“Answer me!”
My shoulders trembled. I felt the child rising inside — the small voice that didn’t know how to fight back, the girl who wanted to curl up in the dark and pretend the world wasn’t real. My fingers moved to my mouth, thumb slipping between my lips, and I sucked quietly, rocking just slightly.
Mom’s eyes narrowed.
“God, you’re pathetic,” she spat, disgust dripping from every word. “You are not a child, Brittany. Grow up.”
With one last glare, she spun on her heel and stormed out, her heels hammering the floor like a judge’s gavel.
The door swung shut behind her, but I barely noticed.
“Brit,” came another voice — deeper, weary. My father.
I peeked up, thumb still in my mouth, blinking rapidly as I tried to focus. He stood in the doorway, one hand shoved in the pocket of his navy suit, the other dragging tiredly across his face.
“Your mother… she’s right, you know,” he said softly, stepping closer. “You’ve been reckless. Wild. Running from one disaster to the next. I’m tired, Brittany. I can’t keep defending you to the board, the press, our friends. One more mistake, and… and you’re on your own. You hear me?”
My heart shriveled, and the child inside curled tighter.
“I love you, Brit. But love doesn’t mean I condone this.” His voice cracked. “I can get you help. You just have to want it.”
My lips trembled, thumb still pressed tightly, words tangled in my throat. But no sound came out. He exhaled sharply, turned, and walked away — his broad back retreating down the hall.
I stared at the door, at the empty space they left behind. Alone. Again.
The doctor came in next, clipboard in hand, eyes gentle but firm.
“Brittany,” she began carefully, “we’d like to enroll you in our program. It’s helped many young women in your position. You don’t have to keep doing this alone.”
Alone. Alone. Alone.
I shook my head violently, arms wrapping tighter around myself.
“I’m fine,” I choked out, a brittle smile stretching across my face. “It was just… a moment of weakness.”
The doctor frowned. “Brit, you were found unconscious. You—”
“I said I’m fine!” I snapped, voice sharp but eyes wet. I forced the smile wider, the tears slipping down anyway.
“Fine,” the doctor murmured quietly. “We’ll give you some time.”
And then the door opened, and he walked in.
Ace.
His eyes flicked over me — from the pale skin, the shaking hands, the too-bright smile, the thumb still half-tucked against my mouth — and something in his jaw tightened.
“Jesus, Brit.” His voice was low, raw, rough around the edges. “Look at you.”
I looked up, smile quivering, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
“I’m fine, Ace,” I said softly, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “Really. Just a bad day.”
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “A bad day? Brit, you almost died!”
I flinched.
His fists clenched at his sides. “You’re lying to everyone. To me. To yourself. And you’re smiling through it like it’s all just a joke! When are you going to wake up?”
