

The Truth about Lilly Barnes

By:

Kimberly Russell

Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Russell

Cover Photograph, Copyright © by Koppi Write Photography

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

"I know now that there is no one thing that is true – it is all true." – Ernest Hemingway

To Antonio: For being my best friend

Acknowledgements

I have already thanked my husband, but he deserves a second mention. I think writers are generally neurotic people, and I am no exception. He puts up with me as I make him read pieces of John Green's writing while I cry about how I will never be as good as him. <\- True story!

Thank you to my beautiful sister, Hope. You are the best cover model a girl could ask for, and I love you!

Thank you to all of my friends and family who support me endlessly. It makes me so happy that I have those who care about this journey.

Thank you to the Northwest Houston Book Club. I love being a part of this group, and I have met awesome lifelong friends here. They are the best!

Thank you to Aunt Christina and Jenn Carlen for reading this novel while I was still working on it. I really value your opinions.

A special thank you goes to Crystal Ibarra for reading this so many times. You are my favorite thing at work and I am happy our friendship has carried over into this project.

A thank you to Deborah Bracken, for helping me with the cover; I think it looks amazing and you should quit your day job!

Thank you to Amanda Lopez, for being half of my brain and for helping me with the book trailer. You are wonderful.

Lastly, thank you to anyone who is reading this page! I will never be able to express what it means to have people read my words. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

Chapter One - Lilly

Today is the day it is going to happen. I'm not melancholy or nervous. I just want to get it over with more than anything. Today is the day that I, Lilly Barnes, die.

I know what you're thinking, that I'm going for the dramatic with that line, but I really am dying tonight. And it will be all my choice and by my own hands.

I continue walking down the school hallway in high alert. In my mind I silently say goodbye to things as I pass them. Goodbye locker I could never get open. Goodbye Mrs. Rooms, you were actually a pretty decent choir teacher. You never once let on that I can't carry a tune. Goodbye Derek Johnson who never paid attention to me. I will miss staring at the back of your perfectly shaped head in Spanish class. ¡Qué linda!

The news of my death will spread through this town like wildfire. People will pretend to be sad, but most won't really care at all. Well, I take that back; the only person who will really care is my best friend, Buddy, but he will get over it in time. Buddy will be the only person I genuinely miss in this place (this place being Earth of course).

The school memorial held in my honor will mostly be free of tears. One of the popular girls will claim to have secretly been my best friend, and people will fawn over her for her loss.

Poor thing.

Student council will most likely put up a cheesy memorial in front of my locker, perhaps placing flowers and candles someone picked up from the dollar store.

I only hope they won't put one of those God-awful posters up, the one where my nostril is the size of a human head. No one wants to see that.

In the last week I have tried to talk myself out of it, but my mind is set and I am past changing my own agenda. There is only one way out of all of this, and that is to be taken out permanently.

In the past week I have tried working through different scenarios in my head. I could move to New York and become a teen prostitute, living with other teen prostitutes, eventually gaining freedom from my pimp who most likely is beating me. I would live happily ever after spending my time in Central Park, walking and eating those roasted almonds I read they have in the winter. But, the truth is, I'm not a happily ever after kind of girl.

This scenario has also been played out in Paris and Greece. My main issue is that I don't have any money to get me out of here. I'm pretty sure the Greyhound that runs near Bayberry doesn't stop close to the Eiffel Tower.

I could get Buddy and tell him it was time to leave. He would understand; he hates this town as much as I do. Buddy would help me the moment I asked. I wouldn't need a concrete plan or give reasons for fleeing out of here.

He would follow me anywhere, I just know it.

We could get in his truck and drive. We could drive until we hit an ocean. We could find odd jobs washing dishes or sweeping floors. We could make it work if we tried.

And I know we would really try.

But, the truth is that I love Buddy too much to do that to him. Buddy is going places and I would only drag him down. Way down.

I think of all the things I will miss. I think about coffee, red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, Little Women, and Channing Tatum. Oh, how I will miss Channing Tatum.

I try not to think about the things I won't miss. I try not to think about the reasons why I am even doing this in the first place.

The bad far outweighs the good in my life.

The last 17 years have been hard to say the least. I currently reside in hell. I have had enough pain to last a lifetime. I feel like I am ready to stop the pattern. I am ready for everything to just stop.

Have you ever seen those commercials late at night, the ones that say a penny a day will change the life of a child? You know what I'm talking about. The children are usually standing outside in some field in a faraway country that I will never visit. The children have extended stomachs and flies on their noses or some shit like that. You know the ones. Well, a foundation should be started for me, because I have it worse. The Save Lilly Barnes from All Her Immediate Terrors Foundation.

Sure, my face is fly free, but I guess you will just have to take my word for it.

I have it worse.

Any minute now Angelina Jolie is going to come bursting through the door and adopt me (hopefully she'll bring Brad Pitt). At least that is what a girl in my position hopes will happen.

The truth is that people don't care about a girl who seems to be doing okay on the outside. Sure, I wear more eyeliner than the average girl at school. My makeup has even gotten me coined as Goth in some circles. But eyeliner does not an unhappy life make. I should point out that this category I have been thrown into is only by Bayberry standards. I would be normal in any other school. Well, as normal as a damaged girl can be.

But the clique I have been placed in isn't the reason why I am doing this. I don't need the attention. A boy hasn't broken my heart. I just can't take this life anymore. I am genuinely a cup half full kind of girl but I can't see this getting any better.

I know that it won't.

I understand that on the outside I look like I am doing alright. You would never be able to tell that I am breaking on the inside. My outsides do not match my insides at all.

I am of average height and average weight. I have average brown/blond hair, average brown eyes and am of average intelligence. I am nothing special. I am not particularly beautiful. I have no special talents. I can't play an instrument. I am not an artist of any kind, and I am sports challenged.

I am your run-of-the-mill, average American teenager living in a small town in Texas. I could walk by you and you wouldn't even notice me. It may sound like I am complaining, but I am just stating the facts.

Average, average, average.

I live in a town in Texas called Bayberry, and it is just as boring as it sounds. You can barely step out of place without everyone knowing about it. Everyone knows everyone else and all of their personal business. These small towns are supposed to be a great place to raise your family, but I think they do more harm than good. Sure, we can ride our bikes and leave them out in the front yard, and we don't have to lock our doors at night, but we trade those freedoms for others. We lose the freedom to come and go as we please and the freedom to privacy.

Chapter Two – Lilly

I made it to my seat working on autopilot. I am sitting in my last class ever: Spanish. Spanish is one of my better subjects. I paid attention, you never know, New York could have turned into Spain and I needed to know the language.

I have spent a lot of free time dreaming about living in Spain. I could teach English to the locals. I could work at the Mercado Central in Valencia. I could sell fresh fruit. I could haggle with Americans in a souvenir shop. I could have worked in a tapas bar.

I could get lost in a sea of 800,000 people.

I could get lost in myself.

I shake my head, freeing myself from that train of thought. Those doors are closed to me; it is too late to make any last ditch efforts. I have made up my mind. It is happening tonight; it has to be done.

I walk in the house through the side door. Goodbye side door, you were as nice as a door can be, except for that time you smashed my finger when I was little.

I smell dinner already cooking, and I can smell bacon. This means breakfast for dinner, Donnie's favorite.

Donnie is at the table waiting to be served like some sort of king. I want to smack the imaginary crown off his head. Wordlessly, I sit down at the table. It makes perfect sense to sit and eat my last meal with him.

Donnie is my stepdad. My mom married him when I was seven. I don't remember anyone asking me if I thought this was a good idea, but you can bet I wouldn't have consented to our new family arrangement.

I am, of course, not seven anymore, but actually seventeen and things haven't gotten any better for Donnie and me over the years. In fact, it has gotten much worse. I can't stand to even be in the same room as him. I can't even stand the sight of him.

Donnie is a tall man with a good amount of muscle. He has brown hair and usually sports a brown beard. He talks about women who want him (other than my mother) but I don't know if it's true or not. He is almost a decade younger than my mom and rubs it in her face all the time. I hate him with every fiber of my being. But, for some reason that my simple brain will never understand, my mom loves him.

"How was your day, Hunny?"

As if she even cares. Already, I can tell she has been drinking.

"Fine," I don't have the time or patience to have a conversation. I want to sit down and eat my last meal, and I would like to do it with as much peace as possible.

I knew this day would come; there wasn't any other way. I just wasn't sure how it would happen. I don't have access to a gun and don't think I could go through with it that way anyway. I don't think I could drown myself. I wasn't jumping off of a building. Cutting wasn't the way to go either. In my mind that only left one option: pills.

The best I could hope for was gently going to sleep. Sure, I was basically taking the coward's way out, but not all of us can be brave.

Once I decided on the method, I knew the way out. Buddy's grandma has cancer, pancreatic cancer to be more specific. I went through her medicine cabinet in her bathroom. With all the medicine that was at her disposal it made me sad she was losing her battle. She has one of those days of the week containers, I looked under each letter, and they were all full to the brim. Surely she wouldn't notice a few missing from each divider. I casually asked Buddy about his grandma's health and what she was taking; he said almost everything was to manage pain.

I had pain to manage.

Surely this was only fair.

Back in my room, I pulled the bottle with all of its assorted content out. I spread the pills out on my bed, taking in my future. I hadn't really thought past this point.

What should I do? Write a letter listing my grievances? No.

Maybe put on some music? No, I was sure my death shouldn't be Dj'd.

I instead get up for a large glass of water.

I don't want anyone to interrupt me, but my bedroom doesn't have a lock on the door. I push my desk chair under the door handle to secure it. I hope that makes it stay put; I have only seen that done in the movies.

I sit down on my bed to begin the end.

The one thing I don't count on is getting full from water. I start by taking the pills one at a time with a mouth full of water, much like I would do if I had a headache. After about a dozen of them I switch to taking more at a time.

Ironically, I am not that great at swallowing pills, but it's better than the alternative ways of doing this.

I lay down on my bed waiting for things to go into effect. So far all I can feel is my stomach expanding from fullness. I lay in my bed for what feels like at least half an hour.

This is taking too long. I want it to be over with.

I get up to test out my weariness. I do a few jumping jacks which makes the water swish around in my stomach. I stand on one foot and put the other in front, lifting it off of my bedroom floor.

I feel nothing.

The only thing I am feeling is frantic. Now I really want this to end.

I want this to be over. The thought of another day makes me sick.

I leave my bedroom and make my way to the kitchen, checking to make sure the coast is clear. I look through the top cabinets for inspiration but come up short. I open one of the drawers and find our knives. I don't have the guts to go down like that, at least not yet. I open the cabinet below the sink and hit the jackpot - bottles with warning labels. Bottles that tell you if you ingest even the smallest amount you are to immediately report to a hospital.

This is perfect.

I turn the labels so they face me. One promises no streaks left on glass. One will polish any wood surface leaving long lasting shine. One is just straight up bleach. My eye catches a label that interests me. It promises to disinfect me and to leave me smelling like pine and lemon.

I like lemon.

I grab the bottle with both hands. I decide to take this on a classy route and pour it in a glass cup.

At least when I die they can say I had lemony fresh breath.

I bring the cup to my face. Without another thought other than getting this done, I bring the glass to my lips and take a huge swallow.

My need for fresh air is immediate. My face, my throat, my insides are on fire. It hurts through my nose and under my ears. I lean over the sink waiting for it to come up. I open my mouth to try to take in deep breaths, and let me tell you, my mouth does not taste like lemon.

I feel like I am on fire.

I have turned into a dragon breathing fire. I switch the sink faucet on and put my mouth to the spout. I take in deep gulps of the unfiltered water to try to cool down the burning.

I remove myself from the sink. I still have at least one more go round of this. It suddenly doesn't feel like I am taking the wimpy way out anymore.

I go for it, one more mouthful. It does not improve in taste. I have trouble swallowing and I let it sit in my mouth for a second until I can actually feel it start to burn the inside portion of my cheek.

The last swallow is horrible. My stomach is angry at me; every amount of me is alive in painful protest.

I retreat back to my bed before anyone sees me. I don't replace the chair because now I can get away with this looking like a nap. I am a lazy teen who takes naps after school.

It isn't long until I feel the combination of the things I have taken going into effect. I feel dizzy and buzzed, different from feeling drunk though.

The best thing I can do for myself now is to not think about the reasons I am doing this. I try to think of a happy thought. I let the happy thoughts wash over me.

I want to end this in happy thoughts.

I think about the time Buddy and I were around twelve and his dad set up a tent in their backyard. His dad ran an extension cord all the way to the tent and we watched Star Wars on a 9 inch black and white television. His mom brought us marshmallows and chocolate and we pretended they were smores even though they were cold. We didn't care that we were really in his backyard eating cold smores - we were having the best time. It was one of those times when you were in the moment and you thought to yourself that this is one of the moments I will always remember. When my hair is grey, I will remember this and smile back fondly. I wasn't grey yet, far from it, but it was one of my favorite moments.

We tried telling ghost stories but since Buddy and I were always together we only knew the same ones. We didn't have stories of our own. So we retold our favorite, like the one about the dead lumberjack who lived in the woods near Bayberry. In the night he would leave the woods and cut down children instead of trees. This one was particularly scary because the back of Buddy's house faced the woods, and when it was time to sleep I was actually frightened. I had spooked myself enough to want to go back inside.

Buddy told me that everything was going to be okay and to further reassure me, he held my hand while I tried to fall asleep. I remember thinking that nothing could hurt me as long as he was here with me. I remember thinking that maybe we were too old for this, that if the other boys saw us now they would make fun of Buddy for being best friends with a girl, and if the other girls saw us they would laugh and start singing songs about k-i-s-s-i-n-g. But, it wasn't like that with us. Buddy was the boy who held my hand when I needed him and nothing more. Then again, that seemed to be a lot.

I think about Buddy and his red hair, and how it's getting redder as he gets older, but his freckles are getting lighter. He doesn't look so much like a little boy anymore. He's getting taller too, finally catching up with his brothers. I'm going to miss him turning into a man. I will only know him when his arms are scrawny. I won't get to see him turn into everything I know he can be. I know he's going to be a great father and husband one day.

I wish Buddy could hold my hand right now, not that he would. Buddy would think I was being a coward and maybe I am, who knows, but this feels right. As I get more and more tired this feels more and more right.

I am a little frightened again, much like that night in the tent. I am lying on my stomach and I reach over my head to hold my own hand. It feels stupid and not the least bit reassuring, but it seems right to be by myself in the end. I am at peace with my choice. I am finally at peace.
Chapter Three – Lilly

I feel so cold. I'm cold everywhere. I try to open my eyes, but I don't have the strength. I get a peek of light and close my eyes back right away.

Why am I so cold? I work on slowly prying my eyes open again, it's a lot of work and as soon as I do I instantly wished I hadn't put in the effort.

I am not dead.

Unless the dead are aware that they are cold, and unless the dead are held in, what is this, a hospital bed? My brain slowly puts it together, I am in the hospital. The last thing I can remember is laying in my bed thinking about Buddy, drifting off to sleep. How did I get here? I can't believe this didn't work. I can't believe I'm not dead. I seriously did not just go through all that lemon freshness for nothing.

I slowly open my eyes to their full expanse.

My mother is asleep in a chair beside the bed, curled up into a neat ball. She is plain Jane like me, in fact, I am just a younger carbon copy of her appearance wise, but today she looks beautiful sleeping. I can tell the chair is small, but my mother is smaller so it works. She actually looks comfortable.

Donnie is staring, hazy-eyed at me. "What did you do? What the hell did you do?"

At the sound of voices in the room my mom's eyes fly open. In one fell swoop she is crying at my bedside.

"Lilly, what did you do? How could you do this me?"

Right, because this was about her.

I look back and forth at the both of them, their faces expectant of answers. Answers I can't or won't provide. My voice is hoarse when I speak and it causes actual physical pain, but I have to get this out.

"I want you both out of my room." I don't know where the bravery is coming from, I'm never this brave. Never.

"Your room," my mom says, "you are in a hospital, Lilly. You aren't in your room."

"She has the right to ask you to leave."

I look up to see where the voice is coming from. A thin, older woman is standing in the doorframe. She has red hair, and I want to smile because I secretly always wanted to be a ginger like her and Buddy. They're a dying breed you know.

At this thought I realize they must have given me some kind of drug. That must be where I got my bravery from. I feel brave and stupid right now.

I have never seen this woman in my life, but right now she is my favorite person.

"Who the hell are you?" my mom says, not hiding her resentment very well.

"My name is Dr. Marks. Again, I am asking you to leave this room while I speak to your daughter."

"You can't speak to her without our permission," Donnie says.

"You're thinking of the police, not doctors."

My guardian angel steps outside of the doorway and holds the door open all the way, showing them their way out.

****

"My name is Dr. Marks. I am here to evaluate you and more importantly to see if I can be of some help."

"Okay."

"I'm just going to ask you a couple of questions and I need you to be as honest as possible."

"Okay."

"How do you feel?"

"Fine." That's actually a lie though. My throat hurts just saying these few words.

"Do you know where you are?"

"I'm in a hospital."

"Do you know why you are in the hospital?"

"I tried to kill myself."

"Why did you want to die?" Straight and to the point, and I liked her better for it.

"Because." A genius and exceedingly adult answer, Lilly.

"Are you going to try to kill yourself again?"

"Yes."

Her face registers no change. No surprise. Maybe she is a trained professional, or maybe she couldn't sense my desperation. I hadn't thought about trying to kill myself again, there hasn't been time. But, if you leave me alone for a minute my brain would get there on its own.

"Would you like to tell me why?"

"No."

"Fair, enough. It was nice to meet you, Lilly."

That's it? That was my big doctor evaluation? I sort of don't see the point of her coming in here, but I'm glad she ran them out of the room.

I lay down flat on my back, or as flat as the bed will allow me. From watching television I know that there are buttons somewhere on the side of the bed to make it rise and fall. I stretch my hand out to locate the buttons when I notice something on my hand. I'm wrong - there is something in my hand, it's an IV. I've never actually seen one in person before, much less in my own hand. It doesn't hurt though. I follow the little tube and my eyes make it to a bag on this metal thing. The bag is filled with fluid, which is apparently going into my body. It seems sort of unnecessary to prolong my life but I guess they can't just let me die. I'm sure there would be paperwork.

My throat is so sore. Answering those few questions set it on fire. I feel a weird substance around my teeth and tongue, almost like dirt.

I easily slip in and out of sleep until I hear squeaky wheels coming towards me. A tray is placed in front of me. I've never stayed in a hospital before but I have heard about how horrible the food can be, but what's placed in front of me isn't what I expected. I don't actually get food at all. The nurse gave me two cups of juice. That's cool; I will just starve to death. It will take more time, but the end result would be the same.

The juices are tiny and fit in my hand. They are sealed with a foil of some kind. I pick one up, its grape flavored. I pull back the seal and take a sip.

It's glorious.

The juice is still partly frozen and it feels so good on my throat. If I wanted to live, I could see myself living off of this juice.

Time passes with me fading in and out of consciousness.

Chapter Four – Lilly

As it turns out, the state doesn't let you try to kill yourself then send you home. It turns out that they send you to a teen treatment center for what they call an "evaluation". They don't ask your permission; your mother can just sign over all your rights. They also won't give you an idea of when you get to leave said treatment center.

It feels weird being transported in an ambulance. I'm being sloshed around on the bench. There is a metal bar running along the back of the van and, ironically, I hold on for dear life. I'm slightly afraid I am going to fall forward.

Across from me on the other bench is a paramedic. If this were a normal circumstance I would note that he is actually pretty cute, but this isn't a normal circumstance. So I push away the thoughts about how cute his dimples are.

I can feel him looking at me; I decide to go for the jugular, or at least my version of the jugular. I am, after all, sitting in an ambulance on my way to the crazy house. I might as well start acting like I belong there.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing, I was just trying to figure out why you are going to Pleasantwood."

What could I say? I tried to kill myself? That didn't sound crazy enough to go where I am going. I tried to cut the last person who asked too many questions. Now that sounded crazy, and stupid.

I decide at the last moment to say the honest thing. "I tried to kill myself."

The look that appears on his face is so serious I almost want to laugh. He looks like I have physically hurt him, like I was his best friend or maybe even his sister and the news was just broken to him.

He seems genuinely kind, and I felt like comforting him. This conversation is not going as I planned. If I live, how many times will I have to utter those words? How many times will I have to explain? I shudder at the thought.

"Why?" His voice is filled with something I'm not used to – concern and sympathy. For a split second I feel like confessing everything. I feel like talking until everything is out and I have no more secrets. I feel like talking until I am empty, until I have nothing left to say. I feel like telling him the truth about Lilly Barnes.

I could do it. Arlington (the town they are taking me to) isn't far away; I think I could get it all out if I spoke fast.

I stop and think about what it would be like to form the words, I can feel them bouncing around on my cheeks, inside of my damaged mouth. I imagine them leaving my mouth. Where would they go? This is a closed space, no air coming in or out. Would they linger around waiting for someone else to pick them up? I couldn't have that. I kept my mouth shut.

"Because it was the only choice I had left, and I failed." I say in a defeated manner.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"17."

"17? You have your whole life ahead of you," he says.

"And what if I don't want it?"

"You will. Someday you will be grateful that you failed. I promise."

I don't know how the paramedic man could say that with such confidence, he doesn't even know my reasons, he doesn't know my shame.

I assume we have pulled up to Pleasantwood hospital because the van has stopped. I don't know what to do, so I just sit there.

"What is this place like?"

"You're a minor, so it won't be that bad. You will have a lot of therapy; sometimes in a group, sometimes by yourself."

"So it's just a bunch of therapy? Great."

"I mean, it will be helpful to you. You should get a lot from it."

"I doubt it."

"Try to go in with an open mind. This could be life changing," he says with a huge smile, and I am reminded how cute he is. Maybe if things were different. Maybe if I were different. Plus, he doesn't get it. I want a different kind of life changing, and death is about as life changing as a person can get.

When I get out of the van cold air hits me. It's unseasonably cold today. The sky is gray and it looks like a storm is brewing. I open my mouth to let some of the cold air flow to the back of my throat. It helps.

I don't know what I expected the hospital to look like but this isn't it. It looks like a large house instead of a building. It looks almost peaceful. That is until I see bars on the windows.

A plump, pleasant looking woman is at the front desk.

"Johnny," she says a little too happily at paramedic guy. She must have noticed the dimples too.

"Hi, Mary, this is my friend Lilly. I want you to take real good care of her okay?"

"Of course we will."

This is all so strange. They are both acting like I am not being forced to be here, like I am staying at a bed and breakfast or something.

"Follow me please, Lilly."

I follow her through a large wooden door. I take one more look at Johnny. I think of running before all of this can start, but I don't exactly have anywhere to go. I can't go home for sure, I won't ever go home again, that I know. I could go to Buddy's but I don't want to explain things to him or his family.

I should have just gotten Buddy to run with me when I had the chance. If I would have known this was where I would end up, I would have just run.

We step inside a large space with bright lighting. We're in a hallway with curtains hanging on each side. Not curtains you hang in your living room, but the hospital kind. She pulls back one of the curtains and reveals a hospital bed covered with that horrible paper.

"Sit."

Plump Mary has turned into Mean Plump Mary now that Johnny is out of sight. I sit though.

She leaves me there for a moment and comes back with a clip board.

"Is your full name Lilly Bell Barnes?"

"Yes."

"Date of birth?"

"May 1, 1995."

"Do you use alcohol or drugs?"

"No. I mean I have had beer before but it was just once at Willie Petty's end of the year party and I didn't like it and I won't do it again. I mean I won't drink underage again. I'm sure maybe when I am older I will have red wine or something or maybe white wine, but I would have to learn which go with chicken and which go with fish." Jesus, shut up, Lilly.

"Do you have trouble sleeping?"

"Yes." I really do, and I hate it.

"Do you lack energy?"

"Sometimes, I guess. That's normal though, right?" She doesn't answer me and doesn't meet my gaze.

"Did you let anyone know you were suicidal?"

Did I? I haven't thought of that before. Surely someone should have noticed. Or did I keep it under wraps well?

"No, not directly."

"Have you been assaulted in anyway, sexual or otherwise?"

"No."

"That's all for now. There is a paper robe at the end of the bed, please take all of your clothes off and place them in this plastic bag. I will be back in a moment to do the physical examination."

This is a joke right? No one said anything about a physical. I get the feeling she isn't testing for how many consecutive pushups I can do.

I look at the paper robe and plastic bag and I don't think they are props. I don't think this is the kind of place that jokes around either. I take off my pants and shirt and slip on the robe. She comes back into the room.

"Please take off the robe, Miss Barnes."

I take it off.

"I need you to remove your undergarments."

"Do I really have to?" I feel like am pleading at this point.

"Yes, but I promise I won't hurt you. I have to check for physical attributes and any items you may have brought with you to harm yourself."

"But I just have on my bra and underwear, I don't understand."

"Please remove them Miss Barnes." The look on her face tells me she isn't interested in asking again.

So, I remove my bra and underwear, and I am instantly cold. I grab the robe and cover the front of my body.

"Please remove the robe entirely."

Easy for her say, she still has on all her clothes. I feel hands on the back of my calves. I know they are hands but I can't feel her skin, I think she is wearing gloves. Not the winter kind, the kind doctors wear.

"I am noting what appears to be a birthmark on the back of your thigh."

She's right; it is there, sometimes when I wear shorts Buddy jokes with me that I should have bathed better. Last summer we were lying by the town pool and I was sun tanning on my stomach, and Buddy ran his finger around the edge of the mark, tracing it and that had sent shivers through me in every direction.

As she moves from my legs to my torso, she asks me to turn to face her. Her hands move along me searching for what I don't know. I can feel my face heat up and I look down at the ground. She makes me lift my head after a few seconds and has me make that "Ahhhhh" sound while she looks in my mouth.

"I'm all done." She is back to being regular Plump Mary and I would hate to think how she would have treated me if she had found something on me. I decide to take a chance and ask.

"What were you looking for?"

"Marks on your body, I have to note if you are a self-harmer. Also, I was looking for weapons."

"What kind of weapon would I have been able to carry in naked?"

"There are many options, we had to outlaw magazines in the waiting room because a girl took the staples out of the sides of a magazine and hid them in her mouth. She was a self-harmer."

Plump Mary notes this with disgust, and I think it comes from the fact the girl got past her.

I had to give the girl credit for ingenuity though.

Chapter Five – Lilly

We leave the examination room and walk down a long hallway. My initial impression that this was just a large house wasn't really correct, at least not on the inside. We pass several doors all of which are closed. We pass what looks like a living room. It has two couches and a TV that is blaring a commercial about acne medication.

I don't see another person. When we arrive at the room I have been assigned the door has two names on it; they are Headley and Barnes. If the hospital, the ambulance ride, and the naked examination didn't make this real, seeing my name in print in this place does it for me.

The walls are a light grey and it looks like sunlight hasn't hit this room since the walls were first put up. There are two beds; one has clothes folded on top of it and pictures hang on the wall over it. I do not plan on staying long enough to put up pictures. I have nothing in my area except the bed. No dresser or lamp, this is about as bare as it could possible get. I uncomfortably sit down on the edge of the bed.

"Dinner is about to end and the kitchen is closing, that doesn't matter though because I see here you are on liquids." She flips through a few pieces of paper on a clipboard to confirm. "You should get off of liquids in the next day or so after the doctor checks you out. The first wakeup call will be promptly at 7:00am, second wakeup call is at 7:10am, if you choose to not rise in a timely manner you will be bumped down to yellow. You are currently already on yellow."

"Yellow?" I ask.

"The color coding system will be explained to you in orientation at 7:15am. Here is your schedule. Rarely do things change. It is imperative that you follow the schedule accurately. Your roommate is at dinner but she should be back in a few minutes. It is lights out at 9:00pm, and bed checks every 45 minutes."

"Bed checks?" I ask.

"Meaning we check to make sure you are in your bed," she replies. She says it matter of fact, but it still throws me.

"You're going to wake me up every 45 minutes all night?"

"At first it will wake you up mostly because we turn on the light, but you will get used to it after a while and then it won't bother you."

I don't want to get used to anything in this place. I don't exactly want to go home, but I don't want to be here either.

The door loudly opens and a girl walks through. She is tall and thin. Ballerina thin. She is stunningly beautiful. I want to look away for fear of being a bit creepy but I can't help staring. She has these bright blue eyes that don't seem real and beautiful long blonde hair. Her hair reaches all the way down her back. She walks gracefully to me.

"You must be Barnes."

Her voice isn't what I was expecting at all, based on her appearance. I thought it would be girlish and mousey; instead, it is deep and gravely, almost mannish.

"You must be Headley."

She stares at me for a beat, and I stare back. I feel like this is jail and I have to make my mark, take a stance, or I could spend my time here fetching her magazines without staples.

Headley blinks first and then smiles. She throws herself on her bed, lying on her back. She takes a ball and starts throwing it on the ceiling, catching it and throwing it again. I sit still on the edge of my bed, not sure what to make of this transgression.

"Did you just get here?"

I let out the breath I was holding. I guess the standoff is over.

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago."

"Did they give you dinner?"

"No, they said dining time was over."

"So they just let you go to bed without dinner?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But, I'm on strict liquids so I guess it really doesn't matter." I say.

"What are you in here for?"

I have to think how to answer the question. This answer may define how I am treated while in here. I don't think I can lie. I'm sure I would get called out at some point.

"I tried to kill myself."

"Damn, that's hardcore."

Is it hardcore? Would this give me brownie points in here? I really don't know what to expect from this place. I never thought about being here. I never thought that I would fail; suicide seemed so foolproof.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm not a fan of the whole eating thing."

That explains the ballerina look.

"Are you anorexic?" I ask.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because of what you just told me," I say slowing. There is something off with this girl; maybe the lack of calories has gone to her head.

"When you first saw me, what did you think? Did you think I was fat? These people keep making me eat ridiculous amounts of food."

I feel like if I say the wrong thing she could go off of the deep end.

"No, I did not think you were fat at all. I thought you were much skinnier than me."

"Oh, thank God."

This girl is crazy, and did she just call me fat?

"Killing yourself is pretty serious."

"And starving yourself isn't?"

"Touché," she says with a laugh. "Chill out, Barnes, relax."

That's exactly what I plan on doing. I have no other clothes to change into so I lay under the thin sheet on the bed. The pillow is just as thin. I see this being a long night.

I hear rustling on the other side of the room and see my roommate walking toward me. She lays a bright pink blanket on top of me and puts equally pink socks on my chest.

"These are the standard blankets and clothes, but your parents are supposed to bring you the good stuff. My mom brings lots of extras so you can borrow some."

"Thank you." I push the blanket off to put the socks on, my feet are freezing and I say so.

"It's really cold in here so we will keep calm."

That makes sense; I don't feel like doing anything but getting back under the blankets.

"Look, Barnes, it seems like you're not a big talker, and that's cool, but if you ever want to get out of here you have to talk. You talk, you get released. This is my third time in here and every time I pretend to put up a fight, then after a few days I start talking and they let me out. It's a game. They're idiots here. No one here has to really get better; you just have to make them think you are. It's called fake it till you make it."

I don't know what to say to this revelation.

"So you don't think you'll ever get better?" I ask.

"No, I don't think so. I'll probably die from this eventually, just hopefully not before I get a little modeling done. I'm at least six pounds away from getting scouted."

I've never heard anyone speak about dying out loud. I think about it all the time in my head and I know I will continue to do so, but I've never heard it talked about so frankly.

And I like her better for it.

"So talking will get me out of here?"

"Yep, that's the key."

Maybe it would be nice to tell someone. Maybe it would be nice to get it out in the open. Because even though I am not dead, it is slowing killing me.

Chapter Six – Buddy

When I found out about Lilly, I handled myself better than I thought I would. I mean, better than I thought I would if I had ever thought about Lilly committing suicide. I never thought about it, not even for a second. I know things aren't great with her mom, but we are graduating soon and I thought we would leave and figure things out together.

There are things that I have seen, things that I thought I knew, but maybe I was wrong. If I am wrong, things are much worse than I thought they were.

I didn't see Lilly all morning, which wasn't normal. We needed to touch base at least once before lunch. We both need a simple reminder that there is another normal person in this stupid town. I looked all around for her at lunch and she wasn't in the cafeteria. I looked in the library, where she sometimes spends lunch, and she wasn't there. I went to the biology lab, her class after lunch, but she wasn't in there. I went to history, her class before lunch, and she wasn't in there either. Her teacher said she hadn't shown up. I called her cell and she didn't answer.

This is when I started to panic. Don't get me wrong, she has missed school before. It's just that she usually takes me with her.

Bayberry is so small it only takes me a few minutes to get to Lilly's house. I knock on the door and Julie, Lilly's mom answers.

"Where's Lilly?" There is no time for pleasantries. I can feel it in my stomach that something is wrong.

"She's in the hospital."

I knew it. I turn away from Julie without another word and run to my car. I have to see her.

It's only when I am driving that I realize Julie didn't even stay at the hospital with Lilly. Mother of the year I tell you. I drive fast because I am worried she has been left alone.

Different scenarios run through my mind. Could she have gotten into an accident? Maybe she fell? The possibilities are endless. All I know is that she has to be okay. She just has to.

Bayberry doesn't actually have a hospital. Why would they? I take a chance that they drove her to Reno, no, not the fun Reno with the slot machines, the Reno in Texas that has as many churches as cows.

It wasn't hard to find her. What I wasn't expecting was why she was in the hospital in the first place. There wasn't an accident. She didn't fall. The hurt she is feeling was caused by her own hands. I sit in a chair beside her bed. She is asleep. The nurse informs me that Lilly has been sedated. She told me Lilly had her stomach pumped and sometimes that can be tiresome. What the nurse doesn't know, and I guess what I didn't even know, was that Lilly was tired already - tired of living.

I can't believe I let this happen. This is my fault; I was supposed to protect her. Watching her chest rise and fall as she sleeps breaks my heart. I should have been there for her. Now that we are here together things fall into place. I guess that is why they say hindsight is 20/20. I never knew what that meant until now.

I think about fall last year, when everyone else was turning in college applications, and Lilly refused to fill out any. She wouldn't tell me why, and I honestly chalked it up to lack of money. I thought maybe she would get a local job and go to a community college nearby. Every time I tried to bring it up, I got shot down. I secretly went forward and applied to a few schools. Lilly and I both have good grades, and I got into a lot of really great schools. I haven't accepted any of the offers because I was waiting for her, waiting to see what she was going to do. I never even had an inkling that this is what she was planning.

I knew the minute I met Lilly in Kindergarten she needed protection. She had no brothers, which I couldn't really understand. I have three, which was more than enough. I didn't know anyone who didn't have any brothers or sisters. Even at five, I knew she had to be lonely. Then I found out she didn't have a dad either. Somehow I knew that meant she needed a boy in her life to protect her. So, from that moment on I fought off boys who pushed her into the dirt. I even hit May Daily for calling Lilly names, (not my best moment), and May still glares at me in the hallways, but, Lilly wasn't doing anything to stop her. What I didn't know about Lilly then was that she has a huge heart and forgives everyone almost instantly. She had already forgiven May Daily and didn't need me to butt in.

Anytime someone has wronged her, she takes it that she was there to witness their worst moment. She accepts apologies willingly and, if they aren't offered up, she gives them leeway anyway. What I didn't know about Lilly in Kindergarten is that she is a freaking saint.

So my question to the world is - why her? Why did she get stuck in this situation? Stuck with these emotions? If Karma exists, it needs to stand in the unemployment line because it is not doing its job.

Chapter Seven – Lilly

The nurse was right about the night checks; they did wake me up every time. I feel like I didn't sleep at all last night. Long before the official wakeup call; I am wide awake. At the bottom of my bed (I hate that I am already claiming this bed as mine) I find a small stack of clothes with a note. The note says that my parents didn't drop off any clothes, so I can borrow these clean ones from the lost and found.

I should be upset that no one came for me, but I'm not. It doesn't even bother me; in fact, I am slightly grateful. I can't handle the conversation that has to take place.

I grab a top and bottom article of clothing and take it to the small bathroom we have in our room. Headley is still asleep, so I jump in the shower first. My mouth and throat still hurt, and I am starting to cough up this gritty black substance. I think it's what they pumped into my stomach. I think it's peculiar that I can't remember all of the night's events. I remember falling asleep and I remember waking up in the hospital. Everything in between is a blur. Maybe it's for the best. They told me that they put a tube down my throat to my stomach. Then they pumped something they called "charcoal shake" into me. I am so thankful I can't remember. I guess life does have its little blessings. I barely even like thinking about it, and the thought of a shake made of charcoal makes me want to gag.

I get out of the shower. It's only when I'm out that I notice something funny about this bathroom. There's no mirror anywhere in our room. I am not a vain person, in fact nine times out of ten I would rather not see myself; but I am curious how all of this has all taken a toll on my face.

I get out of the shower and Headley is already getting dressed.

"Don't forget to make your bed; they get upset if you don't."

"Okay, hey, there isn't a mirror in our bathroom."

"Crazy right? They don't want us harming ourselves with the glass. It drives me crazy, but I snuck one in this time. Actually, my mom snuck it in."

She reaches under her mattress and hands me a small compact. I almost wish I hadn't brought it up. There are green bags under my eyes, and my face looks more pale than usual. I hand back the mirror in dismay.

"Barnes?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yeah, and I miss him. I have to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Does he know you're here?"

"Yeah, he's happy I'm here. My issues are really our only problem in our relationship. He wants me to get better, and I just want to look perfect."

I stay quiet, because I'm not sure what to say. I just smile back at her like an idiot.

"Barnes?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you try to kill yourself?"

"Because life hurts too much."

****

I make it to the dining hall by following Headley. I would be lost without her. As soon as I get to the hall, a woman turns me away and tells me I'm still on yellow. I have no idea what that means, but she won't let me into the dining hall, so I make my way back to my room and sit down on my bed.

A woman calling named Mrs. Dixie comes in and tells me that I am currently on yellow and if today goes well I can be moved to green tomorrow. Green means I get to eat meals with the other girls and have activity time. Yellow means I have to stay on this floor and eat by myself. I like yellow better but I keep that bit to myself. She informs me that there is also a red level and from her description, it makes me think that the room is covered in padding. She mentions restraints. I'm shooting for yellow during my stay here.

I still don't get to eat, so she brings me two cups of the slightly frozen grape juice that I am currently in love with. It feels comforting to me, the coldness on my throat, and I don't even want real food. Sad how something so small makes me so happy.

I sit down on a yellow plastic chair. It is similar to the ones we had in elementary school. I look up and down the hall, but it is empty. I notice on the top of the walls a yellow strip of paint running the length of the floor. It all seems a little redundant, but maybe they didn't want any excuses about being on the wrong level by accident.

I hear the double doors at the end of the hall open and look up. Headley is coming my way. I notice she doesn't have on shoes, only socks; then, I put it together. We could harm ourselves with shoe laces, so they aren't allowed.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I forgot you were on yellow, so I came to join you."

"But, isn't that a bump down from the green level?"

"Yeah, but yellow is better. We don't have to do the activities."

"How did you get bumped down?"

"I refused to eat," she says.

"Did you do that because you didn't want to eat, or because you wanted to be with me?" I ask laughing.

"The world may never know," she says smiling.

Headley being here is just as comforting to me as the grape juice. Funny, how I never knew her before yesterday, and now she is my lifeline. I know our friendship would never work outside of these walls, but I don't mind. I'm glad she's sitting here with me now.

"I have to get out of here soon," she says. "There is a photo-shoot audition for the Connie's ice cream."

I don't know what Connie's ice cream is and she can tell from my expression.

"It's a local ice cream shop, which is taking out an ad in our paper. Before I came, I saw a flier saying they need a model for their ad. The owner has a really ugly daughter, so I guess he isn't using her for the shoot, not that I blame him."

It is not lost on me that Headley wants to leave a treatment center (where she is being looked after for an eating disorder) to leave for an ice cream ad. I decide to keep my observation to myself. I don't want to lose my new friend.

"I've been practicing my look, but I don't know if I have it right yet. Can I show you?"

I say "of course", because I have no idea what she is talking about.

In her hands is a cup full of clear liquid.

"What is that?"

"Pedialyte. It's so I can get all the nutrients I need but I don't have to eat."

"And they trust you to drink it on your own?" I ask sarcastically.

"If you look, there are no trash cans any place other than cafeteria. They don't trust us to throw anything away, especially around pill time."

"Pill time?"

"Whenever you get assigned to a therapist, they will determine if you need to be on any kind of medication. Then, after breakfast, we all stand in line and take whatever pill is prescribed to us."

"You can't be serious."

"It's true."

"What if you don't want to take anything?"

"I think whenever your parents signed you up for this place they agreed to let them treat you as they see fit. I am only saying this because I have dealt with this bullshit before." She takes a huge gulp of the drink, and then crushes the plastic cup by slamming it down on the table.

"We have no rights here. But, if you can get help I hope that you try."

"Are you trying?" I ask.

"Sometimes," she replies. The expression on her face is sad, and I want to hug her. I feel bad for her.

"Headley, do you remember when you asked me what I thought of you when I first saw you?"

She sits up excitedly in her seat. "Yeah?"

"I thought you were incredibly beautiful, intimidatingly beautiful. I actually thought you looked like a ballerina. And, don't be mad at me, but I thought you were too thin. You're already so thin, Headley. I know I don't know you that well and I should keep my thoughts to myself, but I just wanted to say be careful. I don't want to see you hurt."

Headley smiles and nods at me giving my hand a small squeeze. I think she has heard this speech before. I hope someone gets through to her. I ask about the ice cream ad to break up the awkwardness.

"Right, okay." She stands up and leans back against the hallway wall. She holds up her hand and makes a fist, and then she straightens her thumb so it sticks out.

"This is an ice cream cone." She says holding up her hand grinning. "Every three seconds or so I want you to say click or make a clicking noise. Okay?"

"Alright."

Awkwardly I say "click" count to three in my head and say "click" again. It's like she transforms in front of me. Even in a treatment center hallway, wearing a loose shirt and with bags under her eyes, she is beautiful. Each time I say "click" she moves positions. Sometimes she holds the ice cream cone to her face smiling; sometimes she looks down at it, sometimes she pretends to eat it. She moves fluidly though, and I have no idea how she does it. I know I would just stand there gawking at the camera. I forget to say "click" and she stops moving.

"What did you think?"

"I think you are amazing."

She smiles at me, a genuine smile; it reaches all the way to the corners of her eyes.

At that moment Mrs. Dixie comes through the double doors and walks straight to the area we are standing.

"Anna Headley, I am disappointed in you, I thought you were doing so much better," she says as she reaches us.

"Well, Dixie," replies Headley, "I'm disappointed that I've disappointed you."

Mrs. Dixie shakes her head, and it's clear she is holding back a grin. She looks at Headley, then me, and I think Headley's plot becomes clear. She takes away both of our "breakfasts" and reminds us that school starts in a few minutes. I reassure Headley that she is amazing, because she really is. It makes it all the more sad to know that she is ruining herself.

School is a neutral level, meaning it doesn't matter if you are green, yellow, or red, everyone has to go, and, as it turns out, school isn't really anything to write home about. Teachers send patients their coursework, and we sit in a room quietly working. A tutor who can help with any questions we may have hands me a file with my name on it.

"They didn't give you very much work, so let me know if you need something else to do, and I can provide you with work."

I open the file and find my class schedule with initials by each of my teachers names. When I go through the paperwork, I am filled with anger. I should laugh, I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. The people in Bayberry are astounding.

The first note says that it's shocking that I would do that to myself and that my mother must be beside herself. She lets me know she took over a hot dish to help her. No homework was given, just the note. Fantastic.

The second note says that they have waived the homework, and I can do it when I return. That kind of defeats the whole purpose of me sitting in this room every day, but okay.

The third note is a Bible scripture about how God heals all. It's funny how Texas doesn't listen to the rules about bringing up God in school. You should see a high school game on Friday night.

The fourth note talks of a casserole that was given by my teacher to my mother. No homework attached.

The fifth note, from my American History II class, is attached to a map of the United States. The directions are to fill in each state with a different color. But, if I don't have that many colors, then I can color it however I see fit. Apparently my trip to Pleasantwood has harmed my mental capacity.

The sixth note isn't a note at all but a Get Well Soon card signed by my teacher and her pastor. Apparently, I am to be reminded that God loves me.

The seventh note is another notice of a hot dish delivered to my mom. This time she received an apple pie.

The eighth note is from Spanish class. Finally, there is no notice of food or get well cheer, it is full blown homework. Word conjugation, punctuation, and more history on Spain, the country we are studying. I have never been so happy to see homework in my life.

I dive in straight away but am interrupted when I hear my name being called. I am asked to pick up all of my belongings and to follow a girl who doesn't look much older than I am. She is wearing a name tag that says "Lucy" and underneath that it says "volunteer". Why the hell would anyone want to be here on purpose?

Chapter Eight – Lilly

Lucy takes me through a few double doors to an area I don't think I have ever been. She knocks on a wooden door and someone ushers us in.

The doctor from the hospital is sitting behind a large desk. She does that halfway standing up thing and motions for me to sit down in the chair in front of her. I sit. I turn around and Lucy the volunteer is gone. I turn my attention back to the doctor who is staring at me and smiling.

I don't feel like I am in a therapist's office. I don't see a couch like I imagined there would be. It really feels like I am in the principal's office.

"Looking for the couch?"

"Actually, yes," I say, laughing uneasily.

"Everyone does that. I like to have more of a friendly feel for my office, so I went with the chair. Tell me, Lilly, do you remember me?"

"Yes, you interviewed me at the hospital. I'm guessing I failed because I am here."

"Those questions weren't pass or fail. They were to make sure you need the help that I believe I can provide to you." She pauses after she says this, and I think this is the kind of situation where I am supposed to do most of the talking.

"So you determined I should be here?"

"That's correct," there's more pausing from her.

"I don't want to be on any medication," I blurt out.

"Why is that?" She asks with her brow furrowed.

"My mom sort of does drugs and drinks, and I don't want anything to do with any of that stuff."

"First, you cannot 'sort of' do drugs. You either abuse narcotics or you don't. Secondly, if I were to prescribe you something, it would be very different from narcotics that people abuse."

"I understand. But, I still don't want to take anything."

"What if it were to help with your depression?"

"I'm not depressed."

She stares at me for a beat. "What makes you think you aren't depressed?"

"It was planned. I don't mope around. I'm not sad. I just didn't want to live anymore. It was my choice. I chose the path, how I wanted it done and when."

"Depression comes in all forms," she replies.

I don't answer because I am not sure what to say.

"What do you see when you look around you? How do you feel about your surroundings?" The question throws me and I can't figure out what her angle is.

"I feel suffocated by the town. I never felt like I belonged. I have always known I don't want to be a townie."

"Can you think of anything else?"

"Honestly? You won't judge anything I say in here? I am worried I'll say the wrong thing and you'll prescribe things I don't feel comfortable taking."

"There is no judgment here. I promise. I won't prescribe anything unless it is a last resort. People who are taking medication really need it. I don't prescribe haphazardly. Why don't we try talking things through first? I've always been a fan of verbal therapy anyway," she says smiling.

"Okay. I don't know where to start though."

"Why don't you tell me again what you see when you look around you, but this time be more specific."

I pause and take a deep breath. There is no going back. If I start I don't know that I can stop. Could I really say it all? Could I really just open up, own up to everything? I start with the basics. I haven't rehearsed. I have no clue what I am going to say. I should have thought of what to say beforehand. "All the color is gone. Does that make sense? Have you ever looked at something and just seen black and white? Do you know what that's like? I look for color around me all the time, but it's rare to find it."

"How does that make you feel?"

I couldn't believe she really asked that. I thought it was only in the movies.

"It makes me feel lonely. It makes me feel sad. Not depressed though, just sad." I need that to be clear.

"I could imagine. When do see color?"

I don't have to think about my answer, it comes naturally.

"I see color when I'm with my friend, Buddy. I'm not making that up; it's his real name. If you look at him, his name should be Josh or maybe Justin, but not Buddy. He wanted to change it, but I sort of love it. His parents are country. Like really country. Normally in this town I take that as a bad thing, but they are good people."

"What makes them 'country' as you call it?"

"I mean they have their own chickens that they get their eggs from. They have a pet pig. They have horses."

"What makes them good people?"

"They are incredibly kind. I can't stress that enough. I've never met kinder people."

"Go on." I notice that she just barely has to prompt me and I answer all of her questions.

"Buddy has three brothers and they all fit in but he doesn't. I mean, he looks like them, sort of. They all have this really adorable red hair, but he is smaller than his brothers, and smarter I think. His brothers' names are Jed, Judd, and Bo. They all work on a farm. Buddy does too, but he is the only one that hates it. Like his brothers are excited to get up in the morning, but Buddy just does it to help his parents financially. His parents are simple people. They live simply. They love him simply. I have always been jealous. But, they always take me in."

"Take you in how?"

"In so many ways. I don't even know if I could explain it."

"Try, give me one example."

I smile thinking about my options. "Buddy's mom makes him lunch every day for school, and she makes me one too."

"That sounds nice."

"It's not just that. She makes them all ham and cheese sandwiches, but I prefer peanut butter and jelly, so she makes me that instead. Sometimes I just can't wrap my head around the fact that when she is at the grocery store she picks up something specifically for me and I'm not even hers. She's been doing this since the first grade; she's been feeding me for years."

"Does your mother not do that?"

"No."

"Why do you think she doesn't make your lunch?"

"Because she either is hungover or just doesn't care enough."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

"We will have several family sessions before I can release you, so eventually you will have to discuss your own home."

"Okay, but not today?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"I don't."

"So what specifically is your relationship with Buddy?"

"He is my best friend."

"Nothing more?"

"That seems like a lot to me."

Dr. Marks laughs, and I notice slight wrinkles around her eyes. I wonder if she is someone's mother. I can imagine her being a good mom. Maybe her kid comes home with problems and she fixes them with whatever sage advice she has in her back pocket.

"The relationship isn't more than friendship."

"No?"

"No." I reply without hesitation.

"I just had to find out first. Buddy has been here in the admissions office all morning. He told us that he was your brother, but our records indicate that you are an only child."

I laugh. He didn't have a very good plan.

"Under normal circumstances I would prohibit you from seeing a non-family member, but I think he might be important to your recovery. I will interview him today and make my final decision. If I agree to visitation, you can see him once you are on the green level."

"And that could be as early as tomorrow?"

"Correct," she says. "Also, I would like you to meet with me tomorrow.

"Am I meeting with you every day while I'm here?" I ask, a little worried of her answer.

"Would you like to tell me why you tried to kill yourself, Lilly?"

"No." I reply.

"Then I would like you to come in tomorrow. I want you to think about talking more about your decision, and I want you to focus more on talking about yourself."

"I thought I was talking about myself," I say confused.

"No, you spoke about the history of another family. You didn't say anything about yourself."

I guess she doesn't get it. When I talk about them, I am talking about myself.

Chapter Nine – Buddy

I've been sitting in this damn office all day. They didn't buy that I am her brother, and I'm pretty sure they think I am her boyfriend. Not that I would object to that.

They searched me once, so I thought they would let me see her after that but they didn't. A woman just came in and told me Lilly is on the yellow zone, whatever the hell that means. I don't care about their rules. Don't they know how important this is?

An older woman comes through the door and sits down in front of me.

"You must be Buddy."

She looks like she has authority, so I decide to play nice for Lilly's sake.

"Yes, I'm Buddy Myers." I lean in to shake her hand.

"My name is Dr. Marks, and I am Lilly's doctor."

"It's nice to meet you."

"Tell me, why do you want to visit Lilly?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No, I would like an honest answer."

"I want to see her because I need to see if she is okay."

She pauses for a moment. I guess she decides that this isn't a lie because she moves on.

"Do you know any reason why Lilly would try to harm herself?"

I could tell the truth, or better yet what I perceive to be the truth. I know what I believe. It's just a matter if I am right or not. I hope more than anything I am wrong.

"No."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

Damn, I must have paused too long before answering. "Yes," I say more quickly this time.

"I think it would do Lilly some good for you to visit, she should start receiving visits tomorrow. Visiting hours are from 12 PM – 2 PM, but each patient may only visit for one hour. You may bring the patient items to make her stay more comfortable, but please be advised that all items will be searched thoroughly before given to the patient."

I wish she would quit saying "the patient" I want her to call Lilly by her name so I know that she is important to her.

"What kind of stuff can I bring? Or do you know if she needs anything?"

"I think she is currently wearing items borrowed from the lost and found and I do not believe her parents have brought anything here. I have heard the blankets are thin and some patients receive these types of items from family."

"They haven't visited her yet?"

"Lilly is prohibited from receiving visitors, but I do not believe an attempt has been made. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other patients to attend to."

I sit there for a moment taking it all in. I still can't believe Lilly is in a place like this. I can't believe I almost lost her. I hate to think of Lilly in this place. Her skin is too soft, and she is too fragile. You have to be careful with her. I know she looks tough on the outside, but I know her, and in many ways, she is like a turtle without a shell. She puts on a good front, obviously, since I didn't see this coming and I know her better than anyone else.

I honestly think people's personal business travels in the wind in Bayberry because, by the time I get home, my mom is pacing the floors. Pacing is a last resort. Her first attempt at stress relief is baking.

Every countertop and table in the kitchen is covered with cooling cookies, cakes, and pies.

"What did you find out?" she asks directly. I love that we can skip over all the initial conversation; she already knows that I have been trying to get information about her.

"Supposedly she is doing fine, and we can go see her tomorrow."

"I'll pack up some of these cookies for her."

My parents are wonderful people, and I love them more than anything, but, we don't have a whole lot of money to spare. My dad works hard. He works at Million Man Oil, the refinery here in Bayberry, but we still struggle to make ends meet. The truth is that they had too many children and when I leave it will relieve some of the pressure on them financially.

I have to choose my words carefully, because I don't want to hurt my parents monetarily any more than I do already.

"I'll see if they will let her have them. Mom, I talked to a doctor there, and she said that Mrs. Barnes hasn't been by to see Lilly. She said that Lilly needs clothes and blankets."

My mom's face flushes red. She turns around and retrieves a spatula. She grabs a few of those really big Ziploc baggies and starts shuffling cookies into one. You can always tell if baking helped calm her nerves by how she displays the goods. If she is at peace, the items will be displayed on these silver platters my grandmother left her, but if she is still distraught it's Ziploc baggies all the way.

I know there is nothing left to do until she has cooled down. She needs to be alone so I go to my room, but I'm not in there too long before I hear my mom calling me into the living room. She has a stack of jeans, t-shirts, blankets and pillows.

"What is this?"

"It's the things I want Lilly to have."

I reach down and pick up the top pair of jeans. They look small.

"Where did you get these things?"

"They're mine." she says. I raise my eyebrows without thinking, "Before I had children," she says disgruntled.

I open up the jeans more. They have six buttons instead of the one button at the top like jeans have now. These have to be from the 70's or 80's. I feel bad that these are what Lilly will be wearing, but I don't dare say it out loud. Instead, I pick up the first blanket in the stack. This one was mine when I was a kid. It's my old Mighty Mouse blanket, and Lilly and I used to fight over who got to use it. This was back when Lilly and I used to fight (play fight like children do), and I didn't really care that she was girl.

I won't fight her this time; she can have it.

I set the blanket down and reach for my mom. We embrace each other in a tight hug. She whispers in my ear that everything is going to be okay, and for the first time since I heard about Lilly, I let my guard down. I start to tear up. I can't believe we almost lost her.

"We're going to get her back." she says. I know my mom. I know the determination I see in her eyes, so I know that what she is saying is true. We will get Lilly back.

Chapter Ten – Lilly

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful. I'm not allowed to join in any of the group activities yet because I'm not on green. I don't mind though because they let me go to my room for what they call 'reflection time'. I don't reflect though. I sleep. I'm tired. Physically and emotionally, every part of me is just plain tired.

When I wake up, it's dark and I wonder how much time has passed. This doesn't feel like I am in treatment; it feels like I am in jail. I hope these people know what they are doing. I don't have the urge to kill myself. In fact, my brain feels pretty empty. If I start to think about events, I don't know what will happen. I focus on thinking happy thoughts. When I was small and my dad was still around and my mom didn't drink. We took a day trip to Fort Worth once and we went to the zoo. I remember my dad lifting me onto his shoulders and I thought that I was as tall as the giraffes. My mom mimicked the monkeys, and I couldn't stop laughing. We sat down and ate food at the park, and I threw my chips at the pigeons while they chased me. I couldn't have been any older than four, but I swear I remember everything about that day. I even remember falling asleep in the backseat and being exceedingly happy. It's one of my first memories and it's a good one.

Then my dad left and my mom wouldn't talk about it. When I was younger, I thought it was my fault, but I don't think that anymore; it had to be hers. I miss him but something tells me he isn't coming back. If I ever see him again I'm going to ask why he didn't take me with him. I don't care that he isn't here anymore, I just care that he left me here with her.

Then my mom married Donnie, who is way too young for her, and who got her to start drinking and doing drugs. Donnie tells her that she is old and that he will leave her like my dad did. I wish he would, because I know somewhere in her is that woman who acted like a monkey, and I want her back more than anything.

Headley comes rushing back into the door. She's so fast that she slides in her socks across the floor.

"I did it!" she exclaims.

"Did what?"

"I got my mom to agree to check me out for the Connie's audition." She can barely catch her breath. For someone so thin, she seems to be out of shape.

"How did you manage that?"

"I think it's called AWOL or some crap. It's when a parent checks you out without the doctor's permission. Anyway, I passed my weigh in and that was my agreement with my parents."

"Did they make you gain weight?"

"Yeah, three pounds."

"Wow, that's amazing Headley. Good job!"

"Please, I didn't really gain the weight."

"I don't understand," I say confused.

She takes off her sweater and is standing with just a sports bra. I can count her ribs from my side of the room. She pulls something out of her bra and walks across the room to hand it to me. It's a roll of quarters, the kind that you get at the bank. She keeps pulling them out of her bra. There are four in total. She inches her pants off of her boney waist and reaches down and pulls out an additional three rolls.

"These get me about a pound and a half."

"Where did you get these?" I ask.

"That's the beauty of the plan. My parents are divorced, so they don't talk to each other."

"I still don't understand."

"Basically, I am a freaking genius. I tell them both at separate times that I am really committed to the program this time, blah, blah, blah, and that there is a vending machine on our floor and I wanted to get a couple snacks. I tell them that I would really rather have quarters instead of dollars so I can share with my roommate."

"But you didn't have a roommate before I came, and I haven't seen a vending machine," I point out.

"They don't know that. Anyway, so I tell them that I want these quarters for the vending machine, and they give them to me because they are happy I want to eat. Each time they come, I make sure they bring more quarters, and they do because they are proud I am making such progress. So I wear a bra that is too big and I stuff them in there and in my underwear. Don't look at me like that Barnes. This really is a science."

I try to readjust my face. I guess she didn't take what I said seriously. I wish I could help her, but I don't know what to do.

"Those quarters give you three pounds? That's crazy."

"No, the quarters give me a little over a pound. I drink a ton of water right before I weigh in, like so much that I am drowning in it. Then that leaves about a pound, which I really do gain because treatment makes me fat."

I don't know what to say. I feel so sorry for her. There is a difference between us. I wanted to harm myself but I didn't want to live anymore. It's completely different when you want to harm yourself but you still want to keep living. I don't know what it's called but it seems much worse than what I am doing. I don't see the point. I decide to go to the less confrontational route though.

"I can't believe it worked. So tomorrow then?"

"Of course it worked. We are surrounded by idiots. I leave first thing in the morning! Now, I really have to go pee again."

I hope she is going to be okay. I would hate for her to lose her life over this. I try to recall everything I can remember reading about the disease in health class, and I don't remember a lot of good coming out of it. It just seems like such a waste. She seems like an amazing person.

I get served another two grape juices and this time two pieces of buttered toast are added to a plate. Earlier, they took blood from me and a woman looked all around my throat. I guess I must have passed the physical because I am told that if I can get this down without too much pain, then I can join the others in the dining hall.

Part of me wants to pretend that I can't handle it because I don't know what to expect from the rest of the people here. I've been in treatment for almost two days now, but I really haven't been integrated into it yet. So far it's just been me with Headley, one meeting with Dr. Marks, and some sleep. I'm a little bit scared to be honest.

The night checks don't bother me as much as I thought they would. I'm used to being awake at night, so I never get a full night's rest.

The first thing I find out in the morning is that I am on the green level. I also find out that Headley is being checked out right away. This sucks more than I thought it would. I never thought I would make a friend in this place, but I really think that I have.

She hugs me, an embrace I wasn't expecting. She tells me to get better soon. I whisper that I hope she gets better too. I have a moment when I want to shout for them to weigh her again. I don't want to be by myself, and I don't think she is leaving any better. She needs to be here more than I do but, something tells me that Headley would be prepared, and she is exactly three pounds heavier than when she walked through the doors at Pleasantwood. An orderly is watching us, so I give her another hug and tell her that I am glad she is better and we make promises to keep in touch. I doubt we will keep it up, but the sentiment is nice.

Chapter Eleven – Lilly

I'm not expecting the rush of hunger that comes over me when I walk into the dining hall. Even though it's called the dining hall (which sounds fancier than it really is) it actually looks like the cafeteria at our high school. You even go through the same type of line. I don't know what to choose and end up getting a little bit of everything. I have a plate with a sandwich, French fries, and some sort of pasta dish. I imagine that Headley would die of a heart attack if she had to eat all of this.

The similarities to high school continue when I make my way to a table. You can see little groups of people. I can point out what clique they would be in if this was high school. I see the preps, jocks, and brains at their assorted tables. I see a few goth girls who I already know wouldn't accept me. I choose to sit by myself.

After lunch, everyone gathers in the common area. Most people start forming a line, so I do too because, without Headley, I'm not sure what I am supposed to do. The line is quick, and I'm at the front before I know it.

"Name?"

"Lilly Barnes."

She scrolls through the names and flips to a second page.

"You're not on the list, please step out of line." I'm sure I have been left off of many lists in my time, but I don't even know what I am missing out on.

"Excuse me, what is the list for?"

"You don't know why you are standing here?"

"No," I reply cautiously.

"Please step aside, Miss."

I quickly step aside because I don't want to be told twice. I watch the girl behind me get handed a small paper cup and an even smaller cup after that. She drops the contents of the smaller cup into her mouth then drinks from the cup. Medicine. She's taking medicine, and I'm not on the list. A smile reaches my lips before I can stop it. Dr. Marks kept her word. I feel a slight twinge of hope; maybe I can actually trust her with my secrets. Maybe everything will be okay with her help. As quickly as it comes to me, I push the notion away. I don't dare let myself hope for the best.

It is now noon which, on the green level, means visitors. My name is called with the other girls to go to the visiting room.

As it turns out, the visiting room is actually just the dining hall. I pick the same seat that I sat in for lunch.

I really can't handle seeing my mom right now, and if she brings Donnie, I might flip out. I lay my head on the table in the hopes of them not discovering me. I almost get away with it until I hear my name called, but it's not my mom's voice, it's a much better voice. A voice I can trust, a voice I love hearing, especially now.

"Buddy!" I abandon all pretenses and run to embrace him in a hug. We stay like that for a moment and tears stream down my face without my permission. I pull back to get a better look at him. Just seeing him makes me happier.

"I can't believe they let you through."

"Me either, I wasn't sure they would until I talked to Dr. Marks. Lilly, what the hell? I am so mad at you! What were you thinking?"

I have a million things I could say, books I could fill. And if anyone, I mean anyone, on this planet would understand it would be Buddy, but, I am a selfish being and say, "I don't want to talk about it."

He pauses for a moment and I think he might badger me for more information, but since he is my friend and we love each other, he doesn't hassle me. And I am grateful for that. I am grateful for his being here.

He tells me about how his mom made me cookies and gave me clothes. He is worried that I will not like them, but I reassure him that isn't possible because right now they are the only thing I own.

When he tells me about the Mighty Mouse blanket, tears come to my eyes and I don't try to brush them away. I let them fall pathetically. This is the first time I have cried, and it's because it's the first time I have been home since this whole ordeal.

Buddy laughs when I tell him about my homework assignments and promises to bring me real work. We only have a short time till graduation, so I don't want to fail on a technicality.

"Lilly, we need to talk. We need to talk about what I saw. I'm confused."

"I don't want to talk about it," I say.

"You aren't going to get away with that. It's there, out in the open so, we have to talk. You can't keep this inside. Look at what it's done to you. Look at where it's gotten you."

He never talks to me like this. I thought he would leave me alone. He should know better. I'm mad at him for bringing it up.

"I was thinking about us the other night," I say.

"Us? What were you thinking?"

"I was remembering when we used to go camping in your backyard."

"That was fun. I loved doing that. When you get out of here we should do it again. I was thinking about us too. Remember the mailboxes?"

This is why I love our relationship. He can say just a few words and it opens up this huge backstory that sends us both laughing.

In the summer when we were almost 13, we were really bored and his mom made us go play outside instead of sitting in front of the television. Buddy said he had this great idea and told me to follow him. We snuck back into the kitchen and he grabbed the strawberry jam jar. For the next few hours we proceeded to sneak around the town, putting dollops of jam into people's mailbox. If you've never been to Texas during the summer, let me tell you it gets hot and humid. The jam caused a mess. It was lucky that I was a smart child because just as we were going inside I made Buddy put the jam into his own mailbox. It would have been suspicious if his family had been the only ones on his street without the mess. That next week we were shocked to find that they had an interview in the local paper, asking the mailman who he thought the culprit was. He blamed children and recommended a shorter summer vacation. We were never caught and we had never really talked about it again until now.

"I still can't believe it was in the paper," I say. Buddy laughs in agreement. I love his laugh. I miss his laugh.

We hear a bell ding, signaling our time is over.

We hug again, hesitantly. We aren't normally huggers but it just feels right for now.

We had a small incident a few weeks ago and I'm glad he didn't push the subject. I can tell things have changed between us. I just hope he doesn't think too poorly of me.

I wish he could stay here with me or I could go with him and I say so. He starts concocting a plan for escape involving a fire extinguisher, strawberry jam, and sliding in my socks.

Chapter Twelve – Lilly

I go in for my second session and, surprisingly, I am looking forward to it. I like Dr. Marks, which I guess is good because my stay at Pleasantwood would be more unbearable if I hated her.

"How are you feeling today?"

"I'm okay."

"Can you give me more than that?"

"I'm a little tired, actually."

"Is this a physical tiredness?"

"Yes and no. A mixture of both I guess."

"Are you up to talking even though you are tired?"

I love that she asks instead of insisting that I talk.

"Sure," I reply.

"Let's get started then, Lilly. Yesterday you mentioned your mother abuses drugs and alcohol. How do you think that affects you?"

"I don't know. I mean she doesn't do the normal things a mother is supposed to do."

She pauses, waiting for me to fill the silence, which I do. I can't stop talking. Damn, she's good.

"Like she doesn't ask me about my day, and she never checks to make sure my homework is done. She doesn't even know that I am at the top ten percent of my class. I doubt she even knows what that means," I say.

"And does this overlooking of you and your accomplishments hurt you?"

"Sometimes," I say honestly. "But, most of the time I really don't care, like I am cold to all of it."

"What makes you cold to it?"

"It's her attempts at sobriety. They get on my nerves."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"Not the way that she does it."

More silence from Dr. Marks.

"She really puts in an effort, and she's maybe sober for 5 or 10 days. Then she drinks and when she wakes up she's excited again, telling me that she is one day sober."

"And she does this often?"

"Yes, one time I counted. She was one day sober 18 times in that month."

"That has to be disappointing."

"It is," I agree. "The worst is that Donnie eggs her on. He tells her, 'Just have a few with me', but she can't just have a few. I think that's why my dad left."

She jots something down in her notebook. I would bet she just wrote "Daddy issues".

"Now, Donnie is your mom's boyfriend?"

"He is my stepdad. My dad left when I was little. I really don't know why so, I'm just guessing it was the drinking. He has never contacted us, and my mom claims she doesn't know why he left."

"How does this make you feel?"

"I don't know. I mean all I have are these memories of him. I vaguely remember them fighting, but I can't tell if that's even real or not. Like I wonder if I made that part up to justify things," I say sadly.

"How is your relationship with your step father?" she asks.

I clam up. I don't want to talk about this, and she has a way of making me talk.

"I forgot to thank you for letting Buddy in to see me. His mom brought me clothes and blankets and made me cookies, well, she tried to bring me the cookies but they wouldn't let me have them, something about outside food."

"So you don't want to talk about your stepfather?" I guess she doesn't let very much past her.

"No," I say in a whisper. "No, I don't."

"Lilly, I have been doing this for quite a while. I won't judge you. I won't tell anyone what you have told me. I have some theories about you. Maybe we could just go over a few of them and you could just tell me if I am right or wrong. How does that sound?"

"That sounds like a really horrible idea. Terrible," I say honestly.

Then I get up from her principal like chair because this woman is going to have to pry the words from my throat.

Because of our session, I've missed all of "school" so I make my way to group therapy. I'm nervous because I don't know what this consists of, but it turns out it is just a group of us girls sitting in a circle and talking.

By talking, I mean complaining about various issues, some more interesting than others. It's a lot of "no one loves me", "it was only a little weed" and "but he told me we would be together forever" (which is my personal favorite).

Emma, a girl with cropped hair takes the lead with her story. She says that she has been diagnosed with mood disorder and peer problems. Then, she goes into a rant about and how no one understands her, and how if we could have seen how the bank teller looked at her we would have tried to slap her too.

Cindy goes next. She says she has low motivation, meaning she has trouble getting out of bed in the morning. Her parents sent her here because she misses a lot of school. Seems normal enough, right? Wrong. Cindy throws us a curve ball when she admits her low motivation causes her to be a bed wetter. I silently pray, "Please don't let her be my new roommate. Please don't let her be my new roommate."

Tiny is next. She says she has anger management issues, but she can't really talk about them because it will make her angry.

Seriously? Where I am?

Kelly, who is next, proudly admits that she is being treated for sexual promiscuity. She tells us that sleeping with random guys gives her a rush of adrenaline and she never wants to stop. We all had to sit and listen to a speech from the counselor about STD's.

Sam, a very small girl goes next. She admits that she is a cutter or, to use the more technical term, self-harmer. She doesn't give up any more information, even though the counselor urges her. Instinctively, I looked down at Sam's arms and they make me shudder. I don't think Sam can be any older than 13 and she is covered in scars.

It doesn't get dicey until the group leader asks for the new patients to introduce themselves and tell the group why they are here. Luckily, a girl named Audrey goes first so I don't have to.

"So, Audrey, tell us about yourself."

"Well, I'm 15 and I am a freshman at Springville High School."

"And why are you here?"

"Because I, like, tried to kill myself," She says waiting for the impact of the words to hit the group. I examine her while we wait for her to continue. Audrey is on the heavier, shorter side and has bleached blonde hair. She holds up her wrists. The group collectively leans in to take a look. Since there is only one person between us I get a good look at the attempt. I have had worse paper cuts. I am embarrassed for her. I try my best not to glance back at Sam. Audrey continues without being prompted.

"Anyway, so my mom told me I couldn't go to prom. I was the only freshman who got invited, but she found out my boyfriend is 18; she won't let me go."

"And you tried to kill yourself over this?" a girl I don't know asks incredulously.

Audrey pauses, opens her mouth, and decides not to say whatever she was going to say. I think this may be the first smart thing she has done so far.

The group leader asks if there are any other new people. As she asks this she looks directly at me. Busted.

I hesitantly raise my hand. I know I analyze everyone here, and it makes me nervous to think what everyone thinks of me.

"My name is Lilly Barnes, and I'm a senior at Bayberry High School."

Clearly, this isn't enough information because everyone looks at me expectantly.

"I'm here because I tried to kill myself," I say.

There are more expectant looks. I don't know what to say, so I stay quiet until someone asks how.

"I took a ton of pills from my best friend's grandma who has cancer. Then I drank a glass of cleaning liquid." It sounds insane when I say it out loud and, for the first time; I think perhaps they did the right thing by putting me in here based on those facts alone. I hear the intake of breaths all around the circle and then a girl starts laughing. "Damn girl, you weren't playing." Everyone else starts laughing and Audrey catches my eye as she looks down.

"Can you tell us what caused you to go to such extreme measures?"

Did she just say extreme measures? Now I'm pissed off.

"I wanted to kill myself, so I found a way that I thought would work. I didn't know that one way or the other would be more extreme."

My little speech doesn't seem to faze her, but a few people in the group look worried I am going to do something.

"Do you care to tell us what got you this point in your life?"

"Absolutely not!" I say, and with that, I get up and walk away from the group. I hear everyone whispering as I walk away, and I slam the door silencing their voices. I don't know where to go, so I just go back to my room. I hate that I claim it as mine.

Chapter Thirteen – Lilly

I shove my room's door open then throw myself on my bed. That group therapy stuff is stupid. I have to figure out a way to get out of this place. I hear a cough from the other side of the room and almost jump out of my skin.

A mousey looking girl sits on Headley's bed. I guess it's not Headley's bed anymore based on the amount of items placed near it neatly.

The girl is petite. Not petite like Headley, but naturally petite, like, her bones are small. She has brown hair and huge eyes. She looks like a lost bird, a lost bird that is just staring at me.

I remember back to my first day here, which was only two days ago, but it seems like a lifetime. I remember Headley welcoming me and how that was my first step to feeling normal here.

With that I get up and cross the room.

"I'm Lilly Barnes." I extend my hand but she doesn't move. Her bird face just stares back at me.

"Well, if you need anything I'm just across the room," I say uncomfortably. I throw myself back on my bed and sigh heavily. I'm sure someone will come and get me soon; there is no way that they are letting me skip today's activities. We're supposed to take a nature walk later (whatever the hell that is). Are we supposed to go in our socks? I don't want to find out.

"Excuse me, Miss."

The bird girl has spoken. Did she just call me Miss? Her voice even sounds birdish, like what I would imagine a bird sounds like if it were to speak.

"Yes?"

"Do you happen to have any sort of antibacterial wipes or maybe bleach wipes?"

"Um, no," I reply confused.

"They said that would be the case, but I just thought I would check," she says giving me a small, scared smile.

Even from across the room I can tell she is about to cry.

"What's your name?" I ask, trying to think quickly.

"Jane Highsmith."

"Hi Jane, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she mumbles.

"What do you need cleaning wipes for?" I ask.

"To clean the room, of course," she says.

Of course.

"They told me it wouldn't be possible," she continues. "But I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm sorry I don't have any cleaning supplies." I might actually be the last person here they let around cleaning supplies. Then I explain to her that they don't let us bring any food or really any other items into the rooms, so she should be okay. The look on her face lets me know that this doesn't settle her mind at all. I tell her I saw that they changed the sheets from the last girl, but she still doesn't look reassured.

"I'm going to find someone to ask, okay?" Her eyes are glistening and I pity her. She will need thicker skin if she is going to make it. Of course, who am I to judge, I'm the girl who ran out of group therapy.

I look up and down the hallway and spot someone to the left. I see she only has socks on, but I can ask her to see if she knows someone who can help out Jane. I get close behind the girl, and I hear her talking, no, singing to herself.

We're all insane here at Pleasantwood

We might be crazy but we feel good

We're all insane here at Pleasantwood

We might be crazy but we feel good

We're all insane...

I turn around, positive she is not going to be of any use. I go back to our room because, besides Crazy, no one else in the hallway.

Dr. Marks is in my room, standing near my bed. She is in mid-sentence with Jane, and she smiles when she sees me.

"Lilly, I was just asking about you," she says.

"I went to go look for someone for Jane. She needs some sort of cleaning wipes, and I don't have any," I explain.

"Yes, she was just explaining that. I will notify her counselor."

I look at Jane who is also smiling now, that poor child. I'm not a doctor (obviously), but maybe she has OCD. I really hope they help her.

"Lilly, will you walk with me?" Dr. Marks asks. The sentence is formed like a question, but I know that I don't have a choice. I'll be lucky if I am on yellow again. I'm pretty sure I've lost my visiting privileges. Damn. I hope they don't move me to red.

I'm so tense, I feel like I'm going to throw up. We make it back to her office without talking.

Chapter Fourteen – Buddy

It's funny how lonely I feel just knowing that I can't talk to her anytime I want. I never realized how much I took that for granted. She didn't talk to me, but I knew that she wouldn't. It would be so much easier if we could just talk. But I've tried to have that conversation with her before, and it didn't work.

I wouldn't judge her. I don't like it, but I wouldn't judge her. She has to know that.

A few weeks ago I showed up unexpectedly at her house. It was late, around midnight, but it was Saturday so I knew she would be awake. We don't have the kind of relationship where we have to call if we want to see each other, we can just pop up.

I walked into her room and Donnie was there, sitting on the edge of her bed. He was putting his shirt back on. When I came into the room the shirt was just clearing his head. He looked surprised to see me, but he didn't say anything. He just walked past me like I wasn't even standing there. For a brief second, I wanted to throw my arms over the doorway and stop him from leaving. Lilly sat up, but didn't quite get up all the way. I remember that she pulled the blankets closer to her. Her shoulders were bare, and I knew that she was naked underneath.

"Lil, what's going on? What is this?" I asked in shock.

"I think you should go," she said, not meeting my gaze.

"I don't want to go. I want to know what the hell is going on."

"You should go," she repeated.

Lilly and I never fought. Well, we never fought past the age of ten or so. When we were kids we used to fight about who got to play with which toy, who won the race, or who told the better "knock, knock" joke. We never had any real fights. That's what made us best friends. We were the rare friends who liked being near each other all the time. We were joined at the hip. There was no cattiness between us like you find in other relationships with people our age. Our names were always said in conjunction with each other. BuddyandLilly. LillyandBuddy.

I knew in that moment that our streak was going to end. I wasn't going anywhere without an explanation. I needed answers. This was something too huge to keep from me.

"What about your mom?" I ask incredulously. "I know she's not the best, but this is her husband. Fuck, Lilly. Really? You're really doing this?"

"You don't know what the fuck you are talking about." She spat the words at me. They landed on my ears, hurting me, causing physical pain. My stomach dropped. I had never heard her talk to anyone like this. I couldn't believe I was hearing these words from her and they were directed towards me.

"You're making a mistake," I said simply.

She didn't respond. She just laid back on the bed and threw the blanket over her head. As I shut the door, I heard her crying, and I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn't welcome. I didn't even know if I could stand the sight of her either.

I knew Lilly wasn't perfect. I'm not delusional, but I never expected this from her. Lilly not wanting to go to college – sure. Lilly being the pickiest eater I've ever known – sure. But never could I have ever imagined that she was capable of doing something like this. It was wrong on so many levels.

When I saw her at church the next day she didn't say anything about the night before. She acted like nothing was wrong, like nothing had transpired between us. She sat with my family in church. Her mom and Donnie don't attend, so she has always sat with us.

She kissed my mom on the cheek then sat down right beside me. She gave me a tentative smile, and I wanted to tell her that everything was not okay with us, but I couldn't. This was not the place to have that conversation anyway.

She motioned to the Bible and grabbed a pen out of her purse. I knew right away she wanted to play the Bible game. My mom hates the Bible game and says she hopes no one ever finds out what we are doing. Since the Bible game is so strongly discouraged it's kind of a big deal that she wants to play. This means she's trying, because of all the things we've ever invented, this is my favorite.

You take the Bible and open it to any page. You underline certain words on that page, then you hand the Bible over and the person only reads the underlined words. If it's done right, it's supposed to be a sentence that's funny. As we've gotten older, we have made it more and more inappropriate. The only rule is you aren't allowed to view the page beforehand; it has to be at random. She passes the book to me.

1 Corinthians 7:8: I/cannot/believeth/woman/be/pleased/by/circumcised/man

A laugh escapes me and my mom glares down at us. Lilly smiles sweetly at her and tosses the pen back into her purse. It's a classic Lilly Bible line and I almost forget that I am mad at her, almost, but not quite. There's just one thing bothering me about this whole situation. I don't know if I am more mad at her because what she is doing is wrong, or if because she chose Donnie over me.
Chapter Fifteen – Lilly

Dr. Marks stares at me for a minute before she starts talking. It's like there's so much for her to say she doesn't know where to start. "I called you in here for a few reasons. The first is because you left group therapy and that is a big no, no here. It's rude to the group leader and it's rude to the other patients."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"I didn't think you would work in a group setting, and I was right. I think you would benefit from intense one on one therapy. Your stay at Pleasantwood should only be a couple of days, and, if we can get to the bottom of your issues, I can release you and get you into contact with another therapist for long term help. Pleasantwood isn't a place where you are supposed to stay for an extended period. It's sort of the middle ground from hopelessness to recovery. And, Lilly, I would truly love to see you recover. My job is to make sure that you won't try to harm yourself again and to see that you get any help you need."

"What do you mean by 'intense one on one therapy?' I ask.

"It means that you don't have to go to group therapy, and you don't have to go to school. You will spend most of your day with me, working through your issues."

"What about your other patients?" I ask.

"Why don't you let me worry about that?"

"Okay."

"Okay, you want my help?" she asks.

"Yes, I want your help," I say.

"Lilly, since we have such a short time span together, this may be stressful to you, but I am going to help you through it. I promise."

My face feels hot. My heart is beating faster than it should. I can feel sweat start to gather at the center of my back and drip down. I feel like everything is lining up right in front of me. I have someone who cares, someone who can help me.

I know that it's time.

It's time to end this.

"I'm ready," I say

Dr. Mark's smiles, "Good, Lilly, that is really good."

"Where do I start?"

"Start at the beginning, the first time."

"What do you mean the first time? Wait, how did you know?" I ask.

"It's my job. It was mostly just a hunch, but I'm not wrong am I?"

"No," I say surprised.

"You can always tell the ones that do this for attention. Then you can tell the ones that really mean it, and that is my favorite part of all, to help people like you," she says. She is so damn good at this. I wish she had been around the whole time. I could have really used the help.

"So, I just start talking? God, this is so hard."

"Take your time."

"I've thought about it so many, many times. You know saying it out loud, but I can't believe it's time."

She does that whole silent thing which helps me to keep talking.

"Here goes nothing," I start.

"It's not really nothing though, is it? It's everything, really."

I nod my head rapidly. "You're right," I agree. "Okay then, here goes everything. I was 15 the first time it happened and, at first, I convinced myself that it was a fluke. You know, maybe he was so drunk he mistook me for my mom. At least that's what I thought until he said my name. He said 'Lilly, I want you.' then I knew there was no going back for him. I was asleep when he got on top of me. I felt like right off of the bat I was at a disadvantage. He already got the jump on me. He was so heavy and I tried to push him off of me. You would think I would have gotten some sort of superpower, some sort of extra strength. You know like when you hear about these men that come together to lift a car to save a small child. I kept waiting for this extra strength that should have come to me, but it didn't. For a minute I just laid there trying to create a way to get him off of me. I tried to scream for help, but he shoved his hands over my mouth. Then, he replaced his hands with his mouth. That's how I got my first kiss, if you can even call it that."

I was looking down the whole time, not able to make eye contact while I talked. When I looked up Dr. Marks was staring back at me. She wasn't preoccupied with writing notes in her notebook, I had her full attention. She looked straight into my eyes and nodded, so I continued.

"I was 15. I mean, I knew about sex. I knew girls who were having sex, but I wasn't even close to being ready. A lot of people talked about me and Buddy. Kids at school said that we were doing it, but we weren't. His parents trusted us, and I wouldn't do that to them. We were the only teenagers that could have boy/girl sleepovers, and I didn't want to lose their trust. Plus, that's just not the kind of relationship we have. Before that day, I had wondered what it would be like and I knew that Buddy would be the perfect person to do it with because he knew me better than anyone else, but we weren't there yet. I wasn't there yet. I never had visions of losing it at prom or in whatever bullshit romantic way girls my age think of losing it. I wanted to be college aged and for sure out of Bayberry. I wanted to know who I was a little better. I didn't want to do it like that."

I always thought I would cry, but my eyes were dry and I suddenly felt empowered. Like I could keep going and tear down the world while I was at it.

"It hurt like you wouldn't believe. He was rough and hateful. I know the first time is supposed to hurt, but I don't think it's supposed to be like that. He tasted like alcohol and something else that I couldn't place. He smelled like apples for some reason. Maybe he just eaten some? Anyway, he smelled like apples, so now I can't even stand the sight of them anymore. I kept waiting for my mom to call him, look for him, ask why he was out of bed, but she never came. I wanted to spit in his face, but he was already hurting me so much, and I didn't want to piss him off. He had me pinned down by my wrists and the rest of my body was pinned down by his body. He has this disgusting beard, and I could feel it scratching up and down my face, over and over again. It could have lasted 10 minutes or 10 years, I can't be sure. Once he really started and I knew fighting was futile, I went somewhere else. I tried closing my eyes, but he told me I had to look at him, so I did. My eyes were open, but I wasn't really looking."

I stopped again, making sure she was still with me. When I look back up, I was surprised to find that her face was red, like she was blushing. Maybe I had gone too far? Maybe she was mad? Had I said too much?

"Should I keep going?" I ask.

"If you can," she replied stiffly.

I never thought I would want to talk if given the option, but I kept going. I need it all out of me.

"When he finished, he got dressed. He didn't say anything else to me, and I was glad. It would have killed me if he wanted to lay there and spoon or some shit. When he left, it wasn't like how it is in the movies. I didn't lay there and cry. I didn't get up and take a shower. They always do that in the movies. The girl is always crying that she can't get clean. In a way I understand, but I knew no amount of Dove was going to be able to solve this. More than anything, I just felt numb. Dead. I didn't go to school for two days. I said I had the flu. I just stayed in bed and slept. After the third day, I got up and pretended that everything was fine. It was like something had snapped inside of me. I snapped shut. I had never liked Donnie before, so no one noticed that I wasn't talking to him."

"Did he say anything to you?" she asks.

"Not in the first days. But, when he was drinking, he would tell me things about my body or things he wanted to do to me. It was horrible, so I just spent more and more time at Buddy's house. I think I've went through a lot of different stages; like where I would clean my room spotless or I would study really hard, and I would tell myself "if you get an 'A' on this History test and tell him, he will see that you have a future and he won't come back.""

Dr. Marks cut in. "Wait, did the abuse continue?"

"Yeah. Oh, did you think he stopped?" That comes out horribly rude and I apologize.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I should not have made assumptions. How often was the abuse?"

"I mean, I didn't keep a schedule. Sometimes he would go weeks. It was always when my mom was passed out."

"Does your mother know?"

"I never told her, but part of me thinks that she knows. Or maybe I just feel like she should know. Oh, I left out a part. I didn't know that he used a condom the first time. My mom found it in my wastebasket in my bedroom. She started yelling at me, crying that I was so young and that she wasn't raising any grandchildren. I could barely pay attention though because I was so happy. I don't know when he put it on, but I was so happy that he did. I already had visions of me with a huge belly, and I knew something like that would have ruined my life. That night at dinner, she tried to have a 'family discussion' which was a joke because she was already drunk. Donnie looked straight at me and said, 'Atta, girl.' I could feel my skin crawl all over my body, like I was covered in a million bugs. If I was cold and distant to what had happened before, with those two words he started up something different in me. I felt like a war was raging inside me. I was the North, and I was the South. I was fighting all sides and there would be no winner. I was going down. Honestly, I am impressed that I lasted almost three more years."

"You said you went through phases, can you give me more examples?" Dr. Marks asks.

"Sure. I went through a 'why me?' phase. I tried to figure out what I had done wrong, but I sort of got over that quickly. I knew I hadn't done a damn thing to deserve this. I'm a good person."

"That's important that you know that," she agreed.

"I don't know, sometimes, it would just sort of hit me in waves, and in times or places that I wouldn't expect it, like I would be doing something then Bam! I was on my knees crying unable to breath."

"Can you give me an example?"

"There's this diner in our town called Emily's. On one of the rare occasions we went out as a family, I had an incident. We had gotten through our meal okay, with minimal conversation between Donnie and me, but then they decided to order dessert, which of course was apple pie. It clicked in my head when he ordered it. I mean, I seriously can't even see an apple anymore, so I lost it when he fed my mom a piece of pie. I mean, that's gross in itself. I didn't even know people really did that. I excused myself to the bathroom and I spent the next better part of fifteen minutes on the floor crying and trying to catch my breath. I think I had a panic attack. By the time I composed myself they had already finished, paid for the bill, and were ready to leave me at the diner."

Dr. Marks doesn't say anything. Assuming that she wanted me to continue, I paused before I say the next part.

"Do you want to know what my final straw was?"

"Of course."

"I decided to kill myself when he told me that he loved me."

"He actually said those words?"

"Yeah, about 6 months ago, it was after he finished and while he was still on top. He looked straight at me and told me that he was in love with me."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I just laid there like the coward that I am."

"You are not a coward, Lilly. You have been extremely brave."

"I am a lot of things, but brave is not one of them. I never stopped him. I never told anyone. I just let it happen," I point out.

"I can see this is an issue that will need to be worked on. I don't want to argue, but you are not a coward. What you did was survive, which was extremely brave."

She sat there silently so I continue.

"He took my first kiss, my first time, and he was the first person to tell me that he loved me. I feel that he ruined me. I will never be a normal girl, adult, whatever; I would never be normal because of him. I decided that he could have my life too. Literally. I didn't want it anymore. It isn't mine. Can we stop now? I'm actually really tired."

Chapter Sixteen – Lilly

Once I get back to my room I begin to cry.

I cry uncontrollably. I can't remember a time I have cried more. Eventually, a person I don't know comes through the door and tells me its dinner time. I can't believe I had been talking with Dr. Marks for that long. An invitation to dinner means I'm not on yellow, and I'm glad because I am starving.

I get my food, and I'm about to sit at my table (another thing I have claimed here) when I notice Jane sitting by herself. I sit down across from of her. She looks up from her food, and she looks like she is going to cry.

My own face is puffy from crying I'm sure, but I can't let her sit there like that. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"I don't think this fork is very clean." She looks at me as tears start to brim her eyes.

We're all insane here at Pleasantwood

"Let me see." She lifts up the fork so I can see it clearly, and it looks fine to me, but I can't let her sit here and cry. If I can't help myself, I can at least help her.

"Follow me," I say. We leave our food at the table and walk back to the kitchen. Since everyone is eating, the area is empty except for employees.

I see a large man standing behind a sink. "Excuse me, Sir."

"Yes?"

"My name is Lilly, and this is my friend Jane. Say hi, Jane."

"Hi," Jane chirps.

The man looks confused but I continue. "What's your name?" I ask.

"I'm Dave," he replies cautiously.

"Dave, my friend, Jane wants to know the process of how the forks are cleaned." He still looks confused. "Dave, let's say I hand you a dirty fork. How would you go about cleaning it?"

"I would put it in the dishwasher." He points as he answers to a large dishwasher. It's like the one I have at home, but on a larger scale.

Jane chirps in. "What temperature is that water at when it's operating?"

"I think around 190 degrees."

Jane looks at me and whispers, "That's really good. I require at least 170 degrees."

I smile back at Jane because I don't know what to say to that. I've never had a temperature requirement for anything before.

"Then what do you do with the dishes?" I continue.

"After they are washed, they are steamed dry," he replies.

"And how do you give them to patients?"

"I give them to patients with my hands," I can tell Dave is confused now.

"Dave, do you wear gloves all the time?"

"Yes, ma'am, we all do."

"So what you are telling me is that the dishes are washed at the proper temperature and then they are never touched by your hands?" I ask.

Dave is still confused, but he nods yes.

"Jane, are you satisfied?" Jane nods excitedly, and we both thank Dave for his help. As we are leaving, I notice that Dr. Marks is standing in line behind us, waiting to be served. I didn't notice she was there. That may explain why Dave was so willing to help us. Dr. Marks smiles brightly at me like I didn't just tell her my deepest, darkest secrets.

I join Jane back at our table and she picks up her fork excitedly staring at it. I'm glad to have made her happy.

I briefly hear Jane crying as she tries to fall asleep. I have my own demons to deal with tonight, so I leave her be. I'm spent and I don't think I could be of any help anyway.

I had trouble falling asleep. I haven't ever talked about these things out loud. I can't sleep because my head is racing. But, for the first time in a really long time, my chest feels light. I feel like I can breathe. I feel like that war that's raging inside of me is a little bit quieter tonight, like the soldiers are retreating.

Tomorrow, I'll tell her all of the reasons why I wanted to kill myself. I'll tell her about the time Buddy walked in on Donnie and me and how he thought that it was something that I wanted.

Chapter Seventeen – Buddy

I miss Lilly so much. I wish she were here right now. If she came back right now, I would never think a bad thought about her. I would never judge her. I would accept every single idiosyncrasy about her. God, I sound like a child.

I try to focus on happier Lilly thoughts.

A study session with Lilly is easily the best part of my week. It is the best part of any day. A person has never looked forward to studying more than I do. My favorite part isn't working our way through quadratic equations or studying chemical compounds. My favorite part is watching the progression of her hair.

She always comes in with a perfect ponytail, all of her perfect brown, blond hair is completely slicked back and it's in a long flawless bunch at the back of her head.

As the day goes on, as we argue about equations, these little hairs start poking out around her forehead. Then these small, little curls start poking out at the base of her neck.

All of the sudden, that glorious ponytail has started to fray, without her permission, and she looks even more beautiful, if that is possible.

Eventually, she realizes that her hair has fallen, and she swiftly pulls out the rubber band, grabbing all that has been misplaced, and puts it back in a perfect bunch.

I watch and wait for it all to fall again.

I could live off of those ringlets at her neck.

I would set up shop, selling front row seats to the show.

I could be eternally happy.

It should be noted that I rarely actually learn anything in our study sessions. I have to study hard ahead of time so I can successfully argue with Lilly. Then I study when she leaves based on whatever I happened to be wrong about.

My chest tightens with thoughts of missing her.

Chapter Eighteen – Lilly

For the first time in a long time, I sleep. I didn't think I would be able to, but once I drifted off, I never came back.

No one wakes me. I don't feel hurried hands on my skin, phantom or otherwise.

I sleep. Glorious, uninterrupted sleep.

I wake up ravished, so I wake up Jane. That way we can get dibs on the good pancakes, and I can be there if she has any silverware issues.

Jane seems better. She smiles as they give her the silverware, and she eats properly. She doesn't even take the time to investigate her surroundings. The only hint of her illness I see is when she goes to sit down at the table, and she has to wipe her seat with the inside of her shirt first. For a second she looks at her shirt as she realizes the germs are now on her clothing. She looks up at me hopelessly. I quickly put my food down on the table and walk her back to our room so she can change her clothes.

Dr. Marks smiles brightly when I walk into her office. "How do you feel this morning?"

"I feel good. Better than good. I actually feel great. I really slept last night. I sort of feel like a can kick someone's ass or maybe just run up a really tall hill." I laugh at myself when I say this.

"So you feel liberated, is that it?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good way to put it. Liberated. I like that. I feel free. Which is kind of stupid because when you release me I'm just going back home."

"We can talk about that later, but we really should tell your mother. I can't send you back home to a house where you are being abused."

"I understand," I say meekly. "So you're going to have her come here?"

"Yes, I am working on getting into contact with her."

"Okay." I don't want to have the conversation, but I understand that it needs to be done. I won't be released without it. For once my mom has to act like a normal mom. She has to kick him out and start over. Quit drinking. Go back to work. This is her second chance. I'm tired of it all. Today, it changes. It has to.

"Are you ready to begin?"

I don't hesitate. "Sure, let's do this."

"So now I understand why you are here, and the feelings and actions that brought you here, but I want to talk about the decision to end your life. Why did you think that was the appropriate course of action?"

"You're asking me why I wanted to die instead of what, get help?"

"Precisely," she answers.

"I was just tired. Emotionally, I mean, just tired."

"I understand that, but I think there's a little more to it than that. You're obviously a bright girl and incredibly strong, so I think your thought process went a little deeper than exhaustion."

"Okay..." I pause for a moment to try to put this in the best way possible. I really want to leave, and I think back to what Headley told me about talking, so I want to get this right. "Let me see if I can get this out right. Okay, it's a fact that there are absolutes in this world, right?"

She nods, not sure where I am going with this. I don't even know where I am going with this.

"Everyone absolutely knows what a strawberry tastes like, even if you are allergic to them. Everyone absolutely knows what the toilet flushing sounds like. Everyone absolutely scratches their mosquito's bites. And I know that I was absolutely ready to die. This wasn't a cry for help. I didn't want to be saved. I was ready to call it quits. Done. Terminado."

"I understand what you are saying, but what lead you to that point?" Dr. Marks asks.

"I thought we went over that yesterday. You don't remember me pouring my heart out? You know the part where I bared my soul to you. "

"Of course I do, Lilly. But you graduate shortly. You've been handling this unfortunate situation for a very long time. Couldn't you have left home in a few weeks? Why now? Why try to attempt suicide now? I told you that I would have to ask the hard hitting questions if I were to release you. You can do this. It's going to be intense, but you can do this."

Unfortunate situation, my ass. She makes it sound like I live in a small house or I don't have name brand jeans. Sporting a muffin top is an unfortunate situation. I would not consider what I have gone through just an unfortunate situation, and I tell her so.

"So you think I'm a coward?" I ask, continuing to get mad.

"Of course not. In fact, I believe I've told you I think you are very brave. I am simply asking why, at this point and time; you chose to go to such extreme measures when you could have left home in a few short weeks. You could have gotten away from Donnie relatively soon."

"I don't know," I reply.

"I don't want to push too hard, but I have to disagree, I think you know why. I am interested in your reasoning. There is no judgment here."

"It's like I told you yesterday, he ruined me. I can't imagine myself going off to college and meeting some boy in the school library. I can't go on a date. I won't wait around for a first kiss. I won't hook up with anyone. My skin crawls. Sometimes I have to look down at my arms or legs because I can literally feel them moving around. I don't know how else to explain it. He's ruined me. Let's say I find a boyfriend, do I tell him? Who wants to be with a girl like that? Wouldn't it freak him out? And at what point do I tell him? When we are serious? Then what if he breaks up with me? Do I just tell him openly and hope that he stays? Or do I marry him and then tell him later down the line, after he is already attached? I can't answer any of these questions. I don't want to answer any of those questions. Why can't it just be enough that I didn't see a future for myself? Why can't it be enough that I was tired? You have no idea how exhausting these last few years have been. It's like my heart has run a marathon even though my legs never moved."

"But Lilly, with time and more therapy, more healing, you will get better. You are not ruined. You are a very brave girl. I've been doing this for almost 15 years, and you are one of the bravest people I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know. You have to know that."

"So you don't think he ruined me?" I ask hesitantly.

"No, I do not. I think you may hit some trouble spots, but I expect you to make a full recovery. I know you can do it. I believe in you, and those other questions about your future mate, that will all work itself out. I know you will find a person who really cares about you, and he will accept everything you have encountered. Believe it or not, this experience will make you a better person. "

I nod, unable to come up with a response sufficient enough for that undertaking.

"There is a part I am leaving out."

She nods, "go ahead." It's like she was expecting it.

"Well, I mean so many times I wanted to tell Buddy. I started, I would try, but then I would chicken out. I was scared. Scared of how he would react. I thought he could get himself in some real trouble if he knew, and I didn't want that for him. I was also scared of what he would think of me. I let it go on for so long. I didn't really stop him. I don't think I ever actually said stop. That's one of the things I think I will have to live with: the fact that I didn't try hard enough to stop him. I didn't scream or fight. It was like I was in a bad dream. I know girls always say, 'I would fight, I would kick him in the balls', but when it came down to it, I just laid there. I just laid there."

"You can't think like that. You did the thing that helped you survive. Who cares what everyone else would do? You did what worked for you. That's part of the survival thing I was trying to tell you earlier. No one really knows what they would do until they are in that situation. Is it good to have a plan for unfortunate events? Yes. Be aware of your surroundings. If you are walking in a parking lot by yourself at night, have your keys out. Don't have headphones on. Be alert. But, do you really know how you are going to react if an attacker is in front of you? No. It's so easy for people to sit back and judge, but no one really knows what they would do."

That is quite possibly the most I have heard her talk. I try to keep my face straight like she does when I go off on a rant, but it doesn't last long because she directs the conversation back to me. "So you never told Buddy?"

"No, but he knows now. Sort of."

"Explain, please."

"You know, now that I think about it, this part may have really been the deciding factor for me in the suicide attempt. After this happened, I really was lost. Okay, so Buddy and I come and go from each other's houses. We don't have keys, but we don't exactly knock either. Donnie was leaving my room. I think he may have had his shirt off and, I was naked. Buddy didn't see anything, but he knew I was naked. The situation looked like we were having an affair or something. Anyway you looked at it, it was bad. Really bad. The thing is, after a few times of Donnie really hurting me, leaving bruises on my wrists or neck I decided to make things easier, I would undress and not fight back. If I fought back, he would hurt me, and I was tired of being hurt. My fighting back was already pretty futile, it's not like I was going anywhere. Anyway, so Buddy came in, saw what he saw, and jumped to conclusions. I don't blame him. I know what it looked like."

"So what happened?"

"Well, Donnie left, and Buddy and I argued. He said it wasn't right to do that to my mom. I was so taken aback. All I wanted was him out of my room. I couldn't stand how he was looking at me. I never thought he could look at me like that. It was like he was disgusted with me. I knew things would never be the same between us. After that, I felt like I had nothing left. I didn't have a family, and I felt like I had lost my only friend. I couldn't see a future so I did the only thing I could think of. You have to understand that I was happy with my decision. It was what I wanted. The quality of my life had just slowly deteriorated. I hadn't been able to eat or sleep that well. I was crumbling."

"I didn't realize you hadn't been sleeping," Dr. Marks commented.

"I would wait to see if he was going to come in my room or not. If it didn't happen I would fall asleep, but I would have bad dreams and always wake up."

"What kind of dreams?"

"This is really, really stupid and I've never actually told anyone this before."

"Go ahead if you can."

"In the third grade, we learned about the Indians. I think my teacher took it a little bit too far and he told us about the whole scalping thing. You know what I'm talking about right?"

"Of course, the Native Americans would scalp the colonists, using the scalps as trophies."

I shiver. "Right. First of all, I think they tell you that way too young. They should save that for at least middle school because, since the third grade, I have had nightmares about that."

"You were getting scalped?"

"Sometimes it was me. Sometimes I was watching it happen to Buddy or his family. Horrible stuff. But now it's always Donnie. Donnie has a feather in his hair and after he messes with me he always tries to scalp me. I usually wake up before he can really get into it, but I lose a lot sleep whenever I have those dreams."

"Have you ever taken any sleep medication?"

"No, I thought about it, but what if Donnie came in my room. I would be worried that I couldn't wake up, and that freaks me out."

"That makes sense," she replied.

"It's almost time for visitors. What would you say to letting Buddy know the truth about what he saw?"

"Wait! Just telling him? Now?"

"Yes. Like ripping off a band aid."

"How do you know he will be here?"

Before I even get the question out, I already know that she is right; of course he will be here.

Chapter Nineteen – Buddy

I'm going to kill him. I am going to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he doesn't have any breath left in him. If I spend the rest of my life in jail, every second will be worth it. I'm going to kill him. He's dead.

How could I have suspected the worst of her? Don't I know her best? Don't I know that is not the person she is? The truth makes more sense than what I thought, which is horrible.

These are precisely the things I am saying out loud to Lilly and Dr. Marks. Does she have to report me for saying that I'm going to kill him? I don't care as long as I can get my hands on him first.

Lilly is straight-faced, then she gives me a tentative smile and asks Dr. Marks if we can have a moment alone. She seems older to me, even though she has only been in here a few days. When the doctor leaves, I repeat that I'm going to kill him.

"No, you're not. I need you," Lilly says.

She needs me. Of course she needs me. I have to be there for her. Maybe I will just settle for beating him instead. Either way, he is not getting away with this.

"I'm going to press charges. I haven't told Dr. Marks yet, but I'm going to. Let the courts take care of him. I need you more." As she says this, she grabs my hand and squeezes it.

I feel like an asshole. I can't believe I'm sitting here letting her comfort me.

"I don't know what I can do to help, but I will do whatever it takes, whatever you need."

"Thank you."

I wrap my arms around her. She feels so warm in this horrible place. She has always been such a warm person, in more ways than one. I can't believe that of all people this has happened to her.

Dr. Marks comes back in the room and we remove ourselves from each other.

"Don't do anything rash," Lilly says sternly, turning on that motherly voice she sometimes uses with me.

"I won't. I won't tell anyone either. I promise."

"Actually, could you do me a favor?"

"Anything," I reply without hesitation.

"I don't know if I could handle telling your mom. I feel like she should know. I don't want sympathy or anything like that. It's just that I don't know what she is thinking about me, and I don't want her to think badly of me, her more than anyone. She probably thinks I'm crazy now that I'm in this place."

"She doesn't. She would never think badly of you. She loves you."

For the first time Lilly looks like she is going to cry and I step in for another hug before I leave.

I have never seen my mom cry so hard. I cover her with the blanket my grandma made, and she keeps wiping her face onto it. I think I made a mistake in telling her. My father is pacing the floor in the living room. He keeps muttering under his breath. Every once in a while I can make out a word or two, and so far I've heard "face," "fist," and "kick". I tell him Lilly doesn't want us to do anything. I tell him that she needs to handle it.

"We don't tell your brothers," he says finally.

It's a good plan. I don't know that I could control them. I may have claimed Lilly as mine when we were five, but they love Lilly just as much as I do. She is like a sister to them.

I tell my mom about when I saw Donnie leaving Lilly's room, and I what I thought was happening.

She cries harder and hugs me close. I let her hold me like I am a child, and I fall asleep with my head on her lap.

Chapter Twenty – Lilly

I sleep another night. More specifically, I sleep peacefully for another night. I could get used to this, and plan on it.

Dr. Marks thinks it's an excellent idea that I press charges. She has me fill out paperwork, listing each gory detail of the rape.

I wasn't expecting the physical examination, but it makes sense. They check me out and take my blood saying they are testing it for HIV. It's amazing to me that I never even considered that an option.

Now wouldn't that be the icing on the cake?

It's hard for me to even say the word rape, so she switches it to assault. She says I will have to talk about the assault over and over again and to just tell the truth. Dr. Marks encourages me to use the word rape; she says it will help with healing. The changing of the words lightens the act I think.

I feel confident. Strong. Parts of me hates that I gave up, but the other parts understand the struggle.

Someday all of my parts will come together.

Someday.

Dr. Marks brings my mom in. She looks hung over. Great.

I say it fast, skipping over a lot of details. I get the important words out, no more than that.

"What do you mean touching you?" she asks accusingly.

"I mean that he assaulted me." I'm not ready to use the scary word yet.

"You mean you two were having sex together."

It wasn't posed as a question. She was stating a fact. Dr. Marks jumps in for me as I open my mouth.

"Mrs. Barnes, your husband did not have Lilly's permission. Your daughter has been raped these last three years."

There. She figured out a way to say it. Maybe it will get easier with time.

"Oh, I thought y'all were just doing it."

After I basically have to pick myself up off the floor as I ask, "Wait! Mom, you knew?"

"I never saw anything, except how he would look at you. And, he stopped sleeping with me, so it wasn't hard to put it together. Plus, it doesn't hurt that you look like a younger version of me."

There is nothing that could have prepared me for this. Nothing. I don't even know what to say, and I don't have to because Dr. Marks takes over again. Thank God she is here.

"So you suspected your husband and daughter were having intercourse, and you chose not to do anything about it?"

"She's old enough to make her own decisions."

"Mrs. Barnes, what are your next steps?"

"Next steps for what?"

"Next steps for your child."

"She's not really a child anymore."

"In the eyes of the court, she is still a child. I am asking if your husband will be removed from your household."

"I don't know. Y'all sort of spring this on me, and I need time to think. I am trying to get sober. I'm three days clean and that has been really hard on me."

Did you hear that? These last three days have been hard on her.

"Mrs. Barnes, Lilly has filed assault charges against your husband. Are you telling me that you need more time to think about whether or not he will continue to reside in your household?"

"Yes, that is what I am saying."

I switch my gaze from Dr. Marks to my mom. She looks bored with the conversation.

"I am ready to release Lilly from the hospital and I cannot allow her to reside in your home if your husband continues to live there."

I can't believe she's ready to let me go. My chest tightens at the thought of seeing Donnie again. There is no way I can go home. I feel some sort of attack coming on, but I focus on my breathing instead of giving in.

"What if I stay at Buddy's?" I blurt out. I don't know where the notion came from, but it sounds brilliant.

"I don't know..." Dr. Mark replies.

"Could she sign over her rights?" I ask. At this my mom perks up. I want to punch her, but I have more important things to handle right now.

"No, that would have to go through the court system and that could take a while. Lilly, you are ready to go; I really think your time is done here. I don't think it would be good for you to stay here for an extended period."

"What if I sign her out and they take her home?" my mom asks.

I should be upset that she doesn't want me. I should be upset that she has to even think whether she wants Donnie or me. But, the truth is, I don't care enough about her to be upset. I just don't care. She was out of my heart a long time ago.

I wait with bated breath as Dr. Mark thinks it over.

"Yes, if Mrs. Myers comes into the discharge area and if I can visually see you get into her car, Lilly, then yes, I will release you."

"How soon?"

She glances at her watch.

"It's only 10:00am, and we discharge at noon. Do you think you can gather your things by then?"

"What things? She didn't bring me anything." I remember all the clothes and the blanket Buddy's mom brought, but I don't correct the statement. My mom sits glaring at me.

"Do you think Mrs. Myers can get here in time?"

"Yes." I know she will. She would do anything for me, unlike my own mother.

"So, I have to sit here until noon?"

"Yes, Mrs. Barnes you need to remain here. There is a waiting room at the end of the hall."

My mother slams the door when she leaves, slamming the door on me, slamming it on our relationship.

"Do you really think I'm ready?" I ask. This is all happening so fast. I should have talked the first day; this would have been so much easier.

"Yes, I really do. You are going to be great," she says smiling at me.

"Can I still come and see you?" I suddenly feel desperate that I am losing her.

"No, but I know the perfect person to work with you. She is even better than I am. I really think you will have a lot of success with her."

I look down at the card she handed me: Dr. Miranda Daisley. It says she has an office here and in Austin.

"She works in two offices?"

"Yes, she runs her practice here and in Austin. Don't let that deter you, she is very good."

Chapter Twenty One – Lilly

I quickly gather the few belongings I have. I would like to say goodbye to Jane, but she isn't in the room. I hope she gets the help she needs. She seems like a really sweet girl.

I sit quietly in Dr. Marks office while she works. She lets me sit in here so I don't have to sit with my mom. She suddenly looks up and speaks.

"Lilly, what are your college plans? I know that you are going to graduate at the top ten percent of your class."

"I don't really have any. I wasn't exactly planning for the future." I laugh. See that – its suicide humor. Ha. Ha.

"Have you ever thought about being a youth counselor?"

"Um, no. Would they even let me do that? I mean, with my history?"

"Sure, of course they would. I have a therapist."

"You do?" I ask surprised.

"Sure, the daily struggle can get to all of us at times. There is no shame in having someone to talk to."

"What kind of counseling?"

"Well, you could do rape counseling. You could help other young girls who are in your position. By the time you graduate college you will be older and can give them sage advice. I could see you working with youths. I saw how you were with your roommate; you did a great job."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did."

"I was just trying to help her out."

"That's all counseling is, just trying to help people."

I never thought about what I wanted to do, but I like the idea. Not now. God, no, I couldn't help someone else now, but maybe later. Then I think, maybe I can help someone out, in an indirect way.

"Dr. Marks, do you remember my original roommate, Headley?"

"I believe so. She's not my patient, but I think I know her."

Then I fill Dr. Marks in on what I know. I feel bad telling on her. I'm sure she will hate me for it, but I think it's more important that she gets the help she needs. I can tell Dr. Marks is surprised and she asks me to explain to her again about the quarters and the weigh-in. Now I really feel like a tattletale. I hope they bring Headley back, but not before she gets to do her ice cream shoot.

I have logged in hundreds, maybe thousands of hours at Buddy's house, and I have never seen his mom look like this. She looks like death warmed over. Her eyes are puffy, maybe from crying although I can't be sure. Her hair isn't brushed, and she isn't dressed very well. Even Buddy's dad looks bad.

Not to be dramatic, but this is the reaction I hoped I would get.

Buddy is the only one who looks normal. He grins when he sees me and I give him my best megawatt in return.

While they are walking towards us, I whisper to Dr. Marks that they look horrible. I am worried she won't let me go home with these homeless looking people. She whispers back that they look like that because they love me. She is sure they had a difficult night.

My heart swells.

Dr. Marks takes Buddy's parents aside, and while I'm not sure what is said, I know that when they are finished Buddy's mom gives Dr. Marks a hug.

"Ready, Kiddo?" Mr. Myer's asks.

"Ready."

We all walk out to the parking lot.

My mom looks at all of us and then walks over to her car. No goodbye. No see you later. No sorry the man I married snuck into your bedroom and stole your childhood. Nothing.

And I'm okay with that.

Buddy shakes Dr. Marks' hand first, thanking her for everything. Buddy's dad does it next, and Buddy's mom hugs her again. They all pile into the car, and I am left alone with her on the sidewalk.

"I don't even know what to say. I mean thank you, obviously, but I feel like anything I say won't be sufficient enough."

"Why don't we just say that we will see each other later?"

"Will we though?"

"Of course we will. We can have coffee or something."

"Really? Are you allowed to do that?"

"Sure, you aren't my patient anymore, and we can all use another friend."

Shaking hands seems too informal after what I have been through with her, so I go in for a hug.

"Thank you," I say. "Thank you."

Chapter Twenty Two – Lilly

The car ride is silent. It's like no one knows where to start, or what to say first. Well, we are all old friends; surely old friends don't always have to talk.

It's not like the Myers have a spare room, and it's not like I would have stayed in one anyways. When I get into Buddy's room there are boxes lined on the back wall.

"I went to your house when Donnie was out. Don't worry; I made sure he wasn't home. I wouldn't have been able to control myself if I saw him."

"You got all of my stuff?" I ask. Surprised, and touched.

"Not all of it, but all of the things you normally wear."

I open the box that's on the top, and my underwear is the first thing I see. My face reddens, but I would rather him get them than not have any at all.

I spend the rest of the day with Buddy, cleaning his room and making space for all of my things. We only have two weeks of school left and I don't know what my plans are, but I may need to stay here for a while until I get on my feet. Our things look good together in his room. I don't have a lot of pink, so at least it doesn't clash.

We have always had sleepovers so I don't feel awkward climbing into bed with Buddy. Even though we are almost adults I still spent the night at his house all the time. I wonder why he didn't put it together that we stopped staying at my house.

I may never be able to put all of the pieces together. I think I will forever be finding out all the different ways this has affected me. All I know is that I don't want this to determine who I am to become. I never want to be identified solely by what Donnie did to me.

I always thought what I was going through should have been so easy for everyone else to see. I believed that everyone could see my shame, my truths clearly written on my skin, on my face, in my eyes. Eventually though, I will have to quit looking back. All I can do is move forward from here.

Mrs. Myers lets me and Buddy stay home from school the next day. We spend it lying around, watching tv, and him reading comic books, while I pretended to be interested. It's almost like nothing ever happened, like everything is back to normal, and, in a way, maybe it is.

At dinner none of his brothers say anything to me about my recent stay away from Bayberry and I am incredibly relieved. It's not like the topic is suitable for dinner conversation. Buddy's mom makes my favorite dish, and I thank her profusely. She shrugs it off like its nothing, but even something so small means a great deal to me.

Dinner plays out as usual. Jed makes a crack that his bed is bigger than Buddy's. Jed is the one that always messes with me. I've never thought he liked me in that way; he just enjoys bothering Buddy. I see Buddy's face flush, but it's too funny not to laugh. Even Mr. Myers laughs.

Chapter Twenty Three – Lilly

Buddy and I quickly develop a sleep routine. I don't know when it happened, but now in the mornings, I wake up in his arms. The first time it happened, we both looked uncomfortably at each other then went back to our respective sides of the bed.

The next night, I had trouble going back to sleep after a nightmare (stupid colonist trials again), and Buddy pulled me in close to him. I don't think he was awake; in fact, I think he pulled me in closer on instinct.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

My heart rate slowed down.

I felt warm all over.

And then I fell asleep.

I returned back to school and was pleasantly surprised when everyone was nice to me. I knew word had gotten around, this is Bayberry after all. Now, I hear people whispering when I walk by, but no one says anything directly to me. I predict that people are scared that I am going to freak out on them. I am, after all, the girl who just got released from a mental institution.

I really lucked out though because no one knows why I was there. I mean, they know I tried to kill myself, but no one knows why. At night, Buddy and I compare the different stories that are floating around.

One theory is because Buddy won't go out with me, but that is squashed when people hear that I am living with the Myers. Buddy and I sharing a bed with his parents' permission leads to the theory that I tried to commit suicide because I am so broken up about being a lesbian.

My favorite is that I am a mermaid. I have no idea who started this rumor, or if people really believe this, but it is the funniest thing I have ever heard.

Everyone knows the last week of high school is a joke for a senior. It's filled with half days and no homework. Before I know it, we are on our last day. It has all passed by so fast. It's amazing how fast it goes when you don't dread your every waking moment. I wonder if this is how normal people feel. I guess one day I'll find out.

This year worked out perfectly, school ends on Friday and graduation is on Saturday. I don't know if it normally works out like this, but I'm really excited.

I go through the standard cleaning out of my locker, saying goodbye to a few select teachers (those who will even look me in the eye), and do yearbook signings. I am pleasantly surprised at how many people want to sign my yearbook and vice versa. It's a little funny because a good 90% of the seniors are staying right here in Bayberry. It's not like we are never going to see each other. But I am a good classmate and sign the books, leaving the appropriate "have an awesome summer!" and "we made it!" comments.

There are a lot of end of the year parties tonight, but Buddy tells me has something better planned for us. I try to ask questions, but he shuts me down pretty fast. As soon as we get home he takes my hand and walks me to the backyard.

Our old tent is set up and I even see the extension cord running from the house. I follow it down to the inside of the tent, and it's plugged into our old small black and white TV.

"I found out Star Wars is on tonight, and I thought we could watch it."

"This is so awesome! Really. It's better than any party we could have gone to tonight."

"I had my mom pick up smores," he says. "I could try to make a fire."

"No, please don't. It's perfect this way. Let's do it exactly how we used to."

Even though it is still daylight we change into our pajamas and climb into the tent. Buddy's mom comes out every once in a while to check on us and to refill our snacks.

I feel like I have gotten one day of my childhood back. While this doesn't make up for lost time, it sure doesn't hurt.

Buddy and I spend the night laughing and retelling the same stories. No one brings up Donnie or my mom or Pleasentwood and, to be honest, for a while I just forget about the whole thing.

I wake up on graduation morning with Buddy's arm slung across my body. His other hand is tucked underneath my side holding onto my waist tightly.

We're still in the tent and it has gotten hot in here. It's only morning but I can feel the sun beating down. I don't remember this part from when I was a kid.

Buddy's arm doesn't bother me. It feels comfortable and inviting. I carefully turn to face him and am surprised when I see his eyes are open.

"Can't sleep?" I ask. I'm suddenly aware how close we are and I pray my morning breath isn't too bad.

"No. I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"How this is it. How this is everything."

"Everything?" I ask.

He pauses, and because I know his expressions so well, I know that he is trying to figure out if he should say what he is thinking out loud.

"Do you remember when we were 14 and we were lying down on your bedroom floor? You said, 'I wonder what the man I'm going to marry is doing right now.' We went back and forth with our guesses. I said, 'Maybe he is in college already.' You joked, 'Maybe he hasn't been born yet.' But, the truth is that all I really wanted to say is, 'He is lying beside you.' I wanted to grab you and tell you that I am right here. I wanted to shake you. I wanted to say it then and it would kill me not to say it now. The thing is, you are the best thing about my life. I don't know when it happened, but it's there, a constant, reverberating thing all the time. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe without you. I don't mean that in a creepy way, like I am obsessed with you. I just mean, well, I don't actually know what I mean."

He takes a deep breath and continues.

"I mean that you are my lungs. You are my heart. You are the reason why I wake up in the morning. I go to bed at night just so I can wake up and see you all over again. It kills me that I wasn't able to protect you. All I want is to make you happy. I never want you to ever hurt in any kind of way ever again."

My heart swells. I think of ten different ways to reply, but I can't get any of them out of my mouth. I lay there with his arm still around me, his hand tucked under my side.

Chapter Twenty Four – Lilly

Have you ever dropped a plate or a glass before? I think everyone has. There's that moment when it is falling, then there's that jerk reaction where you move your foot in the hope of saving it from pain.

In that second, you don't even think about how to move your foot, but, you just do. Sometimes it works and the item crashes to the floor and sometimes it doesn't work and you have to scream in pain. I guess the part that bothers me is how you move without thinking about it.

Because that is exactly what I do when Buddy goes in to kiss me.

I move back.

I didn't mean to. Actually, I don't even know if I meant to. I just know that was my first reaction, and the look on his face tells me it was the wrong one. It isn't just the look; it's how I feel too. I feel horrible. Every part of me regrets what I just did.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to move away."

"It's okay. You don't feel the same way. It was stupid for me to think that you would. You are this beautiful creature, and I'm this stupid guy who has been following you around for the past decade."

He starts to pull himself away from me and to leave the tent, but I grab his arm to stop him.

"No, Buddy. That's the thing - I don't know how I feel. You're my best friend. My best friend in the entire world, and I don't want to lose you. I never want to lose you. It's just I am so messed up from everything, and I don't even know if I can have that kind of relationship. I don't know if Donnie ruined me or not," I say.

"He didn't ruin you. And I'm scared too, but, it hurts so much to not be with you. I ache all time because all I want to do is kiss you. You're so lovely. All I want to do is hold you. We never have to do anything you're not ready for. I'm not going anywhere. I will never go anywhere. And if I do go somewhere, I'm taking you with me. I love you. And not the way that you love Little Women, I mean that I am in love with you."

He waits expectantly for me to respond, and I do.

I lean in.

And it is so much better than I thought it would be. Dr. Marks was right; Donnie hasn't ruined me. I still get to be my own person. I'm still me.

His lips are on my mouth, expectant, hungry even. I thought our first kiss would be light and hesitant, but this is so much more. I do my best to match him, to feed the hunger. I don't know what took me so long to do this. I feel foolish that we have wasted so much time.

I take a deep breath before I say, "So many of my smiles begin with the thought of you. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you, and when I thought I lost you when you saw Donnie in my room..." I trail off at this part because I don't know how to finish the sentence.

"I guess I'm just trying to say that I love you too."

After our kiss, we lie back down in the tent and alternate between kissing, laughing, and planning.

It's almost instantaneous that we start planning our future. I keep apologizing for wasting so much time. It's because of me that Buddy is behind on his post graduate plans. He tells me a small college in Austin accepted him, and he thinks he can still get in. I can see myself living in Austin, and I say so. It's actually pretty perfect because I remember that other therapist has an Austin office. It feels like fate to me.

"We have to tell your parents, right?"

"Um... don't get mad, okay?"

"Okay..."

"I heard my dad tell my mom that he thought I was finally going in for the kill."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I think they know. Everyone knows I'm in love with you."

"They do?"

"Yep, everyone but you had it figured it out. I'm glad you're so pretty because you're not very smart sometimes." And then he moves in for another kiss. I'm already getting used to it and I definitely don't flinch.

I don't think I will ever be over everything that has happened, and the truth is I'm not sure that I want to be. These things that have happened to me, these things that I have been through, are shaping who I am as a person, and that's okay with me. I used to think that I didn't have a choice in any of this, but now I understand that I have a choice in how I react to it all. I am strong.

I can get past anything.

My life is worth it.

I am worth it.

Epilogue

One more month left of summer. It passed by so fast. I spent it kissing Buddy. Lots and lots of kissing. We are getting to know each other in a whole new way, and I love it.

I got a job at our local burger joint and get sympathy tips from patrons. I made more money than a normal teenager would have. With his money and my money, we had enough to put down a deposit on an apartment in Austin.

We both have jobs waiting for us. I will be your friendly barista at a corner coffee shop. Buddy is working at a feed store right outside of Austin. I know, we finally get out of a small town and he still finds a way to feed animals for a living. It's one of the many reasons why I love him.

We both have enrolled into Austin Community College. I don't mind that it isn't the University of Texas; we can transfer later if we want to.

This is the plan I wanted before I tried to kill myself.

Only better.

It's better because I am better. I needed that trip to Pleasantwood.

His parents are thrilled, and they tell us that they always knew this day would come. In some ways, so did I. Buddy says he always knew and he always rubs it in my face that he loved me first. I think I love him more though.

I hope it's an argument we have until we are grey.

Donnie has been charged and is out on bail. He is currently living with my mom. She called yesterday to tell me she was five days sober. I didn't tell her that I am moving.

The car is packed and we are ready to go. Buddy's mom is crying, I am crying too. I cry a lot these days, but I cry for different reasons.

I cry because I am happy.

Effortlessly happy.

A Message

If you or someone you know is in a similar situation as Lilly there are many people who can help you. I know that it can be scary to ask for help, but know that these facilites keep callers anonymous and are free and open 24/7. You can get the help you need. You are strong enough to get through this.

http://www.teenline.org/

 http://yourlifeyourvoice.org/aboutus/Pages/default.aspx

http://www.teencontact.org/

http://suicidehotlines.com/national.html

 http://www.allaboutcounseling.com/crisis_hotlines.htm

About the Author

Kimberly Russell lives in Houston, Texas with her husband and dog, Fiona. The Truth about Lilly Barnes is her second novel. She has also written Between Balloons.

When she isn't writing she spends her time reading, baking, and figuring out ways to meet Jimmy Fallon. You can catch up with her at the following locations:

http://authorkimberlyrussell.tumblr.com/

 http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Kimberly-Russell/257750867586271

 http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5124933.Kimberly_Russell

https://twitter.com/#!/authorKRussell

