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I hate this place, and I hate her.

“Oh, are you sad?” Kurt says in a pitiful puppy voice before he busts out laughing. “Look,” he says to anyone who will listen, “I think he’s gonna cry.”

“Fuck off.” I break myself away and go upstairs, passing an old family portrait that hangs on the wall. I can’t look at it, at us, at my father, at what used to be. To remember hurts too much, so I’d rather forget.

A current of heat begins streaming through my body and when I shut myself in my room, anger begins to boil. Somehow, I’ve managed to keep myself together for this past week since being home, but for what?

Why?

Is it even worth it?

A voice inside whispers to my remedy, and I can’t think of a single reason not to give in. Swallowing thickly, I punch my cast into the wall when tears swell. Emotions strangle me, reminding me of all my pain and how I’m too weak to manage it.

Pathetic heartbreak slips down a cheek, and I’m shoving clothes into a backpack so fast, tossing in a few more items before grabbing an armful of blankets.

I clamor down the stairs angrily, go over to the foyer, and grab my car keys that are sitting on a small table.

To hell with my suspended license.

No one even notices me above the loud television as I make my way out to the garage where my car is. After tossing everything inside, I head into the kitchen and grab a couple of bottles from the liquor cabinet because I have nothing left to lose.

It’s all been taken from me already.

As soon as the garage is open, I hammer down on the gas, and speed off.

HARLOW

“School starts in less than two weeks, correct?” Dr. Amberg asks as he scribbles something in my file.

“Yeah, why?”

Lifting his head, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and crosses his leg over the other. “I’d like to see you at school on the first day this year.”

A glimmer of hope illuminates within me. I didn’t get this opportunity junior year, which only fed peoples’ curiosity and led them to the conclusion that I’m a teen mom.

High school is so dumb.

“So, what are you saying?” my mother asks.

Dr. Amberg smiles. “I think it’s time for you to go home, Harlow.”

“Are you serious?”

“You’ve been making great strides over the past month, and after visiting with Dr. Benson and some of the nurses, I feel it’s time for you to get yourself back out there.”

A sigh of relief falls out of me, and my mother takes my hand in hers. When I look at her, she’s smiling softly, and I return my own before addressing Dr. Amberg. “When can I go?”

“I’ll have you set up for discharge on Friday.” He pencils a note in my chart and closes the file. “How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds great.”

“What will her treatment look like moving forward?” my mom asks.

“Same as last time. Outpatient sessions with me at my private office once a week.” He then turns to me. “Since we adjusted your meds again a few days ago, I want to touch base with you over the course of the next couple of weeks, but if you start experiencing any side effects, you need to call, understood?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“A new school year can be triggering to some, so during the time you have left with us, I’m going to schedule you for some extra one-on-ones to get a plan in place as you transition.”