Page 55

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Saturday morning was hard.

I felt physically sick to my stomach, still processing what happened the night prior.

I checked my phone for any texts or calls from her, but there was nothing.

It made everything solidify even worse, almost like a confirmation that we were done.

Or she was done.

I wasn't even close to done, and now I have to find a way to be.

It felt unfair.

How could she just walk away so easily, and I had to live with the weight of us?

The idea that there could've been more.

I think the idea of anything is always worse because my brain tries to romanticize it.

The future is endless in my head, it felt brighter for us there.

I wanted to live in my dreams as much as possible, which led to me sleeping more than I would.

I barely got out of bed on Saturday, only to use the bathroom and shower that night.

I didn't eat out of protest.

I thought maybe if I didn't eat or leave my bed—maybe, just maybe, Monroe would come back.

I knew it was an insane idea, but it was all I had left.

Nothing else gave me hope besides my dreams, and I needed something for when I was awake.

I stayed in bed all day Sunday, too—eating only a granola bar and some fruit when my body begged for some kind of food.

Monday morning, I woke up with the same knots in my stomach as usual.

I felt anxious before my brain even had a chance to remember why.

Then everything would hit me, and I felt this huge weight pressing down on me.

Dread.

That's all I could feel as I turned my alarm off, silently sitting up in bed.

I let out a long sigh, trying to fight away the urge to cry.

It felt like there was a lump stuck in my throat, but I've grown used to it.

I quickly reached for my phone, clicking the side button with my thumb and scrolling through my lock screen.

There were numerous notifications from Instagram, TikTok, and even some messages in my group chat with Zion and Sarai.

I only searched for one contact—one text from her.

It's what I've done the last two mornings.

I sleep with my phone beside my pillow with my ringer on just in case she might call, but there's been nothing.

My hope is quickly spiraling to the point that I'm beginning to feel suffocated.

Or hopeless.

Like I'm at the bottom of this hole and I'll never make it out.

My chest hurts when I think about it too much, so I've tried to distract myself with social media or sleep.

But today, I have class and—

I drew in a deep breath, blinking a few times as I double-checked my lock screen for a message from her.

Surely she would've texted me if our therapy session had been canceled.

Right?

A slow smile grew on my lips, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out.

I can finally breathe again.

The weight is off me.

I know it's insane that I even want to continue therapy, but if it's my last tie to her, then I'll take it.

Anything is better than nothing.

I quickly slipped out of bed, checking the time on my phone.

We've been doing early sessions before my classes on Monday and Wednesday, since we spend time together in the evenings.

Or... we did.

Yeah.

I quickly rushed to my bathroom, realizing I only had forty-five minutes to get ready and leave to be at her office by eleven.

I rushed to brush my teeth and do skincare, deciding to skip on makeup and focus on my hair.

It was still in the blowout from Friday since I hadn't had the energy to do a wash day.

And I definitely don't have time for a wash day right now, so I just pulled it into a ponytail.

I used the gel Monroe had gotten me, ensuring the ponytail was sleek.

I also pulled out a few strands to frame my face that looked a little dull, but my skincare helped some.

I somehow look tired even if I've slept most of my weekend away.

Hopefully, Monroe will notice?

Maybe she'll decide it's worse for us to be apart?

So many questions and ideas ran through my head, feeling so energized all of a sudden.

I smiled as I sifted through my closet, settling on a pair of dark green sweatpants and a black Skims bodysuit.

I also pulled the matching dark green jacket over since it's cold outside, but I left it unzipped.

Then I pulled on my Golden Goose sneakers and rolled on the perfume oil Monroe loves.

I didn't bother putting on jewelry, grabbing my tote bag instead for class, and rushing out of my apartment.

My Mercedes sat parked in the parking garage, the headlights illuminating when I unlocked it.

I slid into the driver's seat, setting my tote bag in the passenger seat beside me before I started the car.

I was five minutes ahead of schedule, which felt like a good thing.

Traffic wasn't bad either, but somehow the drive felt so fucking long.

I felt on edge with excited nerves, shifting every few seconds in my seat.

I tried to listen to music to distract myself, but I swear it was no use.

I didn't even bother trying to find free parking, and instead, drove over to the parking garage.

Once I parked, I immediately turned my car off and got out, rushing inside the familiar building.

I had to slow down my walking a little when I got inside since the environment was a little more laid back.

No one was running chaotically through the lobby.

Once I got on the elevator, I tried to gather my thoughts a little better.

It's probably going to be a little awkward at first between us, so I need to lower my expectations a little.

I'm not going to walk in, and Monroe just randomly slips back into our usual routine.

Or maybe she will?

I know she likes to keep it professional, so maybe it will be like our usual appointments.

I glanced over when the shiny elevator doors dinged open, revealing the familiar dim lobby.

God, it feels so good to be here right now.

Better than I realized.

"Liberty," Sienna greeted me with furrowed brows as I stepped off the elevator.

"Hi," I said, approaching the front desk where Reagan sat as well, "I'm here for my appointment with Dr. Leclair."

Sienna pursed her lips, "Yes, Dr. Leclair didn't come in today. I'm sorry, I thought I sent you an email," she said with a frown.

I tried to prevent my face from visibly falling, but it felt like the ball of warmth around me had crumbled away.

She probably did send an email, but who even checks that?

Okay, probably a lot of people, but I don't.

Why didn't Monroe just text me?

Why did she end this?

I would've compromised for her.

Maybe I should've begged more—I should've done more.

I've thought of so many ways I could've done more for her, especially during this past weekend.

Or maybe I should've done less.

I shouldn't have tried to push her or prove the stupid point.

"Liberty?" I heard Sienna's voice echo as I gripped the counter, trying to focus on the cold marble underneath my palm.

But my chest really hurts again, and it's hard to breathe.

Don't think about her.

Don't think about her.

But I can't. It feels like she's physically attached to my thoughts like a pile of messy, melted glue.

I shook my head, letting out a series of shallow breaths.

"Reagan, is Dr. Kincaid free?" Sienna's voice echoed, and I swear all I could feel was embarrassment.

I was paralyzed, forced to endure a spiral in front of someone I mentioned wanting to take out with a fucking sword.

I guess this is karma.

"Sorry," I tried my best to force out, feeling tears burn in my eyes as I hunched over the counter trying to hide my face in my arms, "I'm sorry."

Fuck my life.

This is the worst.

"It's okay. You're all good, Liberty," I heard Reagan say, her focus for once shifted away from her computer, "Just try to breathe until Dr. Kincaid can get out here."

I shook my head, knowing the last person I should talk to right now is her.

I don't want to make things worse with Monroe.

But... she abandoned me.

She left me without another word.

She couldn't even text me about this cancellation, and she... didn't care that I spent all weekend in my apartment.

I thought she was still watching me.

I thought she still had eyes on me, but I was wrong.

She's already moved on.

She doesn't care if I ate or went outside.

She probably isn't at work because-because... she's already moved on to someone else.

What if she's with someone else?

That's so much worse.

This is so much worse—

"Liberty," I heard Dr. Kincaid's voice distantly, her heels echoing against the floors.

It reminded me of Monroe.

Fuck.

"Can you inhale a big breath?" I heard Dr. Kincaid speak again, her voice much closer.

She's standing next to me.

I unconsciously drew in the biggest breath I could, keeping my face in my arms as I tried to ignore the pain in my chest.

"There you go. Now let it out—imagine you're blowing out candles," Dr. Kincaid said, causing me to deeply exhale.

I envisioned a cake with burning candles, blowing all of them out in my head.

"Now inhale again. The deepest breath you can, Liberty."

I drew in another deep breath, trying to inhale as much as I could.

"Now blow the candles out."

I exhaled through my mouth, envisioning the same candles in my head.

"One more time, another big breath," Dr. Kincaid said, causing me to draw in the longest breath of my life, "And blow out as many candles as you can."

I let out a long exhale, feeling the warmth of my breath bundle around me as I kept my face in my arms.

"You're safe. You're okay," I heard her say.

Then I felt the delicate touch of her hand against my upper back, not wanting to startle me too much.

I sniffled, tears burning in my eyes as reality shifted back in around me.

I feel so fucking embarrassed.

I can't believe this just happened in front of them all.

I just want to go back to my apartment and never leave my bed.

I don't even want to be here anymore.

"Can you lift your head up, Liberty?" Dr. Kincaid softly asked me, but it felt like the moment I laid up, I would be faced with Sienna and Reagan.

I'm so embarrassed, oh my god.

"It's just us. No one else is in the lobby," Dr. Kincaid clarified, making my brows immediately furrow.

I lifted my head before I could think it through, hesitantly glancing between the empty office chairs.

Sienna and Reagan were gone.

Dr. Kincaid must have motioned them to leave.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, quickly reaching up to wipe my tears away.

I didn't look in Dr. Kincaid's direction, I was too embarrassed to.

"What happened is completely okay. You don't have to apologize," Dr. Kincaid assured me as I leaned away from the desk. "Why don't we go to my office? We can sit in silence or discuss anything on your mind."

I shook my head, "I don't want to inconvenience you," I sighed, staring forward through my blurry vision.

I swear I just want to go home and cry for hours on end.

"Not at all. I have a free hour," Dr. Kincaid assured me, "Dr. Leclair isn't in today, but we can always give her a call if that's more comfortable for you?"

I quickly shook my head, knowing the last person she probably wanted to talk to was me.

And that hurts a lot.

She's finished with me.

"You're safe. You're okay," Dr. Kincaid repeated when I inhaled a series of deep breaths, feeling tears spill from my eyes.

"I don't feel okay," I whispered brokenly, staring forward as I tried to get some type of grip on my emotions.

I can't stop crying.

"What else do you feel, Liberty?" I heard Dr. Kincaid ask me, her hand still pressed against my back.

I sniffled, "Hopeless," I forced out, awkwardly glancing down at the floor, "It feels like there's a weight pushing down on me, and I feel like I'm going to throw up, and it-it won't go away."

Dr. Kincaid suddenly took a step in front of me, her heels coming into peripheral vision with my shoes that I stared down at.

"Do you feel comfortable sharing more with me?" she said, her presence much closer to me.

I nodded a few times, unable to get any words out through my tears.

"Are you okay with going to my office?" Dr. Kincaid instinctively asked me.

I nodded again, sniffling as I wiped away more of my tears.

"Okay, let's walk together at your pace, Liberty," she said, her tone patient and soft with me.

I remained still for a moment, staring down at my shoes.

Then finally—

I found the courage to glance up from the floor, meeting her dark eyes.

I wanted them to be blue so badly, but they weren't.

Dr. Kincaid's expression was softened, her dark hair down and framing her face, wearing a black blouse and dress pants.

I wordlessly turned away from her, taking a hesitant step toward the familiar hallway.

Then I took another, feeling her patiently follow behind me.

The knots in my stomach grew as we walked down the hallway, unconsciously eyeing the open doorway that I knew was Monroe's office.

Dr. Kincaid's office was before hers, so I didn't even get a chance to pass it and glance inside.

I just wanted the familiarity of it.

I wanted to feel closer to her.

Dr. Kincaid's office didn't feel the same.

There wasn't a jasmine scent lingering in the air.

It smelled more tropically—like those Hawaiian plug-ins you get from the store.

Her office wasn't as big as Monroe's, but it looked similar.

She had a black couch, and her desk was situated off to the side.

There were fewer file cabinets, and her desk wasn't nearly as neat as Monroe kept hers.

Dr. Kincaid's desk had numerous stacks of papers, pens scattered, her MacBook plugged in and charging—Monroe would go into cardiac arrest at the sight of it.

"Do you need anything? Water or tea?" Dr. Kincaid asked me as I sat down on the couch, "There are tissues on the table if you need any."

I glanced over to the side table she motioned to, "Oh, thank you," I whispered, grabbing one of the tissues to dab under my eyes, "I don't need anything."

Dr. Kincaid nodded, sitting down in the cushioned chair across from me.

It made me feel a little unsettled, trying to differentiate her from Monroe.

"You said you feel hopeless," Dr. Kincaid quoted my previous words, her voice softened, and her dark eyes held mine. "Do you feel comfortable with sharing why?"

I drew in a deep breath, unconsciously glancing away from her.

"I um," I awkwardly said, pausing to figure out what to say, "I guess because someone... I liked ended things with me," I hesitantly explained, knowing I needed to choose my words carefully.

I couldn't say who this person was for numerous reasons, like the fact that Monroe is technically still my therapist, and then the NDA I signed.

"I didn't realize Dr. Leclair wasn't going to be in today," I suddenly spoke again, "She uh helped with this," I awkwardly added, glancing down at my lap.

I really hope this sounds believable.

I mean, this is our first technical session, so she probably just thinks I'm nervous.

I also just worked through a breakdown, so there are a lot of factors here.

"I'm sorry that her absence blindsided you today," Dr. Kincaid said, her voice full of sincerity.

It was odd to hear such an easy emotion in her voice.

I guess it could be nice, but I like how neutral Monroe is.

I like that she lets me form my opinion instead of showing her own.

"It's okay," I murmured, unconsciously squeezing my hands together in my lap.

Monroe would've looked down at my hands.

She would've silently acknowledged my actions for us both.

But Dr. Kincaid didn't.

She held my stare.

"Can I just sit here for a little while?" I asked her, not wanting to really talk anymore.

I don't have the energy right now.

I also don't feel like trying to watch what I say to her.

"Of course," Dr. Kincaid said, standing from her chair, "I'll get some work done. Make yourself comfortable."

I nodded a few times, slipping my shoes off so I could lie across the couch.

Dr. Kincaid dimmed the lights, making me feel more relaxed as I stared at the ceiling.

I let my heavy eyes fall closed, sighing softly through my nose as I drifted away from reality.

In my head, everything usually felt okay.

But after the breakdown I just had, the world in my head was a mess, and I was left abandoned to deal with it.

Monroe wasn't to be found even in my daydreams.

I allowed myself to go blank instead, focusing on my breathing and the rustling of papers that Dr. Kincaid flipped every so often.

I wanted to think about Monroe and how quiet she always was when I was asleep, but I couldn't anymore.

I was upset with her for leaving me like this.

Or maybe I was upset with myself.

I should've compromised.

I knew what she came with.

Monroe warned me so many times.

It was something I had to come to terms with as I lay in Dr. Kincaid's office, keeping my eyes closed as I tried my best to see things for what they were.

I crushed my hope and ruined the picture-perfect image of us that I held in my head.

It made my nausea grow worse, but I guess it was progress.

When I opened my eyes again, it was time to leave for class, which I didn't even have the energy for.

Dr. Kincaid insisted on writing me a note even if I said it was fine.

"So uh," I awkwardly spoke, standing by her desk as she signed her name on the note, "Do you have any availability?"

Dr. Kincaid glanced up, meeting my stare. "Availability?" she clarified, wanting a better explanation.

I briefly pursed my lips together, "I don't know if it's out of place to ask you about being my therapist instead?" I whispered, and I knew it was insane, but I didn't want to experiment with whatever therapist Monroe would probably refer me to.

She obviously didn't show up today for a reason.

But Dr. Kincaid was here.

She helped me.

I know Monroe doesn't like her, and Dr. Kincaid mirrors her, but that's between them.

"Of course not," Dr. Kincaid assured me, "We refer patients more often than you think. It's hard finding a true fit for yourself."

I did find my true fit.

She just... she doesn't want me.

"Yeah, I feel a lot more comfortable in here," I said as she handed me the note. "Thank you for letting me stay... even if I didn't talk," I added, taking the note from her extended hand.

"Silence can be more healing than words," Dr. Kincaid said with a smile.

I pursed my lips, trying to reciprocate her smile even if it took a lot of energy, "Yes, I really appreciate your help," I murmured, glancing down at the note she wrote me.

It wasn't cursive and elegant like Monroe's handwriting.

It was still neat, but regular handwriting instead.

"Of course, Liberty," she said, standing from her chair, "I'll handle the referral, if that's okay with you? We're moving at your pace of comfort."

I nodded a few times, "Yes, you can go ahead and handle it," I determined as she rounded her desk toward me.

"Okay, and what appointment basis are you on? Once or twice a week?" Dr. Kincaid asked as we walked toward the door.

"Uh, twice a week," I answered as I opened the door to walk through, allowing her to follow behind me.

"Do you have a certain day you prefer?" she clarified, earning a lazy shrug from me.

"Normally, I do Mondays and Wednesdays before class," I said as we walked down the hallway.

"Okay, let's stick to your current routine then. I'll get the details from Dr. Leclair," she said, walking side by side with me.

"Okay," I whispered, wondering how this would all turn out.

If it even would.

I mean, Monroe is done with me, so I don't think it should matter that I'm going to Dr. Kincaid now.

Monroe also said she doesn't have control over Dr. Kincaid, given her connections, so I don't think it would matter anyway.

"I'll see you on Wednesday," Dr. Kincaid said as we made it to the elevators. "Please take the day off from class. I deeply recommend a mental break after this morning."

I pressed the elevator button, "I should probably go for the notes portion, and then I can leave early," I said, knowing Zion wasn't in today's class, so I wouldn't be able to get notes if I missed the lecture.

"That's a good compromise," Dr. Kincaid said, making my face drop slightly before I could process it. It was the irony of her words. "Take it easy, and be patient with yourself."

I nodded, glancing over when the elevator dinged open.

I briefly told Dr. Kincaid goodbye, waving at Sienna and Reagan seated at the front desk.

They waved back as I stepped on the elevator, watching the doors smoothly close.

Then I was off to class, but only for the notes portion.

I also decided to block Monroe's number, trying to regain some sort of my power back.

It felt empowering to do even if I knew she wouldn't notice.

The last thing she'll do is text me and break the no-contact thing we have going on.

She's very clear when things are over.

I decided not to dwell on it too much, focusing on my drive over to campus.

I ended up giving my professor my note before the lecture started, and he was very nice about me leaving early.

He seemed proud that I even showed up to take notes at all, and offered to email the lecture details over instead, so I could leave.

His kindness mattered more than I realized, honestly, especially after the weekend I've had.

I swear I could cry even at the smallest thing right now.

"Libs!"

I glanced over, noticing Zion walking toward the campus I had walked away from, toward the parking lot.

I furrowed my brows, "You don't have class," I pointed out as I walked closer to him.

Even being near him made my chest clench up with longing.

I've missed him and Sarai this past weekend.

"I'm bringing Sarai lunch," he said, holding up the plastic bag in his hand.

I smiled, even if it was weak, "That's nice," I said, trying not to let his familiar presence get to me.

I really don't want another breakdown again.

"Are you good?" Zion asked, his dark eyes trailing my face.

I don't think it's obvious anymore that I had been crying.

Or maybe it was, and that's why my professor let me leave earlier.

"And don't you have class right now?" Zion spoke again when I remained silent.

"Yeah, it's just been a long morning," I said, the best excuse I could think of, which technically wasn't a lie, "I've been studying nonstop, and I think it's getting to me a little."

Now that was a lie.

Zion pursed his lips into a frown, "Don't stress yourself out," he said, reaching his arm out to pull me into a hug. "You're really smart, and you already have a good grade. Everything's all good."

I nodded a few times, desperately trying not to break down crying in his arms right now.

Then I would need a better explanation that I can't give without lying more.

"You're totally right," I whispered with a forced smile, pulling back from the hug, "I think I'm just going to head home and take a break."

Zion raised a brow, "You sure? Because you can always join us for lunch," he offered.

I quickly shook my head, knowing I wouldn't make it through lunch without crying.

Or thinking of Monroe.

"I really want to go home and chill, honestly," I admitted, earning a nod from Zion.

"Hopefully, you feel a little better," he said, flashing me his usual smile. "Text me later with updates. I don't want you burning out."

I forced a smile, hating that I lied to him, "Of course, have fun with, Sarai," I said, leaning in for a side hug.

Then we said our brief goodbyes, heading in separate directions.

I swear, I let out the deepest breath of relief when I was finally in my car and all alone again.

I turned the heat on to fight the cold, putting my car in drive to head over to my apartment.

Traffic was a little more condensed compared to earlier, but it wasn't too bad.

It took close to twenty minutes to get to my apartment, immediately sliding my shoes off as soon as I got inside.

I left them by the door, walking over to my bed that I planned to lie in for the next few hours.

I didn't bother with eating, putting my phone on the charger, and also on Do Not Disturb, rather than keeping the ringer on.

My phone wasn't beside my pillow as it had been all weekend—I put it on my nightstand instead.

Then I got comfortable in bed, deciding to sleep for a few hours with hopes of avoiding reality for a little while.

I went in and out of sleep until the evening, waking up with a fogginess crowding my head.

I also had a small headache from oversleeping.

I reached for my phone first, unlocking it to text Zion that I felt better, even if it was a lie.

I guess I don't feel worse, maybe the same?

That's still pretty bad, but better than it getting worse.

I sighed as I turned off my Do Not Disturb, swiping down my lock screen to see any new notifications.

My stomach dropped at the hundreds of missed calls from a No Caller ID, wondering what I had missed when I was asleep.

A part of me wanted to be delusional and assume it was Monroe calling since I blocked her.

But I didn't want to give myself false hope.

Not after this morning.

I froze when my phone began buzzing in my hand.

No Caller ID.

It was another call from the unknown number.

I drew in a deep breath, hesitantly pressing the green button to answer.

Maybe a small part of me hoped it was her despite trying not to be hopeful anymore.

Maybe I would get to hear her familiar smooth voice.

"Hello?" I spoke as I pressed the phone to my ear, my voice raspy from just waking up.

"Liberty," I heard her sigh, immediately making my world tilt off its axis.

Tears weighed down my eyes before I could fight them away.

"Monroe," I whispered, my voice weak as I tried to blink my tears away.

I heard her let out another sigh—it was deeper, almost relieved.

"I heard what happened today," she spoke again, her soft voice smoothing out all the tension inside of me, "Talk to me. What's going on, Liberty?"

I shook my head, "I didn't know you—" I paused, trying to swallow the lump in my throat as I thought back to this morning, "I didn't know you wouldn't be there, and it's been a really hard weekend, Ro."

"I know it's been very hard," she softly whispered, making more tears burn in my eyes, "You need to eat, Liberty."

I shook my head, "I can't. I..." I trailed off, realizing she did still have eyes on me.

How else would she know that I'm not eating?

I should probably close my blinds—anyone can see in.

"I'm really sorry," I brokenly whispered, drawing in a series of deep breaths when more tears weighed down my eyes, "I didn't mean to push you."

"It's okay, Liberty. Everything is okay," she assured me, making me break down worse.

"But-but it's not. You said—" I drew in a sharp breath, squeezing my eyes closed when I began crying even worse. "You said you would always be here for me, but you weren't today, and-and..." I trailed off, a weak sob burning in my throat as I buried myself under my covers.

"I should've clarified my absence better. It wasn't my intention to blindside you like this, Liberty," Monroe clarified, her voice grounding me to this moment, "I'm always here for you, but right now, space is healthy."

I shook my head, "It's not—I don't want space, Monroe," I forced out, crying even more as I kept my phone pressed to my ear.

"Everything is very fresh here, Liberty," she said, her voice as calm as usual, "It would be harder if we didn't implement the necessary space."

I sniffled as I kept my eyes shut, my face damp from the tears escaping my eyes.

She's really done.

This is over.

She's not calling to give me another chance.

She just wanted to smooth over everything, probably for her sake.

"I'm going to Dr. Kincaid now," I suddenly spoke, my voice hoarse and weak, "She helped me a lot today," I whispered.

My tone wasn't spiteful, nor purposeful.

It was genuine, like I was updating her on what happened.

"So I've heard," Monroe said, and it wasn't surprising that the referral got back to her. "Let me give you a more suitable referral, Liberty."

I shook my head, "No," I whispered, pushing the covers off me to lie up, "Dr. Kincaid is suitable."

"Liberty—"

"You just don't like her, but I'm not involved with whatever is going on between you both," I cut her short before she could sway my decision.

"You are thoroughly involved, Liberty. Deeper than you realize," Monroe calmly corrected me. "Dr. Kincaid isn't ideal after everything that's happened. You need a therapist in a different environment from me. Someone who can help you selflessly without benefiting from it."

I shook my head, "I'm not letting you make another decision for me," I determined, refusing to give in.

Maybe a part of me wanted to be in the same office as her.

It was as close as I would ever get to her again.

"I know you can't refuse the referral," I spoke again, my words rushed, "She has connections."

"I told you that in confidence, Liberty. You need to let this one go," Monroe said, her voice more serious with me.

I missed when she would get serious with me.

I missed everything about her.

"I'm not your problem to fix anymore, Monroe," I mumbled, drawing in a deep breath as tears blurred my vision.

"You were never a problem to begin with. Do you understand me?" she said, and I could hear the sudden firmness in her voice.

My words offended her.

"I feel like a problem," I admitted in a whisper, sighing as more tears slipped from my eyes.

"Never," Monroe clarified, making me draw in a wavered breath, "Don't make that assumption again."

I sniffled, shaking my head as I tried to push away the warmth her words brought me.

The reassurance they held.

"I'm sincerely asking you to let this referral go, Liberty," she said when I remained silent, "I want better for you."

"You say that as if I don't know what better is," I said, blinking a few times as I processed her words.

Is she manipulating me again?

Is this phone call just another way to get me to comply, to not switch over to Dr. Kincaid?

"I'm not disregarding your knowledge, Liber—"

"I have to go," I suddenly cut her short, feeling my face burn up from my words.

I didn't give her a chance to say anything else.

I lowered the phone away from my ear, ending the call before I could talk myself out of it.

But it didn't matter what else she had to say—this is over between us.

She only called about Dr. Kincaid.

I suddenly stood from my bed, walking out of my bedroom toward the kitchen.

She wants me to eat?

Fine.

I roughly yanked open my cabinet, grabbing the first box in front of me.

Fruity Pebbles.

I grabbed a bowl and spoon, pulling my fridge open for the milk.

I poured the biggest bowl I could manage, grabbing more snacks and spreading them across the kitchen island like ammunition.

Then I leaned over the counter, shoving spoonfuls of the sugary cereal into my mouth, even as it made me nauseous.

I didn't care.

I kept eating.

I even crumbled some of the golden Oreos into the cereal, scooping bigger spoonfuls into my mouth that I nearly choked on.

Then I grabbed the potato chips, shoving handfuls into my mouth as I chewed harshly.

I ripped open the bag of powdered donuts next, eating two of those before picking up the spoon in my soggy cereal.

I finished off the big bowl of Fruity Pebbles, grunting as I tried to push past my nausea.

I stared at the open windows the entire time, knowing someone out there was watching and reporting back to her.

I kept eating.

More and more.

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn't stop.

Not until my stomach gave out.

I bolted to the bathroom when I gagged on pure vanilla frosting, unable to force any more food down.

My eyes burned as I hunched over the toilet, throwing up everything I forced myself to eat.

It didn't faze me.

I've thrown up hundreds of times from being too drunk.

This felt better than anything I'd felt in days.

It was something, and I was desperate enough to endure it.

I felt something other than those unbearable emotions, distracted by my body jerking each time more bile spilled from my lips.

But somehow...

I felt worse when it was all over.

The dread swallowed me whole as I collapsed against my bathroom floor, sobbing for it to stop.

All I could do was stare up at my bathroom ceiling, waiting for the dreadful feeling to fade.

But it never did.

I laid there for hours, not moving an inch as I stared blankly at the ceiling with nothing else left to give.

My tears dried on my cheeks, and my body stopped trembling.

All that was left was this heavy void.

I felt nothing.

But nothing is better than something.