Chapter 19 #2
How did I get here? The thought looped relentlessly, over and over.
How did I get here again? How did I let this happen?
I felt like I was spinning in place, dizzy from the repetition.
My life. My thoughts. Everything circled faster and faster until my stomach twisted.
Nothing felt familiar. Not the night. Not my body.
Not myself. I had been staring into mirrors lately, desperate to recognize the girl looking back at me.
I never could. She felt unfamiliar. Wrong.
A stranger. A stranger drowning in her own misery.
And that wasn’t even the worst part. I had dragged everyone else down with me.
Everything I had resented Holden for—every selfish act, every ripple of damage—I was doing the same thing. I was hurting people because I was hurt. I was terrifying them because I was terrified. I wasn’t just destroying myself. I was destroying everyone who loved me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. The words surprised me as much as anyone. My voice was muffled against my legs, barely audible.
“Blair,” Austin sighed softly. I didn’t know how he even heard it. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I lifted my head at that, needing to see his face. Surely he was lying. But when our eyes met again, I knew he wasn’t. His expression was open. Earnest. Almost painfully sincere.
“You don’t mean that,” I choked, the words scraping past the lump in my throat.
“Of course I do,” he said gently, tilting his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re—” He hesitated. “You’re sick right now. This isn’t your fault.”
My face collapsed again, tears spilling faster.
“I was so mean to you,” I said, shaking my head.
“I was mean to everyone. I was mean to Holden. I was mean to Cherry. I don’t want to be mean, but it’s like I can’t stop.
I feel like I’m drowning.” Another sob tore out of me.
“I feel like I’m drowning,” I repeated, my voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to swim.”
Austin’s expression crumpled at my words, his mouth pulling down sharply as if he were holding back something unbearable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know, Blair.” He swallowed. “It doesn’t matter that you were mean. Holden will forgive you. Cherry will forgive you.”
I nodded, wiping my face again. “What about you?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said immediately. Too quickly. “There’s nothing to forgive, Blair. You didn’t do anything to me.”
“You didn’t do anything to me either,” I said, the words tasting familiar. Cherry’s voice echoed faintly in my head as I said them.
Austin pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I should have told you.”
“I didn’t want to listen,” I argued softly. We both knew it was true.
“I should have made you listen,” he said, still frowning. He looked like he was carrying the same weight I was. Maybe not the same shape, but just as heavy.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. The question surprised us both. Austin let out a slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment, like he needed the darkness to find the right words. When he spoke again, his voice was raw.
“I wanted your love so badly, Blair,” he said.
“I don’t think you understand how badly.
You were the first person in a long time who made me feel alive.
” His throat bobbed. “When I was with you, I felt like someone new. Like someone who hadn’t lived through everything I have.
And I held onto that.” He opened his eyes again, looking straight at me.
“I was selfish. I was so selfish. And I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“I’m not the person you fell in love with,” I whispered. “I’m not Yellow.”
“Yes, you are,” he said without hesitation.
The certainty in his voice broke something open in me. Another sob tore out of my chest. “It was a lie,” I said, shaking my head through my tears. “I don’t even remember who she was.”
“You don’t have to,” Austin said gently. “You’ll always be Yellow. Even when you’re lost. Even when you’re drowning. You’re still Yellow, Blair.” He lifted his hands like he was about to reach for mine, then stopped himself, letting them fall back to his sides.
“How can you say that?” I asked. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he said quietly. “The way I love you isn’t only when you’re peace.
It’s not only when you’re easy or calm.” His voice steadied.
“I love you when you are pain. When you’re angry.
When you’re hurt.” He paused. “It wasn’t how you acted that made me fall for you.
It was you. All of you.” I shook my head, still unconvinced.
“Even if you don’t want anything to do with me,” he continued, “I’ll still love you.
I’ll still be here if you need me. I’ll be here to remind you that it’s okay to feel like you’re drowning. ”
His eyes held mine,unwavering. “It’s okay,” he said. “Because you do know how to swim. You’ve done it before. You’ve made it back to shore before.” A pause. “You can do it again.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I cried, finally giving up on trying to stop the tears. “I don’t know if I can make it back this time, Austin. I can’t see the shore anymore. The water’s too high.”
“No, Blair,” he said quickly, almost desperately. “Just because the ocean came in doesn’t mean the tide won’t change. It will. I promise.” His voice steadied as if he needed it to. “You just have to fight. You have to.”
“Can you help me?” I gasped, my chest burning, my breaths shallow and uneven. “Can you help me fight?”
I watched his eyes fill at my words. And then, finally, he reached for me.
I didn’t hesitate. I moved into him at the same time he pulled me close, his arms wrapping around me and drawing me into his chest. Another wave of sobs tore through me, violent and uncontrollable.
He didn’t say anything. He just held me tighter, grounding me as my body shook.
I cried against him for what could have been hours.
It really might have been hours. Time had stopped meaning anything.
He didn’t shift me when his shirt soaked through with my tears.
He didn’t try to fix anything. He only pressed his cheek against my hair and ran his fingers through it slowly, patiently, like he was anchoring me to the earth.
Eventually, the sobs dulled. They didn’t disappear, but they softened, turning into quiet, broken breaths. I didn’t move. I just breathed through my nose, exhaustion finally seeping into my bones.
My eyelids grew heavy without my permission. I tried to fight it. I tried to stay awake. But I couldn’t fight the way his hand moved through my hair, steady and rhythmic. I couldn’t fight how safe it felt to stop holding myself together.
At some point, I gave up.
And I fell into darkness.
Sunlight woke me.
I meant to open my eyes slowly, but the unfamiliarity of what my body was resting on snapped them open instead.
Panic surged through me in an instant. I wasn’t in Austin’s arms. I couldn’t feel the grass beneath me.
I wasn’t where I had fallen asleep. I was in a car.
I whipped my head around, though I didn’t really have to.
The interior gave it away immediately. Everything about it was too polished, too expensive, too unfamiliar.
This wasn’t my car. I turned toward the driver’s seat. Austin was there.
He was already looking at me. Staring, really. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept at all, but there was something else underneath that. Something tighter. Uneasy. Deeply uncomfortable. I couldn’t place why, and that made my chest constrict.
“What time is it?” I asked, though I didn’t wait for his answer. My eyes flicked to the dashboard. 9:13 a.m.
“Blair,” he said my name, and the way he said it only made my skin prickle.
“What happened?” I asked quickly, my heart beginning to race again.
I looked around the car, searching for context.
For familiarity. I expected my house. Or the empty road near the field.
Instead, everything outside the windows was wrong.
We were in the city. Parked in a lot beside a building I didn’t recognize. “Austin,” I said, sharper this time.
He reached over, his hand resting against my leg. The contact startled me, grounding and alarming all at once. “Take a deep breath,” he said gently.
“Why?” I demanded, searching his face for something solid. An explanation. A hint. Anything.
“Please,” he said. Just to appease him, I inhaled. It didn’t help.
“Can you take me home?” I asked, panic threading through my voice. Something felt wrong. Deeply wrong. I could feel it pressing against my ribs.
“No,” Austin said quietly. The word landed heavier than I expected. “No, Blair,” he repeated. “I can’t take you home.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice already breaking. I didn’t need to ask. I knew the answer before the word even left my mouth.
“Blair,” Austin said softly, “your mom and dad are inside. We wanted to let you sleep.”
The words felt unreal, like they belonged to a different conversation.
A different life. I scanned the building again, slower this time.
Something about it felt wrong. Not unfamiliar, worse than that.
Familiar in a way I didn’t want to name.
The shape of the windows. The dull neutrality of the exterior.
The way the parking lot was arranged too cleanly, too deliberately.
My stomach sank. I’d been here before. Not this exact place, but a place like it.
The sameness was the point. Buildings like this weren’t meant to stand out.
They were meant to blur together, meant to feel forgettable once you were inside them.
Meant to make it easier to disappear. My chest tightened, a slow, creeping pressure instead of a spike.
“Austin,” I said quietly, before I meant to. My voice sounded distant, like it was coming from somewhere behind me. “Where are we?”
He didn’t answer right away. That was enough.
The realization settled into me, heavy and unavoidable.
This wasn’t a detour. This wasn’t him taking me somewhere safe to rest. This was a handoff.
My fingers curled into the fabric of the seat beneath me as the truth slid fully into place.
He hadn’t taken me home. He’d taken me back.
“I want to go home,” I whispered. My eyes burned, the tears threatening again. I could feel them pooling, heavy and inevitable.
“You can’t go home,” Austin said, and this time his voice cracked. “You need to do this.”
“My parents can’t afford this,” I said quickly, panic spilling over itself as I tried to reason with him. “I don’t need this, Austin. I don’t. I don’t need to go back into a program.” I shook my head, the words tumbling faster and faster. “I can fight it. I can. I don’t need this. I don’t.”
“Blair,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “you do. You need help.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, even as my chest tightened. “I’m fine. This will bankrupt my parents. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to his hands, to his knees, anywhere but my face.“Your parents aren’t paying for this,” he said quietly. “I am.”
The words hit me like cold water. He’s paying? No. No, no, no. “No,” I said immediately, shaking my head hard, like I could physically refuse the reality of it. “I don’t need this, Austin. I don’t.”
He looked back up at me then, his frown deep and unmistakable. “Blair—”
“Please don’t make me,” I panicked, my voice shattering as I reached for his hand, gripping it like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
“Please don’t make me do this. Please. Please, Austin.
” My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps.
“I’ll stop. I swear I will. I’ll get better. I promise. Please.”
I was begging. And I hated myself for it. Austin looked back up at me, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe at the sight of tears spilling from his eyes.
“You need help,” he said, his voice breaking. “You need to be safe. It’s only two weeks, Blair, evaluation and stabilization. Just two weeks.”
“I’ll eat,” I gasped, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. “I’ll eat. I swear it. I will.”
“No, Blair,” Austin said softly, and he reached to open his door. Panic shot through me. I grabbed him, pulling him back toward me before he could move away.
“If you love me, you won’t do this to me,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. I watched them land, watched the way his face changed when he heard them. “You won’t make me. Please.”
Austin froze. Slowly, he turned back toward me. His eyes were so full of tears that I could see my own reflection in them, small and broken and desperate.
“I’m doing this because I love you,” he said quietly. “I would climb a thousand mountains for you. I would do anything. But it won’t mean anything if you can’t climb the mountains for yourself, Blair.”
I shook my head, my throat closing completely. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. My lips moved uselessly, shaping words that never made it into the air.
No.
Please.
No.
“Blair,” Austin said, and this time he was pleading too.
He reached for my face, placing his hands gently against my cheeks, steadying me, forcing me to look at him.
His thumbs brushed the tears from my skin, though they kept falling anyway.
“Please,” he said, his voice hoarse with pain.
“Trust me. Please, trust me. You have to do this. Trust me.”
I dragged a loud breath into my lungs, my whole body shaking as I tried to hold myself together.
“Trust me, Blair,” Austin whispered. “Even if it’s for the last time. Please. Trust me.”
I stared at him. The desperation in his eyes hurt more than anything else had. It cut into me, sharp and clean, like glass scattered across my skin. I didn’t want to hurt him. Not anymore.
The silence that followed was the heaviest thing I had ever felt. It wasn’t empty. It screamed. It pressed against my ears and filled my chest with every awful thing I was afraid of at once. It was the kind of silence that matters. The kind you don’t come back from unchanged.
And then I nodded.