Chapter 29
“How’s it going with Dr. Bramar, honey?” Mom’s voice cuts through the quiet as I pack the last of my things for tomorrow.
“It’s… going,” I mutter, eyes glued to the floor, trying to dodge the question.
She stops and glares, calm but sharp. “Don’t lie to me. You share your location with all of us. You have twenty-four hours to make an appointment– or I’m canceling your first semester. Don’t test me. I will drive you there myself.”
“Mom, I don’t need it! I’m fine!” I shout down the hall, frustration burning my chest.
Before I can even breathe, she storms back into my room, fury radiating off her in waves.
“Tell that to the lack of sleep everybody in this house has had because of your screaming in the middle of the night! The constant worrying, obsessively checking every corner, every sound. You haven’t left the house since you got home from the hospital, and you refuse to see your friends…
. who were attacked too! Get the fuck over yourself, quit acting selfish, and go see Dr. Bramar today, or you’re not going! ”
She’s never cursed at me before, not once in my life. I know – deep down, there’s no mistaking it –she is furious.
“Okay,” I whisper finally. “I’ll go.”
And I do.
Dr. Bramar doesn’t rush me. She listens, really listens, and when she tells me I have PTSD, it doesn’t feel like a weight.
It feels like someone is finally putting a name to the chaos in my head.
She says what I went through was traumatic.
That my fear makes sense. That my feelings are valid.
She also tells me something I don’t expect: that college might actually be safer than staying home.
That hiding makes me predictable. That living my life…
carefully, intentionally.. is not weakness. It’s survival.
So I pack.
“So this is it, huh?” Noah asks as I slide the last box into my trunk. “You’re really leaving.”
I pause, hands resting on the edge of the car. “Dr. Bramar thinks it’s the best option,” I say quietly. “At least Liam doesn’t know where I’ll be living, and my family will no longer be a target.”
Noah nods slowly, but I can see the worry etched deep in his face. “I don’t like the idea of you being far away,” he admits. “But… I get it.”
I meet his eyes. “I’m not running anymore,” I say. “I’m choosing myself.”
He exhales, then pulls me into a tight hug. “Just promise me you’ll call. A lot.”
A small smile breaks through. “I promise.”
As I close the trunk, the finality of it hits me. I’m leaving the town that broke me, and maybe, the place where I’ll finally start putting myself back together.
He turns over his shoulder and gives a half-hearted smile and turns around and walks back to his car.
“Alright… well, I’m off.”
I hug my parents tightly, tears soaking into my mom’s shoulder.
I’m terrified… bone-deep, breath-catching terrified…
but somewhere beneath it all, I know I’ll be okay.
I have to be. After a long, tearful goodbye with my parents and my brother, I load into my car and start the hour-long drive to my new home.
Every mile feels heavy, but also… hopeful.
A new chapter is unfolding, and even though my hands shake on the steering wheel, I don’t turn back.
This summer was a hell of a rollercoaster…
one I never asked to ride… but at the end of it, I found a version of myself I didn’t know existed.
Wounded, yes. But braver. More aware. Still standing.