Suffocation.

I didn't go to school the next day, or the following day, or even the day after that. I curled up in bed and complained about fake aliments but I actually believed I had something wrong to me and my dad rushed me to the emergency room in the middle of the night because everyone thought I had an ulcer.

The doctors didn't find anything, and accused me of acting out for attention, causing my dad to schedule an appointment with Doctor Fuller first thing in the morning.

I haven’t been to Doctor Fuller's since I convinced my dad that I didn't need to talk to him anymore. That there was nothing to mention, I was in a good place. But now I'm not, so here I am sitting in front of the large man waiting for me to speak.

"Come on, Lennon," he urges me. "We've been through the hard parts; all you have to tell me is why you're here now."

"Because my dad thinks I'm acting out."

"And why's that?"

I shrug my shoulder. "I don't know, because I'm a hormonal, teenage girl and I have nothing better to do with my time."

"I see that you still have you sarcasm."

"It'll take more than depression to take that away from me."

"So you do think you're depressed?"

I roll my eyes, he was the one that was supposed to be diagnosing me, not me diagnosing myself. "If you watched your mom get killed, then those same people shoot at you and you see your entire life pass before your eyes, just out of reach for you to grab, then when the team of doctors manage to pull you from the brink of death so you're no longer teetering between life and death, are you moved to a different part of the country but it might as well be a different plant completely, do you think you'd be depressed?"

"I'd be more than depressed, I'd be suicidal."

"Yeah well I can't kill myself without hurting my brother more than he's already hurting, so I'm stuck in this hell for now."

I give up any conversation with Doctor Fuller after that. I wasn't in the mood for him to highlight my problems, when I already knew what they were. I was broken. I had my mother yanked from me too soon, my home pulled out from under me by my father, then when I had finally glued myself back together with the help of Graham, Bobby took him away from me. Only the worst part of it is that he agreed.

I know why he said okay. If I was in his position, I probably would have said yes too. And I didn't want Bobby to tell anybody, I didn't want Graham to get thrown into jail, I didn't those bars between us.

When I stepped out of the doctor’s office and into the waiting room expecting to see my dad, I found Bobby sitting there. I also hadn't seen him since that day. That embarrassing, life shattering day.

"Where's my dad?" I ask as I cross my arms over my chest.

"I called him and told him that I'd pick you up so he can play catch up with work."

"I'm so glad he cares more about playing catch up than the mental health of his daughter," I sneer.

"Your mental health is just fine. You're just acting like a child because you caught."

"I'm not acting like a child, and it's not because I got caught," I huff as we descend down the elevator to the main floor.

I would have stalked off to the car without Bobby, but I didn't know where he parked so I had to follow behind him, sulking to myself. Bobby opens the passenger door to his SUV for me but I don't bother to say thank you as I slide onto the leather seat while he shuts the door.

I should have known that Bobby didn't just volunteer his time to chauffeur me around so my dad could head into the city for work. I should have known that once we out of the compounds of the hospital, that he'd pull the car over on the shoulder of a deserted road and turn off the engine.

"I'm having a hard time figuring out what would possess you to engage in sexual activities with my best friend. And since he is dead, I have to ask you, what the fuck were you thinking?"

"You wouldn't understand," I say looking out the passenger window, avoiding his eye contact.

"Try me. I'm a pretty smart guy."

"You may be smart at some things, but you're completely stupid when it comes to how I feel."

"Everyone is completely stupid to how you feel, it's not just me."

"Graham wasn't," I muttered.

"Why was he the only one?"

"Because Bobby!" I shouted finally turning to look at him, choking on my tears. "He took the time to get to know me! Graham didn't look at me like I was a charity case or some lost and abandoned puppy! I was just Lennon to him. Not Lennon with the bullet holes in her and the dead mother and grieving brother, which you guys see me as!"

"I don't see you as a charity case."

"Maybe not you, or Frankie, or even Daphne. But to my dad and Denise, I'm a charity case. I hate it here, I don't fit in here. Graham made me feel sane, I felt like I belonged with him or that I was home."

"But you are home?" Bobby questioned.

I laughed, "No Bobby. This is your home, not mine."

Bobby gave up on trying to understand what was going through my head, or why I was so sad. To him, I, his sister, slept with his best friend. That was all it is between the two of us. And I knew that Bobby though we were a fling and I'd eventually grow up and find someone else, and Graham would find another string of ladies to manipulate. Only that wasn't it.

When Bobby gave Graham the ultimatum, the one that sealed our fate of not being together, the one that Graham agreed to. It was like watching him get shot. It was like witnessing my mom opening the front door and be gunned down. He was taken away from me, just like my mother was, and Bobby was the gunman. Only I knew my mother wouldn't show up walking down the corridors of my school, where Graham would, like a ghost I couldn't touch or speak to.

"Listen Bobby, you may think that I'm just acting out or that Graham was taking advantage of me, but that wasn't it. He made it hurt just a little less, and that was before we formed any sort of relationship," I told Bobby once we pulled into the empty garage.

"Did you guys have a relationship or was it just physical?" Bobby's brows furrowed.

"I love him, honestly. Graham was it for me."

"You don't know what was it for you."

"You started dating Frankie when you two were younger than me. Did you know that she was it for you?"

"That's different."

"Not really."

I got out of the car, and headed into the house, closing the door behind me. I didn't hear the door open or close again from the spot under my covers from my bed, so I assumed that Bobby had left; left me to my feelings and my broken heart.