Savin' Me

My breath caught in my throat, immediately regretting what I had said. Everything that I had said. If she was anywhere near the mental state I was, then I had just broken her into a thousand pieces.

Just the thought that I could have driven her to the point of insanity that I had made me start to shake with fear. No matter how hard I tried to calm my hands, I remained to look like I had Parkinson's.

"Shh," Dr. Ellison soothed, putting her hands over mine. Her eyes were soft and understanding as she looked into my eyes. "It's okay. I'm better. I'll always be a cutter, as will you, but I'm better. Little things don't make me reach for sharp objects anymore."

"I'm sorry," I muttered finally. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't be. It's natural that you're not dying to give me a whole bunch of information at the first visit." She glanced up at the clock for a second and took note of the time. "Well, our time is over for today, so I'll see you next time, alright?"

I nodded silently before rising from my seat and leaving. Darry was the only one waiting for me in the room outside. When he saw me coming, he rose to his feet, wiping his palms off on his pants.

"How'd it go?" he questioned, looking brighter than I'd seen in a while. I didn't have the heart to tell him what really unfolded, that I'd shot my mouth off only to have the explosion burst in front of my face.

So I lied. "It was...helpful."

He seemed to realize that I was lying, but both of us wanted the other to believe what I'd said, so he nodded. "That's good. You wanna go home now?"

"Please." I manufactured a grin to paste on my face, and we made our way across the parking lot. While we were inside, it had started to rain, and the cold droplets stung my bare skin. It was only then that I remembered that I had forgotten to bring a jacket to the therapist, as Darry had instructed me to do.

Why did I feel like a five-year-old?

It didn't take an exceptionally long time to get back to the house. Right when I stepped through the front door, I was pulled into a bear hug by Two-Bit.

"Um, hello," I greeted with a laugh, petting the top of his greasy hair.

"Hi! How was your therapist? Are you all better now? I bet you are, aren't you?"

I gave him a confused look until Dally spoke from behind him, "Don't worry 'bout him. He's rip-roaring drunk."

"Of course," I snickered. "He just wouldn't be Two-Bit if he wasn't, would he?"

Instead of an answer, I got nearly strangled by another hug. Though it was hard to breathe, the hugs that Two-Bit was administrating made me feel better, more loved. Just another step in the therapy.

Johnny was sitting on the couch, looking at me with those big black eyes of his. He looked like he hadn't slept well. "Hi," I said softly.

"Hey, everyone," Darry rushed, "I think there might be some food in the kitchen. Let's go get some!" He promptly shoved everyone into the kitchen, ignoring their cursing and promises of death. The whole exchange made me smile a little.

"Hey," Johnny finally responded, getting to his feet. He pulled me close to him gently, and it felt much better than those bone-crushing squeezes that Two-Bit had considered hugs.

"You look tired," I informed him once I pulled back slightly, running my thumb along the deep purple bruises that had formed under his eyes.

"I am," he admitted. "I didn't sleep well last night, worrying about you and everything. Your trip was alright, wasn't it?"

My stomach panged. Lying to Johnny was in an entirely different ballpark than lying to Darry. "Yeah, it was helpful."

Unlike when I'd said those words to Darry, Johnny sighed in relief and kissed me for a second. "Good to hear. Well, I gotta get to my job now, so I'll talk to you later."

"Job?" I burst out in shock. He had never mentioned a job.

"Yeah, I managed to snag one. I figured that if I was going to take care of you, then I should have some money or something."

My jaw hung open as I digested his words. "Johnny, you didn't have to-"

"I know I didn't have to, but I want to do this right." After he planted another sweet kiss on my forehead, he disappeared out the door. Eventually, I drew my eyes away from the front door and turned around to find Soda standing there.

"Hi," I whispered, nervous about this encounter. We'd barely spoken since the outburst at the hospital.

"He really loves you," Soda responded, nodding toward the closed door. I glanced at it again, as if trying to remember what it meant, before returning my gaze to him.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that."

We stared at each other for a second, tension thick in the air. It wasn't angry tension, more like the awkward kind. Memories rushed back, how he just as good as admitted that he had feelings for me, feelings that I might reciprocate.

At that second, a saying popped into my head. If you fall for someone when you're with someone else, go for the second one. If the first one had been the one, then you wouldn't have fallen for the second.

Was that the case here?

As if reading my thoughts, Soda caught my gaze again. "Don't break his heart," he ordered me before turning around and joining the rest of the gang in the kitchen, where they were whispering excitedly.

My eyes were staring at the carpet, each passing second making the design blurrier and blurrier. A tear dropped off my eyelashes, and I wiped my eyes quickly. Crying in a house full of boys was not about to happen, not now.

Anger, hurt, and confusion pumped through my body, but I refused to give in.

I promised to myself that I was going to stay strong.