the gun to her temple.

“Candace, no!” I panicked.

“Relax, Vic. I’m not actually going to do it,” she rolled her eyes, except I could also see tears in her eyes.

“Don’t you love being so fucked up?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“I’m not fucked up. Neither are you. We aren’t fucked up, Candace. Just a little lost. Now please put the gun down for me, okay?” I begged, smiling weakly at her for reassurance.

“No!” she said angrily, holding the gun out at me this time. I froze, my entire body stopping—my heart, my lungs, my brain. I was completely still.

“C-Candace,” I said nervously.

“No, Tyler!” Candace cried.

“Who is Tyler?” I asked quietly.

“Shut up, Tyler! Don’t tell me what to do! You are horrible! You don’t own me! Die!” she screamed, her eyes turning black as her finger hovered over the trigger. I put my hands up in innocence, hoping that whatever episode she was having would end.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head as her finger pulled back on the trigger.

There was a loud, ripping sound through the thick air of the hospital. There was a scream. Actually, there was more than one scream. I couldn’t tell for sure, though.

“Die!” she screamed in agony as police finally decided to show up, taking her down. I cringed when her body slammed into the tile floor while she continued to scream bloody murder. I wanted to help her—she needed help—but I decided to stand still as I let everyone else do their own job. Standing still was less painful, anyway.

Pain.

It seared through me like a bite from a venomous snake. It coiled around my insides like the way a rough rope wraps around one’s neck.

I looked down on myself, trying to find the origin of the intense pain I was feeling. My legs were fine: check. My arms: check. My chest: check.

My stomach. I groaned, immediately clasping my hands to my open abdomen. Blood immediately seeped through my fingers, making me nauseous.

“She had a gun,” I whispered, sudden realization crashing down on me like a tsunami.

“She shot me?” I asked to no one in particular. Shouldn’t I fall down, now? Shouldn’t I cry in pain? Shouldn’t my life flash before my eyes? Shouldn’t I see Mikey, now?

My legs weakened: I wasn’t crying in pain, my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes, and I didn’t see Mike. I did, however, eventually find myself on the ground. I didn’t know if I fell, though, or if someone eased me down slowly. I looked back down to my stomach, seeing two hands pressing into my painful wound. They were soft and feminine, and I recognized them as Bree’s.

I smiled at her. Her hands were beautiful, just like the rest of her, inside and out.

I looked back down at all of the red, seeing four hands now holding my stomach. Two of those hands, I think, belonged to me. I clutched onto Bree’s hands tightly as a wave of pain slashed through me, causing my back to slightly arch. I groaned.

“What happened to Vic? He’s my friend! Let me see my friend!” Candace screamed, and I shivered when we made eye contact.

“Bree?”

“I’m right here, Vic. It’s okay, just hold on, okay? You’re okay,” she rambled, and I could hear how she tried to keep her voice soothing, but I saw in her eyes the panic and fear.

“I-I’m okay,” I breathed roughly, knowing it was a lie. “I’m s-stupid,” I informed Bree, regarding my decision to talk some sense into a girl that just didn’t have any sense at all.

“No you are not,” she said quietly. “You’re okay,” she said.

I nodded, focusing on keeping eye contact with Bree, and Bree only. Even as other people began to surround me—police, paramedics, nurses, staff members, who knows—I didn’t break my gaze with her. I locked my eyes with her warming hazel ones, scared to look away because I didn’t want to be lost forever.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice cracking at every syllable.

I smiled at her, hoping to see her smile. She was so beautiful when she smiled; I hated to see her face contorted in worry like it was right now. She smiled softly back, and I whispered quietly to her, happy to see her smile reflect off of her face like the rays of sunshine: “You’re here.”

Notes

Ew. I'm sorry this kind of sucks. Idk. I'm not happy with it but I UPDATED AND I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK ME MORE THAN THE BEFORE PROMISED THREE DAYS! I FEEL TERRIBLE! PLEASE FORGIVE ME<3333

Updates are going to continue to be infrequent thanks to the bitch I call school and college application shit. Ew.

I mean, I guess this chapter is long so I hope it makes up for the wait? Idk why is it that in order to make something interesting happen, we turn into violent writers? Like what is my problem? **sigh**

muahaha

Candace is a whacko yet I enjoyed unleashing her


ps I wrote a short story for my creative writing in class for school and turned it into a PTV oneshot.. Check it out?? It's called "always the one" and I'd love to hear what y'all think :)