I know that a lot of you guys ignore the author's notes at the end of the chapters but this one is actually so important, so please read it. 

Chapter 16 | Your Heart's Like, Freaking Out

“I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax and not try to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I’m talking about, I’m sure. Don’t worry…you will someday.” ― American Beauty

On the morning of the very last day of 2013, I wake up really early (well, 8 o’clock, which isn’t really all that early at all but considering the fact that I’m on break, it’s pretty early) thanks to the dumb pre-set alarm on my iPhone that’s currently blasting Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds in my ear. One of the terms that Dr. Fontana had for granting me early release from that wretched psychiatric ward was that I had to show up for every single one of our sessions from here on out. 

He apparently called my mother last night to inform her of our little agreement and let’s just say that she was not too happy with him for having me released against her wishes. The two of them talked for a really long time though (about me, I assume) and eventually, I guess he got her to see his side. Anyway, they scheduled for me to come in and see him at 9 a.m., instead of around 4 o’clock-ish, which is when I usually go and see him. So, that’s the reason I’m up so early, so that I can go to this dumb session.

I sit up in my bed and then disable the alarm with a loud, tired sigh. I’m extremely tired because I didn’t get back home from my date with Graham until around 1:00 and then Aspen demanded that I tell her all about it, so that took a while and I didn’t get to sleep until like 3:00 this morning. I seriously consider just backing out on my promise to Dr. Fontana but then I decide not to because he didn’t have to get me released yesterday but he did anyway, so I should be a little bit grateful and keep up my end of the bargain.

Throwing back my covers, I get out of my bed and then make my way out of my bedroom, to the bathroom, where I quickly brush my teeth and wash my face before going downstairs. Like I said before, I am a self-proclaimed pig and I eat basically whenever I’m offered the opportunity, which is why I’m heading towards the kitchen, Honestly, I don’t know how I’m not the size of Russia—that’s how much junk food I eat. Before the Flynn thing though, I used to play volleyball and take dance classes, so I guess that probably had a positive effect on my metabolism or something.

Downstairs, I realize how quiet the house actually is, which is saying a lot because usually, this house is ridiculous noisy. I’m assuming my mom’s at work (she’s been going to work a lot earlier and coming home a lot later than usual, which is a little bit fishy and weird but I don’t really care enough to question it). I’m pretty sure Beckett is still asleep because whenever he doesn’t have class, he doesn’t get out of bed until around 1 in the afternoon. Then there’s Aspen, who is still staying with us, and I assume she’s sleep.

I walk into the kitchen and see the back of a person sitting down on the barstool and instantly, my heart starts racing and I nearly shout in surprise. I don’t though when I realize that it’s just Beckett’s dad. I know he’s my dad too but I prefer to address him as either ‘Tom’ or ‘Beckett’s dad’ because he’s really not a dad to me at all. I mean, biologically, he is my father but emotionally, he’s a stranger. I don’t even know what he’s doing here in the house though because I’m pretty sure my mom wouldn’t just let him move back in. I really want him to go away because he hates me and I hate him and my life is hard enough as it is. I don’t feel like dealing with him right now (or ever, actually) so I decide to just stop by Starbucks for breakfast on my way to Dr. Fontana’s. I turn and try to quietly tip-toe out of the kitchen but I’m guess I don’t do it quietly enough because he speaks.

“Sawyer, what are you doing here?” He demands and with an annoyed sigh, I turn around and see that he’s spun around on the bar stool and is now facing me with a grimace.

“I live here,” I snarkily remind him, crossing my arms across my chest because that’s just what I do when I’m upset or annoyed. “What are you doing here, Tom?” I query back.

“I live here,” Tom mimics me, which I think is supposed to be funny but it really isn’t. It’s just annoying. “What I meant was, what are you doing out of the psych ward?” He asks.

“I was released,” I explain, walking over to the breadbox and taking two slices of bread out, popping them down in the toast. If I have to talk to him, I might as well be eating too.

“By who?” He demands to know, raising his eyebrows in question and raising his mug (which is most likely full of Vodka or Hennessey or something) to his mouth, taking a sip.

“Dr. Fontana,” I reply, going over to the refrigerator and pulling the jelly out along with the butter while I wait for my toast to pop.

“Who?” Tom repeats as if he didn’t understand me. Maybe he didn’t though—I’m pretty sure alcoholics can’t process normally.

“Dr. Fontana,” I reply, enunciating in a really exaggerated and dramatic way. “He’s my psychiatrist,” I inform Tom then, sighing.

“Psychiatrist?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything that I say? Because if so, this conversation is incredibly redundant,” I murmur in reply.

“And what makes your psychiatrist think that he has any kind of rights to make that decision? I am your father- it was my choice.”

“Tom, you haven’t been in my life for six whole years,” I remind him. “You can’t just come back and try to run my life,” I tell him.

“I get that you don’t like me Sawyer and that’s okay because the feeling is mutual,” He says, taking another sip of his drink. “But I’m your father and you’re going to respect me.”

I’m about to reply but before I can, Beckett walks into the room with a sleepy look on his face, looking like he just rolled out of bed, which I assume he did. I really don’t want to fight with his dad in front of him because I know that he and Tom has a super good relationship and Beckett’s really excited about him finally getting out of prison. That because Tom didn’t terrorize him and call him horrible names like he did and still does to me though, so it makes sense. My toast pops up out of the toaster, so instead of replying back to Tom’s stupid authoritarian comment, I just walk over to the toaster and grab my toast out of it, dropping the pieces on a plate before spreading jelly over both slices of bread.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Beckett greets with a yawn, walking over to the refrigerator and taking the orange juice out, taking a swig straight from it.

“I was just asking Sawyer what her plans for New Year’s Eve are now that she’s apparently out of the psychiatric ward,” Tom evasively lies to Beckett then.

“Right,” I respond, deciding to just play along so that I can go ahead and inform both of them that I’m going to Graham’s party tonight. “I’m going to a party.”

“What? Whose party?” Beckett demands in his oh-so-annoying big brotherly way.

“Graham’s,” I state simply before pouring myself a glass of orange juice, about to go back to my room.

“Graham? Who is Graham?” Tom wonders, looking at me with a questioning look.

“Graham’s her boyfriend,” Beckett grumbles. “Even though she’s way too young to have one,” He adds.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I reply, rolling my eyes at my brother. “He’s my friend,” I explain, even though I owe absolutely no explanation whatsoever to his dad.

“Your friend that you kiss,” My brother replies then and I think he just does it to try to tease me, which is really dumb.

“Do you really think you’re mentally stable enough for a boyfriend?” Tom asks in a really condescending kind of way.

“Please don’t play the Concerned Parent Card, Tom. It doesn’t suit you at all and I don’t like pretenders,” I say to him.

“You know, Sawyer, I really don’t even think you deserve to go to a party tonight. In fact, you’re grounded,” Tom says.

“Okay, sure, Tom, whatever you say,” I laugh in response because obviously, I’m not going to listen to him. I really don’t think what he has to say even matters.

“I am serious, Sawyer,” Tom calls after me as I walk out of the kitchen and make my way back up the stairs to my room. Obviously, I hear him, but I don’t reply.

In my room, I eat my two pieces of toast quickly before leaving the room again, this time going to the bathroom for a quick shower so that I can hurry up and just head out to Dr. Fontana’s. I don’t want to be late because he’s like…weirdly punctual, Dr. Fontana is, and seeing as how he did the nicest thing ever for me yesterday, I don’t wanna upset him.

After a fifteen minute shower, I get out and wrap a big, fluffy, white towel around me before dragging my hairbrush through my wet hair a few times, to get some of the tangles out. Usually, I take my showers at nighttime, so I bring my clothes here in the bathroom with me because I mean, everyone in the house is awake at night and to walk around in a towel seems a little bit weird. It’s still really early though and I can hear Beckett and Tom still chatting it up downstairs, so I’m pretty sure I can quickly make it back to my room.

However, when I open the door, about to make my sprint back towards my bedroom, I see Brett standing there partially nude (he’s only wearing boxers) and I instinctively yelp.

“Brett!” I squeal awkwardly, impulsively clutching my towel closer.

“Yeah?” Brett replies, running his fingers through his blonde hair.

“What’re you doing just standing there?” I screech, clasping on to my towel so tight that my knuckles turn red. Obviously, it isn’t going to fall but I’m just really paranoid, I guess.

“Well, I was about to come in and use the bathroom but then I realized that someone was in there, so I waiting for you to come out,” He nonchalantly explains then with a yawn.

“Okay, well, bye,” I mumble before walking past him, en route to my bedroom with a beet red face because that was just so incredibly awkward.

“Wait,” Brett calls after me, which makes sighing very loudly in my head. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’d really prefer you didn’t but if you just absolutely have to, can you wait until I’m dressed?” I plead.

“Oh, okay, sure,” He laughs and then walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I’d like to think that I’m not as afraid of him as I used to be, but I still don’t like him.

I go back into my bedroom and lock the door behind me before walking over to my closet to find something to wear. I’m not really planning on doing anything at all today, aside from going to see Dr. Fontana and then going to Graham’s party tonight, which is good because that means that I don’t have to dress up just yet.

I towel off pretty quickly before slipping on a bra and a pair of underwear and then get dressed in a pair of slim fit skinny jeans with tears at the knee and thigh, a white V-Neck and a sweater that says ‘More Issues Than Vogue’ across the front, which isn’t necessarily true for me but I like wearing it anyway because it’s cute and oversized. I pull on a pair of Sperry’s and then braid my hair in a fishtail before grabbing my phone and car keys and leaving my room, making my way down the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going, Sawyer?” Tom asks me and this time, he’s sitting on the couch, watching the early morning news.

“I’m going to see my psychiatrist, Tom,” I explain with an annoyed sigh (man, I’m so sigh-y this morning) before walking to the door.

“Did you miss the part where I said you’re grounded?” He queries, pausing the TV and looking at me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Did you miss the part where you killed a man and abandoned this family for six years? Because that’s when I lost respect for you.”

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose, Sawyer,” Tom states, rolling his eyes. “I made a mistake—I’m a human. Humans make mistakes.”

“A mistake is bleaching your colored clothes in the laundry, Tom. Driving drunk, hitting a person and then leaving the scene is not.”

“Look—” He starts and I know that it’s going to be just another lecture and I’m just really tired of hearing Tom’s voice, so I interrupt.

“I’d love to stay and chat, I really would, but I’ve got an appointment so I guess I’ll see you later,” I tell him, walking out of the house.

I make my way down the driveway, which is slightly iced over because I guess it snowed and iced and stuff some more overnight. The driveway is super crowded, but thankfully, my car isn’t parked in front of someone else’s, so I can just pull right out. There’s Tom’s car (I really don’t know how or even where he got a new car from fresh out of prison, but he did), Brett’s car (I have no idea why he’s here and never seems to go home but I really wish he’d go away), Aspen’s car, Beckett’s car and mine too. Then when my mom is home, that makes it even more crowded. We have a garage but for some oddball reason, no one is parked in there right now.

The pavement is slippery slick with black ice and seeing as how I’m pretty much the most graceless person in all of America, I’m prepared to slip and fall flat on my face before making it to my car. Surprisingly enough though, I remain vertical. When I get to my car, I slip my seatbelt on before pulling out of the driveway and slowly driving down the icy road, heading towards Dr. Fontana’s office. It’s only 8:45-ish right now and it isn’t far away, so I think I’ll make it there on time.

When I get to Dr. Fontana’s office building, I park in front of the doors and then turn my car off, about to get out and go inside. When I see a terrible familiar figure walking out of the building though, I don’t. I watch intensely as Flynn walks right past my car and across the icy parking lot, over to where his obnoxiously large, fire-truck red Silverado truck is parked. I saw it when I pulled but a lot of people in Andover drive fancy pick-up trucks, so I didn’t even consider it being Flynn.

I glance up in the rearview mirror, just so that I can make sure he isn’t trying to like, break into my car and stab me in the neck or something. Maybe my mom was right—maybe I do watch too many Lifetime movies. It kinda seems like he doesn’t notice me though, Flynn, I mean, and if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge my presence, which I’m obviously not complaining about. It’s just a little bit weird and unusual because ever since he got back to the States, he has taken every opportunity he’s had to scare and / or threaten me.

Flynn unlocks the doors of his truck and climbs into the cab of it, closing the door behind him. He starts his car up and suddenly, his icy blue eyes lock with mine in the rearview mirror, which makes me think that yes, he did recognize my car when he walked by a second ago. I guess he just didn’t want to make a scene though because the police station is only a few minutes down the road. A mischievous grimace crosses his face and immediately, I cower, tearing my eyes away from his and stating ahead. Shortly thereafter, he speeds out of the parking lot and down the road. When Flynn is gone, I take a few baited breaths and tell myself to not get all worked up over something that’s probably nothing.

After I’ve convinced myself that Flynn being here was just a freak coincidence—maybe he started talking to someone, which would make sense, seeing as how he’s a deranged psychopath—I get out of my car and walk into the building. I sign in at the front desk—I don’t know what the point of doing that is but Dr. Fontana told me to do it when I come in to talk, so I do. I get on the elevator after signing in and head up to the floor where Dr. Fontana’s office is. When I reach it, I get off the elevator and make my way down the hall.

“Look who actually showed up,” Dr. Fontana says as I walk into his office and sit down. “And on time, at that,” He adds, looking at his clock.

“Well, I did promise you that I would be here on time every single day that I’m supposed to be here from here on out,” I remind him, sighing.

“That you did,” He agrees then with a nod, picking up his clipboard and pen.

“Why’re you in such a good mood?” I wonder, noticing his chirpy disposition.

“I’m always in a good mood,” Dr. Fontana states. “And I’m supposed to ask the questions, you know.”

“I know,” I assure him. “But I mean, you’re like, even peppier than usual, which is saying something.”

“Well, if you must know, my divorce was finalized this morning,” He explains.

“I didn’t know that you were divorced,” I reply in response, which is the truth.

“That’s because I wasn’t until this morning,” Dr. Fontana tells me. “And also because we’re supposed to talk about you—not me.”

“Well, I don’t have anything to even talk about today,” I inform him matter-of-factly. I mean, I just talked to Dr. Fontana yesterday.

“Well, then we can start with the basics and work our way up to what we discussed yesterday,” He suggests.

“Okay then, sure,” I agree with a small sigh of appeasement as I push a loose lock of my hair behind my ear.

To be completely honest, I don’t want to talk about what I told Dr. Fontana yesterday at the psychiatric ward—my feelings for Graham and why I have a hard time trusting people and my issues with my father and all of that stuff about Flynn. It’s just so incredibly difficult for me to open up to people, especially about intense stuff like that and I don’t want to do it again. I mean, I know for a fact that he won’t make me talk about it but there’s just something inside of me that doesn’t like disappointing Dr. Fontana. I guess it’s because he’s kinda like the father figure Tom never was.

“Okay, so how’re you doing?” He asks, starting off with his customary question.

“Well, I was doing great up until about five minutes ago,” I tell Dr. Fontana then.

“What happened five minutes ago?” Dr. Fontana queries.

“I saw Flynn outside when I first got here,” I mumble then.

“Flynn? You saw him here?” He questions, giving me a confused look.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a small nod. “He was coming out of the building.”

“And he didn’t say or do anything to you?” Dr. Fontana queries, writing.

“Nope, he just got in his car, looked at me for a second and left,” I state.

“That’s strange,” He murmurs. “When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

“Um, probably, like, on or around Christmas, I guess,” I obliquely reply.

Obviously, I’ve spoken to Flynn since Christmas. When he showed up at the psychiatric ward just a few days ago, I spoke to him. Well, mostly I cried and whined a lot because I’m a big baby but whatever. Dr. Fontana doesn’t need to know that though. It isn’t that I don’t trust him or anything—he’s my psychiatrist, of course I trust him—it’s just that I don’t want him to feel inclined to  tell my mother about it and I also already know exactly what his response would be.

He would more than likely just scold me like he does whenever I miss one of our sessions without calling first. Then he’d tell me that I should have told someone on the staff or someone else and I just don’t want to hear that. In my defense though, it isn’t like I kept it a secret—I did tell my brother.

“Do you think that he’s going to try to hurt you again?” He questions. “Is that why you have the anxiety attacks when he’s around, do you think?”

“Yes and no,” I reply, crossing my left leg over my right leg and lightly tapping my foot against the carpeted floor. I get nervous when I talk about Flynn and tapping my foot helps calm me down.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Dr. Fontana asks me then, writing my response down before looking over at me again.

“Like, I don’t think he’ll try to physically hurt me again, no,” I explain, shaking my head. “At least, not like he did at the party.”

“And what makes you think that he won’t try again? He got away with it once, why would he not get away with it again?” He asks and I know he’s playing Devil’s Advocate.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll try again,” I say. “It’s just that I wouldn’t be anywhere near as dumb about it as I was last year. I’d go directly to the police this time.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dr. Fontana notes, writing my response. I think that there’s more that he wants to say on the subject but I don’t think that he’s legally allowed to say it.

I mean, my mother literally pays him $1,250 per week (so, like, $5,000 per month) to listen to me talk about my problems and try to aide me without really telling me what I should do. Well, that isn’t his legit job description and he does a lot more than just that but I think you get what I’m saying.

Dr. Fontana isn’t my life coach or my own personal motivational speaker or anything of that nature, so he can’t really offer his advice. Well, he can but he’s not supposed to try to persuade me one way or another with my life choices, if that makes any sense. That’s why he usually just says stuff like “that’s a good idea,” or something to that effect. He’s very vocal about how he hard he ships the Grawyer thing though. That being said, I know that he’s gonna bring the date up.

“I know that you don’t want to talk about it and since it’s New Year’s Eve and whatnot, I’ll just ask you one last thing about him and then we can move on,” He says.

“Okay,” I reply, breathing a sigh of relief. I really detest talking about Flynn or thinking about Flynn or anything that has to do with Flynn Decker, so it’s a nice thing.

“You mentioned the other day that you’re afraid of him,” He reminds me and when I nod, showing that I remember saying it, he adds, “Do you fear for your safety?”

“I haven’t felt completely and totally safe ever since I learned that Flynn was back in the States,” I truthfully admit with a nod. “That’s a part of the reason I don’t like being alone,” I tell him then.

“That’s not okay at all,” Dr. Fontana frowns. “I’ll have the security cameras rolled back and I’ll find out what he was doing here,” He swears. “Now, what’s the other part of that reason?” He asks.

“As to why I don’t like being alone?” I wonder and when he nods in response, I lean back in my chair, thinking about it for a second. “When I’m alone, my mind can wander and I don’t like that.”

“So, when you’re with other people, your mind doesn’t wander?” He follows up and I subtly glance at the clock that hangs from the wall. I don’t have much longer before I can leave, thankfully.

“Not really,” I deny, shaking my head. “Because when I with others, I can usually just focus on what they’re talking about. When I’m alone though, my mind wanders back to that night,” I state.

Dr. Fontana nods in understand and then he proceeds to write my words down. I’m tempted to ask him what exactly he’s writing and why he writes it all down but I know he won’t say, so I don’t.

“Switching gears now,” He says once he’s done a few minutes later. “How was your date with Graham?” He wonders.

Told you he was gonna bring it up.

“It was really great,” I truthfully say.

“What’s that’s great,” Dr. Fontana responds. “What’d you guys do?”

“We went to this Italian restaurant in Beverly—Alessandra’s,” I explain. “And then after that, we went and saw these really amazing fireworks and then we went to his beach house for a little bit.”

“Young love is a beautiful thing,” Dr. Fontana informs me with a small grin.

“It isn’t love, Dr. Fontana,” I reply, rolling my eyes at my weird psychiatrist.

“Alright, whatever helps you sleep at night, Sawyer,” Dr. Fontana laughs.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Is this too much?” I ask Aspen as she walks into my room a couple of hours later, dressed in her barely-there shimmery silver dress and matching heels. “I feel like this is too much,” I mutter.

“It isn’t too much,” She assures me, walking to my bed and scooping Zoe up in her arms. In case you don’t remember, Zoe is Aspen’s super cute puppy who lives here since Aspen moved in.

“But are you sure?” I wonder, staring at myself in my full-length mirror, trying to decide if I should just change.

“Sawyer, I am positive,” Aspen laughs. “You look hot and I’m sure Graham will think so too,” She informs me.

“Is my brother still here, do you know?” I ask. “Because if he is, he’ll stab me before he lets me leave in this.”

“I know, which is why I sent him to Vivian’s to pick me up a copy of this dumb Harlem Renaissance book that I’m supposed to be reading for school,” Aspen explains, lightly patting Zoe’s head.

“But Vivian’s is in Boston,” I remind Aspen, not understanding why she wouldn’t just ask him to go to the local bookstore instead of driving all the way to Boston just to get her a book for school.

“Exactly,” She chimes, pushing a lock of her freshly-straightened blonde hair behind her ear. “By the time he gets back, we’ll already be in Beverly and at Graham’s party,” Aspen explains then.

“Ooooh,” I draw out, finally getting her little master plan. “That makes a lot of sense,” I reply then with a nod.

“I know,” Aspen replies with a proud grin. “Anyway, are you ready? Because he’s probably on his way back.”

“Yeah, I think I’m about as ready as I’ll ever be,” I decide with a nod and a small sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go downstairs and fill Zoe’s food and water bowls, so after that, we can leave,” She states, leaving.

Originally, Graham was going to come pick me up and we were going to go to Beverly together for his party but we decided to just meet up there. It’s already a quarter until 10 o’clock and the party started right around 9 o’clock, I think, and obviously Aspen and I didn’t want to be the very first ones to get there, because parties are ‘extra boring’ at the beginning. At least, that’s what Aspen told me. Sienna is already out there though, in Beverly with Graham, because she was helping his safe-proof his beach house so that nothing of value (flat screens, computers, pianos, etc.) would get broken. Piper is going with us though and she’s downstairs with Jason.

I was actually pretty surprised when she called me a little while ago and asked if she and Jason could ride down to Beverly with Aspen and me for the party. I was surprised because a.) the two of them have been fighting so much lately, so I didn’t think that they would be up for partying together and because b.) Jason has a car and so does Piper, so I’m not quite sure why they’d want to ride with Aspen and me, seeing as how Jason and Aspen hate each other more than anything else.

Anyways though, I got to get myself ready for tonight, which is such a rare thing for me, because usually, my friends use me as their mannequin. Well, Aspen insisted on doing my hair, so I let her do that but I did my own make-up and picked out the dress. The dress is Aspen’s though because I’d never get away with owning something so…out there. She told me that I could have it though because I looked better in it than she does, which I doubt but I’ve never seen here wear it, so I guess I’ll never know.

The dress is sleeveless and deep royal blue in hue. It has thick straps but it’s kind of low-cut, so it does show some cleavage. Not a lot though because I don’t want anyone (mostly just Graham though because I don’t really care about anyone else’s opinion of me) to get the wrong idea. The main thing about it though is that it’s short, which is why I know that if Beckett were home right now, he’d never let me out of the house wearing it. I’m not quite sure how many inches above my knees it stops but let’s just say that that dumb fingertip rule that they enforce in like, middle school (you know, where your dress / skirt / shorts have to go past your fingertips when you hold them at your sides) is definitely not in accordance with this dress. The back of the dress is pretty daring too because the back is low-cut and dips all the way down, exposing my lower back. It has a series of thin straps across the top though and they cross each other, making an ‘X’.

I’m also wearing a pair of black platform boots. They’re really fancy and I found them in the back of my closet and I remember wearing them once or twice post-Hurricane Flynn. They’re really cute because they’re peep toes and they have this adorable little zipper on them. Even though the heel is pretty tall though, I’m still going to wear them because 1.) They’re super cute and 2.) They’ll make me a lot taller and closer to Graham’s lips, which I plan on kissing a whole lot tonight.

I decided when I was on my way back from Dr. Fontana’s a couple of hours ago that tonight, I’m going to tell Graham about my past. Like, I don’t like talking about it but he told me about his awful past and I did tell him that I’d tell him about mine. Besides, if we’re gonna be doing this dating thing, I want him to know. That’s the whole point of dating someone, isn’t it? To get to know them better and whatnot before you actually start and exclusive relationship with them? So, yeah, I’m gonna tell him. Unless I chicken out but I’ll try not to.

I usually keep on the adorable elephant necklace that Graham gave me on Christmas but tonight I’ve traded it out for heart locket necklace. It’s just that the one that Graham got me looks like it was a lot more expensive than this one and I didn’t want to risk anything happening to the one he gave me, but I’d get over it if I lost this one. I have on a simple pair of diamond earrings that my granddad got me as a seventeenth birthday present a few months ago. I’ve got on a few spritzes of Wonderstruck by Taylor Swift on too because that perfume seriously smells so amazing. My hair is styled pretty simply—Aspen curled the ends, kinda, so they’re slightly wavy and I just left it down. My make-up is light too—just some mascara, eye liner and foundation and that’s it.

“Sawyer Annabelle, if you don’t get down here in the next five seconds, I’m coming up there and I’m dragging you downstairs,” Aspen suddenly calls up the stairs then.

“Okay, okay,” I call in response with a light laugh. I grab my iPhone off of my vanity along with my car keys before leaving my bedroom. “There’s no need to be violent.”

“There was a dire need to be violent,” She playfully argues, running her fingers through her hair before adjusting her tiny hot-pink dress. As I’m sure you’re realized by now, we live in Andover, Massachusetts, which is, you know, in New England, where it is incredibly cold this time of year. Despite this fact, Aspen is so tan that if you didn’t know here, you would most likely mistake her as being a Californian native or something. Obviously, she goes tanning a lot. I’m not that pale but I’m way paler than her because I tan a whole lot less often than she does. That seems a little bit irrelevant but it’s actually not. I say that to say this; her hot-pink dress contrasts with her tan skin and she obviously looks amazing, which is really just not fair at all because she’s too perfect.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I inform her. “Where are the lovebirds at?” I wonder, glancing over at the couch that I last saw Piper and Jason sitting on together a little bit ago.

“The lovebirds are outside either arguing or making up but I’m not sure which one,” She tells me in response.

“I really wish they’d just get over their issues,” I sigh sadly. “They’re such a cute couple,” I say, which is true.

“I personally hope that she kicks him to the curb like the piece of garbage that he actually is,” Aspen nonchalantly announces. “Anyway, we can leave now, yes?” She asks.

“Yep,” I confirm with a nod, following her out of the front door. My mother isn’t here and neither is Tom but I’m slightly positive that the two of them aren’t actually together. I haven’t really had the chance to talk to my mother about what’s going on with her ex-husband but we really need to have the conversation. Like, I just don’t understand why she’s letting him stay here since the two of them are divorced and obviously not in love anymore. Hopefully she’ll tell me that she’s just trying to be a Good Samaritan though and is just letting him stay until he finds his own place.

“I guess they’re making up,” Aspen notes once we walk outside and see Piper and Jason graphically making out there on my front porch like two incredibly horny wildebeests.

Jason and Piper instantly jump away from each other and it’s just a really awkward situation. The four of us walk over to my car—I get in the driver’s seat because I’m the DD (designated driver) tonight and every other night because I don’t really drink. I mean, I’ve had a few sips of alcohol in my life but I’m such a lightweight and I like being able to consciously make my own decisions and remember what those decisions were the next morning, so that’s why I don’t drink that much, if ever. Aspen, on the other hand, gets incredibly wasted and sometimes so does Piper. I don’t really know Jason’s drinking preferences though but I’m sure he won’t get too trashed. At least, he better not because I will not look after three incredibly drunk people all night.

After about twenty minutes of driving—I guess I just drive a little faster than Graham or something because yesterday, it took us about half an hour to get from Andover to Beverly—I pull into the driveway of Graham’s beach house and turn my car off. The good thing about being friends with the party host is the fact that you get an amazing parking stop. Graham and Sienna’s cars are parked here in the garage too but the rest of them are parked all around the perimeter of the huge house. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched One Tree Hill but if you have and you’ve made it to Season 7, then you’ve seen Clay’s beach house. Graham’s reminds me of his only it’s not quite as…glassy as Clay’s is.

The four of us get out of my car and make our way up to the front door, going inside. There really aren’t that many people out front, which isn’t surprising at all because like I said, it’s December in New England, which means that it’s freezing outside. There are a few stoners our there though along with a few drunk people, which makes sense, now that I kinda think about it. Inside the house, Jason sees some of his soccer team friends and he leaves us three girls and goes over to talk to them. I think it kind of annoys Piper but she doesn’t actually comment on it. They really need to just stop being so difficult. They’re obviously in love and they’re being so stupid. If I were in love, I’d cherish it—not fight with the person that I’m in love with over petty little dumb things.

“It’s about time you guys got here,” Sienna’s voice shrieks excitedly from behind us, causing all three of us to turn around and see our friend standing there with a red solo cup in her hand.

“Yeah, we would’ve been here sooner, but Sawyer is literally the most indecisive person in the entire world,” Aspen states matter-of-factly and then I roll my eyes at her in faux annoyance.

“Oh! Speaking of you, Sawyer, Graham told me to tell you to find him in the pool room when you get here,” She informs me, taking a sip from whatever liquid she’s got in her red solo cup.

“There’s a pool room here?” I wonder incredulously, only I have to kind of shout it because the volume that the music is at is ear-shatteringly loud. Right now, that dumb #Selfie song is on.

“Yeah, it’s like, right down that hallway and it’s the last door on the right,” She states.

“How come he wants me to meet him in there?” I ask curiously, raising my eyebrows.

“He’s in there with some of his friends and I think that he wants to introduce you to some of them or something,” Sienna shrugs. “Oh my gosh! This is one of my favorite songs—let’s dance!” She exclaims as #Selfie goes off and Sex by the 1975 comes on. That one sounds more like something that Graham would have playing at his party though since he’s into that Rock music.

So, Sienna, Aspen and Piper hurry off to the makeshift dance floor, which is littered with sweaty teenagers graphically grinding on each other, and I make my way down the hallway and away from all of the crazy chaos, following Sienna’s directions. I hear the faint murmur of guys talking but I don’t hear Graham’s voice amongst them, I don’t think. When I reach the slightly cracked door, I raise my fist and lightly knock on it because I’m just so awkward and I don’t know if I should just walk on in. The door is cracked though so I don’t think it’d matter if I just went in but still.

“Come in,” A voice (not Graham’s but a male voice nonetheless) calls and that’s what I do. I twist the knob and walk in the room and then there’s like, eight guys looking at me and it’s weird.

“Erm, hello,” I awkwardly greet them, giving a weird wave and a forced smile to the gawking guys. “Um, have any of you seen Graham?” I question, looking around the room, not seeing him.

“He was here just a second ago,” One of the brown-haired boys, who’s smoking what looks like a joint from where I’m standing, tells me. “I think he should be back soon though,” He explains.

“Okay then,” I reply, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. “Well, can you tell him to like, text me or something when he gets back?” I don’t want to be the only girl in here with all of them.

Mentally, I applaud myself for being able to speak a full thirty or so words to that guy without getting incredibly nervous and breaking out. I think that Dr. Fontana’s gonna be really proud of that.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” The same guy replies with a nod, blowing out a smoke ring and then taking a drink from his plastic red cup. “What’s your name?” He queries, giving me a curious look.

I open my mouth to tell the guy my name but before I can, the door swings open and I feel an arm wrap loosely around my waist. “There you are,” Graham says lowly, grinning down at me then.

“Here I am,” I chirpily confirm, looking up at him with a small smile. “Sienna told me that you wanted me to come and find you in here,” I state.        

“Yeah, I did,” Graham replies with a nod. “I just had to go handle a situation though,” He explains. “People were trying to have sex in my bed.”

“That’s very disturbing,” I reply with a shudder. That’s one thing I’ve never understood—why someone would hook up in someone else’s bed.

“It was a pretty horrendous thing,” He agrees with his arm still around my waist. “Anyway, I wanted you to meet some of my friends,” He says.

“Okay then,” I respond with a small giggle and the giggle is so misplaced and I feel kinda stupid afterwards but Graham just makes me giddy.

“Guys,” Graham says then, getting the attention of his eight or so male friends in the room that’re either playing on their phones, drinking, smoking or playing pool on the large billiard table in the center of the room. “So, this is Sawyer and Sawyer, these are the guys—Eric, Joe, Vince, Michael, Lucas, Drake, Jacob and Halden,” He introduces us briefly, nodding to each of the guys as he says their names. I really hope that he doesn’t expect me to remember all of their names though because I can tell him right now that that’s just not going to happen. I have a really bad short term memory, so I have trouble remember stuff like that. I always have and I’m slightly positive that I always will. It’s really weird though because I have a pretty good long term memory.

“Wait a second,” Halden—he’s the guy that spoke to me a second ago—says, putting his joint in an ash tray and standing up, walking over to us. “She’s your girlfriend?” He asks Graham then.

“This is Sawyer,” Graham reiterates to his friend then but he doesn’t actually confirm nor does he deny that I’m his girlfriend, which as far as I know, I am not, because he hasn’t asked me out.

“The Sawyer that you never stop talking about?” Halden asks, smirking at Graham and I think that he does it because he’s trying to tease Graham or something but Graham just glares at him.

“Do you know any other Sawyers, Halden?” Graham asks his friend.

“Well, no, I guess not, but you—” He starts but Graham cuts him off.

“Then this is her, dumbass,” He nonchalantly informs him friend then.

“I don’t understand,” Halden tells him. “She’s way out of your league.” He informs Graham and I ignore the urge to verbally disagree with him. I am most definitely not out of Graham’s league.

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy,” Graham sarcastically states. “Anyway, we’re gonna get out of here now, so I’ll see you later,” He adds before leading me out of the pool room.

“Is Halden your best friend?” I wonder, glancing up at him as we walk down the long hallway together and Graham casually moves his arm from around my waist and grabs ahold of my hand.

“When he’s not being stupid and annoying, yeah,” He confirms with a nod. “He’s stupid and annoying a lot of the time though,” He adds.

“I know what you mean,” I say. “Aspen, Piper and Sienna are the exact same way. Well, about you and me, anyway,” I tell Graham then.

“What about you and me?” Graham questions, clearly curious as to what my friends think.

“They really want us to be together and I’m pretty sure they won’t be content until we are.”

“What a coincidence?” He grins, casually rubbing his thumb across our intertwined fingers.

“How is that a coincidence?” I question with a light laugh, briefly looking up at Graham then.

“Because I want that too,” He clarifies. “For us to be together, I mean,” Graham elucidates.

“Have you always been quite so blunt and straight-forward?” I ask him with a heavy blush.

“Yeah, basically,” Graham confirms then with a chuckle. “Life’s too short to not say what’s on your mind.”

“You know, I think that you should give up on becoming a pro footballer and just become a philosopher.”

“A philosopher,” He repeats and when I nod, he says, “Why would I be a philosopher?” Graham asks.

“Because you're just very philosophical, that’s all,” I respond which is something I’ve noticed about him.

“Alright then, if you say so,” Graham appeases me as we walk into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” He asks me, walking over to the island where there’s this huge blue cooler.

“No thanks, I’m good,” I deny, leaning back against one of the counters and running my fingers through my hair. “I’m the designated driver,” I inform him. “If you want to though, I don’t mind.”

“I’d prefer to stay sober when I’m talking to you,” He replies, pulling open the cooler and taking out a bottle of water before taking a sip from it. “I think we should dance. Do you wanna dance?”

“I am actually the worst dancer in the world,” I warn Graham, leaning up from the counter. “But if you want to, then sure.”

“You are so self-deprecating, it’s ridiculous,” He informs me before grabbing my hand and leading me to the living room.

We go into the living room then and our conversation kind of just falls flat because of the fact that the music is playing way too loud for us to talk without screaming at one another. Like I said, I’m not the greatest dancer in the world and the fact that I’m in six inch heels and a skin tight dress doesn’t really help that much.

It goes pretty well though and I think we both really get into it because about halfway through the song, my back is pressed to Graham’s chest and torso and he has his hands wrapped around my front, resting on my hips. I’m kind of grinding on him too but nowhere near as hard or as graphically as the couples surrounding us. I mean, some of them could literally be mistaken for having sex instead of dancing because that’s how intense it is.

“You know,” Graham says in a low voice with his lips lightly brushing against my ear. “That dress is very distracting,” He informs me.

I could come up with a witty response but I don’t take the few seconds that it would require me to think of one. Instead, I spin around in Graham’s arms and loop my own arms around his neck, pressing my lips into his. Graham’s reaction is immediate and I feel him grin against my lips as he places one of his hands at the small of my back and presses me closer to him so that we’re now actually pressed against each other.

As Graham tangles his hand in my hair—which is something he’s done every time we’ve kissed, for some reason—my heart goes into overdrive and starts pounding in my chest. It’s a good pounding of course but it’s still pounding and it’s pounding really hard and I think he feels it or something because he kinda laughs lightly against my lips.

“What’s wrong?” I mumble against his lips.

“Nothing,” Graham assures me, capturing my bottom lip in between his teeth and lightly nibbling on it. “Your heart’s like, freaking out.”

“Shut up,” I grumble in embarrassment because clearly, he can feel my ridiculously overexcited heart beating in my ribcage right now.

Graham and I stand there kissing in the middle of his beach house with some crazily vulgar rap song playing for a couple of minutes before his tongue glides across my lower lip and since I’m not stupid and this would be the third time that this has happened with us, I know exactly what he’s asking for. Granted, the first time it happened was when I was in the psych ward and Jenny busted into the room and made Graham leave.

Then the second time was when he walked me up to the door after our date and Beckett butted in and started being his annoyingly obnoxious self. I’m slightly positive that there’s no one here at this party right now though who cares if Graham and I make out, which means that there’s literally nothing that can stop it from happening.

I part my lips slightly and Graham’s tongue darts in, mixing with mine. The funny thing to me (well, it isn’t really funny but whatever) is the fact that I’ve only shared a few kisses with Graham and they were all closed-mouth kisses. I mean, that isn’t the funny part, that’s just the fact of the matter. The funny part is that Graham’s closed-mouth kisses are perfectly perfect enough to make me go weak in the knees and fill my hear with rainbows and butterflies and unicorns and glitter. We’re actually making out right now though and I’m way past the point where my heart feels like it’s filled with all that. Right now though, it feels like I’m like, 30,000 feet in the air, skydiving out of a plane and into a huge field of rainbows and butterflies and unicorns and glitter.

“What’s the matter?” Graham queries about two minutes later when I abruptly pull my lips away from his.

“Nothing,” I truthfully reply with a small sigh, shaking my head. “Um, I have to tell you something. Can we talk?” I ask, remembering the promise I made to myself earlier—to tell him the story.

“Um, yeah, okay, sure,” He confirms with a nod, running his fingers through his hair with a slightly confused (and incredibly adorable) look on his face. “Where do you wanna talk at?” He asks.

“Would it be too forward of me to ask to go to your room?” I query, looking up at him curiously. I’m not trying to insinuate anything by that at all but I just think his room would be a quiet place.

“No, not at all,” Graham denies, shaking his head and grabbing my hand again. “C’mon,” He says, leading me through the swarm of people and upstairs to the second floor of the beach house.

I know that it probably looks like we’re about to go and hook up or something but that is definitely not the case. I won’t even be surprised if that’s a circulating rumor when we return to school in a few days though. Graham leads me down the hallway hand-in-hand before stopping in front of a door and pushing it open. He gestures for me to go in first, which I do, and then he follows me in, shutting the door and turning the light on.

The room has a pretty simple set-up, I notice, which makes sense, seeing as how he doesn’t even live here. There’s a king-sized bed with blue bed coverings pushed against one of the walls and there’s also a flat screen TV, a desk, some beanbag chairs and a short couch thing. I know there’s a proper term for it but I don’t know what it is.

“Is everything okay?” Graham wonders and I can tell that he’s seriously confused as to why I randomly broke off our perfectly amazing make out session.

“Yeah,” I nod, nervously chewing on my lower lip. “So, you remember the other day when I was in the psychiatric ward and you told me about your past?”

“Yeah, I remember,” He tells me with a nod, walking across his room and sitting down on his bed, patting the spot next to him for me to sit down, so I do.

“Well, you said that you wanted to know what happened to me and I told you that I would tell you and I think that I’m ready to do that now,” I decide then.

“Yeah?” Graham asks curiously, raising his eyebrows and giving me an incredulous look.

“Yeah,” I nod with a small sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “But you have to promise me something first,” I inform Graham matter-of-factly then.

“Okay, anything,” He agrees. “What is it?”

“You have to promise that no matter what that after this story, you won’t look at me any differently,” I state. “Because I really like you and not many things in my life are constant,” I inform him.

“My childhood was about as fucked up as they come,” Graham reminds me. “I don’t think that I’m in any position to look at you differently because of your past but okay, I promise,” He states.

“Okay then,” I reply, breathing a sigh of relief. “Ah, I don’t really know where to start.”

“The beginning might be nice,” Graham suggests.

“Right, erm, okay,” I sigh, a little bit nervous. I’ve actually never told this story before. Not to my mom, not to Dr. Fontana, not to Sienna, not to Aspen, not to Piper, not to Beckett, not to anyone.

I mean, of course my mom, Dr. Fontana, Sienna, Aspen, Piper and Beckett all know what happened—well, they know to an extent, anyway. I’ve never just sat down and told the entire story to anyone from start to finish. Dr. Fontana is probably the one who knows the most about what happened that night and that’s just because he was the one I felt most like I could tell.

Obviously, I knew that I could tell my family and my friends but I also knew that they’d treat me like a ticking time bomb that was gonna detonate at any minute. Dr. Fontana doesn’t do that though, which is why I told him. Even he doesn’t know the full story though. He knows the basics but that’s it. Like I said, it’s just so hard for me to open up to people, which is why telling Graham is a huge deal.

“You do know that I didn’t tell you about my childhood just so that you’d tell me about your situation, right? I mean, that was kinda part of why I did it but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“No, I know that,” I tell him, twisting a lock of my hair around my finger—it’s one of my many nervous habits. “But since we’re like, dating now, I just thought that you should know,” I inform him.

“Well then okay, I’m all ears,” Graham replies, turning to face me. He readjusts his position so that he’s sitting Indian Style (or crisscross or whatever you wanna call it) in his bed and facing me.

“Okay,” I sigh, copying Graham’s motions and readjusting my position so that I’m sitting the same way he is. Well, not exactly the same way because I’m wearing a dress but I’m still facing him.

I think about it for a few minutes, trying to decide where to start. Like I said, I’ve never really told the entire story to anyone from start to finish. It’s a long story though, so I could start anywhere.

“So, I guess I’ll just start with Flynn,” I decide. “He and Beckett had been best friends for about as long as I could remember. I’m pretty sure they were best friends even before I was born, so it was a pretty lengthy friendship.

"Anyway, since they were best friends, Flynn was almost always over our house. Weekdays, weekends, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Beckett’s birthday, his birthday, my birthday—Flynn was there at our house for it all. His mom was (and probably still is) the biggest bitch in the world and his dad was (and definitely still is) a workaholic, so that’s why he would always be over. He was so nice to me though, which is why I didn’t really mind his company that much.

“Like, whenever I was really young, like around seven or eight, Beckett and Flynn would always ride their bikes down to the arcade or the skating rink and I’d always want to go with them but Beckett never let me. One day though, Flynn saw how upset I got about it and from that point on, he made Beckett being me with them whenever they hung out, even though Beckett definitely didn’t want to.

"And then when I was a little bit older—thirteen or twelve, probably, and was just learning how to drive, Flynn would give me his car keys and let me drive around town in his car, which was a pretty big deal to prepubescent Sawyer. Sometimes he’d help me with my homework too and just nice stuff.

“So, flash-forward a few years later to October of 2012, which was obviously last year. I was sixteen and Flynn and Beckett were still best friends. I’d known Flynn for my entire life and not once had he ever given any legit reason to not trust him. So I did, trust him, I mean. I thought that he was my friend, you know, since he had always been nice and friendly towards me. I realize now what a dumb assumption that was though.

“The thing is, when I was sixteen, I was a completely different person than I am today. Pretty much every Friday night, I was out partying and drinking with Aspen and Sienna—not really Piper though because she never really was much of a party girl, which is beside the point.

"Anyway, usually I went to high school parties but on this particular night—Halloween—Beckett and Flynn (who were sophomores in college, at the time) were going to their frat house’s Halloween party in their frat house on campus. I was supposed to be going to somebody from school’s party but when Flynn invited me to the college party, I obviously said yes. Beckett was annoyed by it and he told me that college parties were way too wild for me, so I need to not go, but I did anyway.

“Beckett was right—the party was crazy. Like, crazier than all of the high school parties I’d ever went to. There were legit strippers and booze and all of these exotic drugs and just a bunch of crazy stuff. Aspen and Sienna didn’t come to that party with me, they went to the high school Halloween party, so I was basically all by myself.

"It wasn’t so bad though because there were a lot of really cute guys there, so for most of the night, I just danced with them. I drank too but not really that much because my mom would’ve killed me if I would have come home even a little tipsy.

“So, I think it was around like, midnight when I finally got tired of dealing with all of the crazily horny guys there, trying to get me to have sex with them. I had no idea where Beckett was and I really didn’t feel like looking for him, so I didn’t. I went upstairs to the bathroom and when I came out, I hear shouting. I immediately placed the voice as Flynn’s—you can do that surprisingly easily when you’ve known someone for sixteen years. I found Flynn in his room and he was just really upset and annoyed and since I thought we were friends, I went in to see what was wrong.

“He told me that he’d just gotten off of the phone with his parents and that they were super pissed off at him. He was pretty much failing out of college since he hardly ever showed up for class or anything. So, they cut him off, at least, that’s what he told me. They cut his access to his trust fund and a few days before, he’d gotten a letter from the college administration telling him that he’d lost his full-ride scholarship and was cut from the football team.

"Basically, his whole life was going downhill, so I could understand why he was mad. He’d been drinking—I could smell the Tequila on his breath—but he wasn’t actually drunk. A little bit tipsy, maybe but definitely not hammered.

“I tried to comfort him, you know, to be a good friend and for a little while, it seemed like it was working. He’d stopped pacing the room and punching the walls and breaking things, so that was progress. When he finally calmed back down to his regular self, I was about to leave and go back downstairs to either find another guy to dance with or maybe just play beer pong or something but then literally the last thing I ever expected to happen happened.

"Flynn kissed me. It was…weird, to say the least, mostly because unlike most girls in my situation would have, I didn’t have a crush on Flynn—I never did. In fact, I kinda thought of him as a cooler, nicer older brother.

“So, I pushed him away because there was no way in hell I was going to sit there and make out with my brother’s best friend. Like, how cliché. The thing you have to understand about Flynn though is that he doesn’t like rejection. He loathes it actually. I think he was pretty surprised about it because he has a lot of charisma and he can sweet talk almost any girl in the world into bed, so he obviously wasn’t used to be rejected. Needless to say, he didn’t take it well.

“I was about to walk out of the room after I pushed him away but he grabbed my arm—that’s how I got that scar that you saw on our date—and he slammed me against one of the walls in his room and he kept kissing me. He pinned me to the wall and obviously, he weighs more than me, so it was basically impossible for me to get away from him. The struggling made him even more upset than he already was though, so I just let him do it. Kiss me, I mean. I figured that just a kiss wouldn’t really mean anything.

“Then it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. He picked me up and carried me over to his bed and that’s when I really started freaking out, for obvious reasons. I felt so powerless and weak because I couldn’t make him stop. It didn’t matter how loud I yelled or how much I struggled because Flynn had a response to every scream from me and that was a slap in the face from him. I think it’s pretty obvious what happened from there. Through the entire ordeal though, he just keep trying to justify it but I mean, you can’t.

“’It’s just me, Sawyer,’ and ‘If you’d stop struggling, it’d stop hurting,’ and just a bunch of stuff like that. He just kept saying that kind of stuff over and over again. When it was over, he just left. Went back downstairs and kept partying and drinking like nothing even happened. 

"Before he left though, he told me that if I ever told anyone, especially my brother, he would make my life a living hell, which he did. I laid there crying for at least a good hour and a half before I finally got up and got dressed.

“After that, I left the party. I couldn’t find Beckett, so I just left without him. I’d rode with him though and he had his car keys, so I caught a taxi cab back home. The day after was a Saturday, I believe and I didn’t talk to anyone. I locked myself in my bedroom and I didn’t come out for the entire weekend. Not to eat, not to use the bathroom, not to do anything.

"School resumed on the following Monday and I went, just because my mom’s a stickler for school and never lets me miss a day unless I’m sick or something. So, I went to school and I quit the volleyball team and I dropped out of the Art Club and withdrew my stuff that was going to be in upcoming art show.

“On Wednesday of that week after school, I saw Flynn for the first time since the party—he was at my house with Beckett and they were playing video games. He said ‘hi’ to me and pretended like he didn’t do what he did. I was incredibly depressed about it, which I think makes a lot of sense.

"I’d stopped doing homework and starting cutting class and ignoring my friends and just a lot of stuff like that. On Friday, a week after Halloween, the depression hit an all-time high. I felt so lifeless and so tired—the kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix, if that makes any sense to you at all.

“My mom was working late, as usual. Beckett and Flynn were hitting up another party. I was at home alone and even though Sienna, Piper and Aspen were continually calling and texting me, I ignored them because I just wasn’t in the mood for them or for anything, really.

"At around midnight, I went into my mom’s bathroom and I found her old pain medication that she had gotten like a mother earlier from when she had knee surgery. I know it was stupid and I know I shouldn’t done it but I didn’t know what else could make all of the pain go away, so I took some. By ‘some’, I mean ‘a lot’. Then I went to sleep.

“I woke up about four days later and I was in the hospital. The doctor told me that I’d overdosed but that Aspen had come over, worried about why I wasn’t answering my phone or replying to her texts or anything and she found me. She called 911 and I got to the hospital just in time for them to pump it all out of my system or whatever and they ruled it a suicide attempted.

"That’s why my mom got so crazy and overprotective about my most recent OD, because she thought that I tried to kill myself again, but I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I’m nowhere near as sad now as I was.

“After that, my mom sent me to North Carolina were I had to go to a drug rehabilitation facility thing. It was like the psychiatric ward except a million times worse. I stayed in North Carolina for two months and then they decided that I was no longer ‘a danger to myself’, so my mom sent me a plane ticket and flew me back home.

"I went back to school in the middle of January and it was just so terrible. People looked at me like I was crazy, which I guess was a reasonable thing to think. I mean, I was the girl who’d just spent two months in a facility for trying to kill myself after I was sexually assaulted and beat.

“Before I’d even left to go to North Carolina, my mom had hired Dr. Fontana as my psychiatrist and mental health specialist. When I was in North Carolina, I had to Skype him every single day under surveillance and talk about my feelings and whatnot.

"I was so depressed and angry about it though and I didn’t want to be treated like a psychopath, so I took about a month to even start talking about it. So, when I came back home, I actually had to start visiting his office. At first, I went every other day for two hours but now I go every day aside from weekends for just one hour.

“As for Flynn, he went to jail for a month. After my overdose was ruled a failed suicide attempt and I was released from the hospital, I went to the police and made a report. They couldn’t really do anything about it though because I had no hardcore proof. No video, no witness, no nothing.

"So, I went back to the hospital and they did their special tests but they couldn’t prove that Flynn had sexually assaulted me. Apparently, the, erm…semen doesn’t stay in the body very long, so if I’d made the report like, the day after it happened, then that would’ve been proof and he have faced more than a couple of years in prison.

“The bruises from the slaps and grabbing and all of that were visible though and so that’s what my lawyer built a case upon. Flynn was charged with misdemeanor battery and sentenced to six months in the county jail. His father is the district attorney though, so after Flynn served a month in the county, his dad was able to get him out.

"When he was out, my lawyer’s had a restraining order drawn up to keep me protected. He left the country, Flynn did, he went to Bangladesh to study abroad, but I kept the restraining order in tact because I knew he’d come home eventually.

“And so that’s what happened,” I inform Graham in conclusion except my voice cracks because I’m kinda crying now. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I don’t like talking about Flynn, mostly because the entire situation is just so unfair and unjust and it makes me really sad and emotional. “That’s why when we first met, I was kind of standoffish,” I croak through my tears. “Because I just have this really irrational fear of people—more so guys than girls, but still,” I explain as more tears stream down the side of my face. I know that I probably look absolutely disgusting now because I can feel the mascara running down my face but make-up is most definitely the last thing on my mind right now.  

There’s just silence then and I’m nervous because I’m looking at Graham but I can’t really read his expression.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I inform Graham with a sniffle. “I should just get over it, right? I mean, it was a year ago.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking at all,” Graham tells me, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna tell you to get over it,” He explains. “I’m gonna help you get through it.”

Then Graham grabs my hand and motions for me to get off the bed, which I do. He readjusts his position then and swings his legs back over the bed so that his feet are planted on the floor. He pulls me closer to them then and down onto his lap before wrapping his arms around me tightly, rubbing my back in a really soothing way. I decide then that I’m tired of trying to strong because I’m not strong at all and pretending like I am is really taking a toll on me. So while Graham is rubbing my back, I lean my head down on his shoulder and wrap my arm loosely around his neck, while I wait for the tears to stop.

Author's Note: Hello beautifuls! So, I'll do the regular end-of-chapter thing here in just a second but first, I have something that I just really need to say because it's been on my mind for the past two weeks and I'm getting so sick of dealing with it, so I'm gonna address it here.

For the past few weeks or so, I've been getting ridiculous amounts of hate and criticism on this site. "You need to take criticism better," and "You're such a flake," and "Why does  [insert name of one of my main characters here] do that? That's so stupid," and "That makes no sense," and "You're really rude to your readers," and just a bunch of other stuff like that and honestly, I am so sick of it. 

Here's the thing, I'm not J.K. Rowling, I'm not John Green, I'm not Sarah Dessen. Basically what I mean is: I'M NOT A PROFESSIONAL WRITER- I DON'T DO THIS FOR A LIVING. WRITING IS SIMPLY A HOBBY OF MINE. I am sixteen years old- obviously I don't take criticism well. Like, you can't just walk up to someone on the street and slap them and then get upset when they slap you back. Translation: You can't just leave incredibly rude comments (and yes, I do see them all) and get upset when I reply back to them.

I can either be one of those Wattpad writers who ignores all of her comments or I can be one who actually takes the time to read and reply to them. I prefer to do the latter, which is why I do. Also, just because I'm writing right now, doesn't mean that writing is what I plan to do for a living, so you really don't have to comment every single time I make a little grammar mistake like not using a semi-colon or something like that.

About 75% of the comments I get now-a-days are ones just criticizing my stories and I just think that's so ridiculous because like, if something bothers you that much, just keep moving on. It's pretty simple. It's so ridiculous and annoying and I've just really been thinking about taking a hiatus from Wattpad or deleting stories or even my entire account. I most likely won't delete my account though but if I keep getting all of this hate, I am seriously going to just go on a hiatus for a little bit. I don't know for how long- maybe a month or two.

I know what a lot of people (Americans, anyway) are thinking. Like "Oh, freedom of speech- I can say whatever I want." And yeah, that's true, you do have the freedom of speech but that doesn't give you the right to just verbally attack via comments. Obviously, I can't control what you comment but if you could refrain from the following, that'd be really nice:

1. Please don't comment about a tiny little grammar mistake that doesn't take away from the story at all. If I make a grammar mistake, more than likely, it's something small like using the wrong form of a word or something. It's not that I don't know the difference, it's just that my chapters are usually 4,500 - 10,000 words for this story- obviously I can't catch all the mistakes. Also, I have to try to write the chapters pretty speedily because people like to yell at me when I don't update.

2. Please don't leave terrible comments directed towards my characters just because they do something that you wouldn't do or that you disagree with. Or if they hate a certain thing (TV show, movie, song, singer, celebrity, whatever) that you just so happen to love. My characters are not me and we're obviously all entitled to like and dislike whatever we want. 

3. Please don't comment every single factual thing about your state if I just so happen to use the state you live in as the setting for a story of mine. Like, if I say in this story (which is set in Massachusetts) that it's not all that cold, please don't comment being like "IT'S SUPER COLD IN MA, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT." Because that gets really annoying to read. Also, please realize that I'm not charting a flight to every single state that I set a story in just to observe it for factual things like that. It's a fictional story, after all.

4. Please don't comment saying how "boring," you find the story. Because if you find it that boring, just stop reading. And please don't leave a comment saying you're going to stop reading because I don't really need to know that- you can leave if that's what you wanna do.

5. If it's Sunday, please, please, PLEASE do not continually comment on the last uploaded chapter telling me that it's Sunday. Like, I own a phone, I own a calender, I own a laptop and I own a TV- I know what day it is. I don't intentionally miss the updating days but I don't think you guys understand how much stress school puts on me. Like, every single night I have about 3 hours of homework so by the time I finish all of that on the weekdays, I just pass out from exhaustion basically. Then Friday night rolls around and I plan the chapter, usually. Then on Saturday, I write most of it and try to finish it up Saturday. I work extremely hard on these chapters though and I want them to be good because I know that if they're not, people are gonna leave terrible comments. So, if a Sunday comes and passes and I haven't updated, trust that I will update either the next day- Monday or Tuesday. I'm going to really try to not miss the update days anymore though because that apparently just really grinds y'alls gears and I get a bunch of hate about that, which is no surprise, but yeah. 

Sorry if this sounded mean (I'm really not mean, I don't think, it's just that the comments that I've been getting are seriously offensive and I really cannot even deal with them) but I really felt the need to get out there. Like, I'm a sixteen year old girl- I'm sad enough as it is- I really don't need people yelling at me, calling me "sassy" or "sarcastic" or "rude" or a "bitch" and other stuff like that, just because I defend my characters. Hopefully, all the hate and critisicm tones down pretty soon but if I miss like, two updates in a row for this story- assume I've decided to take my hiatus.

That being said, I'll do the normal stuff.

1. This chapter is dedicated to Luminarzz because I loved her comment last chapter the most! 

2. Thoughts on this chapter? Thoughts on Sawyer? Graham? Halden? Flynn? Anyone at all? Sawyer's situation with Flynn and the aftermath of it and whatnot was revealed too- thoughts?

3. Notice the song- Fix You by Coldplay and the picture (Sawyer's outfit to Graham's party).

4. So, in case you didn't know, I have a Twitter and an Instagram. My usernames for both of them are millie_wattpad so if you wanna follow me on either or both of those, that'd be cool. <3

P.S., Today (April 21, 2014) writerbug44 and I are starting to reguarly update our fourth joint story called Rolling Thunder on our joint account- RelentlessDreamer. So, if you wanna check that out, that would be super cool and I'll put the link in the external look. <3