I watched in stunned silence, heart pounding, wanting to be small, invisible, safe — the way I felt in my episodes. But I stayed in place, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white.
---
A week later, Jasper finally convinced me.
The best psychiatric hospital in the country. North Carolina. Dr. Michaels.
I remember standing in Dr. Michaels’ office, a soft beige room lined with books and warm lamps. He sat across from me, his gaze gentle but sharp, like he was peeling back layers of my soul.
“Brittany,” he said softly, “I believe you are experiencing a condition called dissociative regression — episodes where you retreat into a childlike state as a defense against trauma and stress.”
I blinked, folding my hands in my lap. “So… I’m not crazy?”
He smiled faintly. “Not crazy. Hurt. And we can help.”
Jasper sat beside me, fingers loosely intertwined with mine. He squeezed gently. “Brit… please.”
Dr. Michaels leaned forward. “I recommend admission. Take a week to prepare, say your goodbyes, pack what you need—”
“I don’t need a week,” I interrupted softly. “I have no one to say goodbye to.”
Jasper’s eyes welled. “Brit…”
“I’m ready,” I whispered.
---
An hour later, I was on a private plane, Jasper beside me, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders.
I stared out the window as the clouds rolled by, a strange calm settling over me. The life I’d known — the chaos, the cameras, the expectations — it was all shrinking behind me like a distant city fading into the mist.
Jasper tucked a blanket around me. “You’re brave, you know that?” he murmured.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I don’t feel brave.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You are. You’ve survived everything we weren’t supposed to survive.”
We landed under a gray sky. A black car waited at the tarmac, and I clutched Jasper’s arm as we drove through winding roads lined with pine trees until the hospital came into view — a sprawling estate, more like a sanctuary than a clinic.
As we entered, I felt my chest tighten. The air smelled like lavender and old wood. Nurses in soft blue scrubs smiled gently as we passed.
Jasper squeezed my hand as we stopped at the admissions desk. “I’ll visit every weekend. I swear.” His voice cracked.
I smiled faintly. “Promise you won’t fall in love with someone new by then?”
He gave a soft, broken laugh. “Never, Brit.”
A nurse approached. “We’re ready when you are, Miss Ashford.”
I swallowed hard. My fingers trembled as I reached for my brother, hugging him fiercely. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
His voice was thick with tears. “Never, Britty. Never.”
As they led me down the hallway, I felt something strange flutter in my chest — a quiet, fragile hope.
Maybe… just maybe… I was going to find my way back.
Chapter 20
