I nodded. “Yup.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I said confused.

He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “You’re crying.”

I blinked, registering the warm saltiness of the tears. “Oh . . .”

He folded me in the warmth of his arms. “You’re safe now. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

__________________________________________________________________

No one could understand what it had been like. People whose names are repeated over and over again in history can’t tell you what happened during the Civil War or when Abraham Lincoln was assassinated because they’re already dead. But for me, I wished I was dead.

I was sent to a mental hospital because the doctors labeled me as being “emotionally and mentally unstable.” I lived in America longer than I did and France and was more accustomed to speaking English than French so they provided me with an American psychologist to speak with that was present at the time. She was young, probably fresh out of college, in her mid-twenties. She had a round baby face with baby blue eyes, a small nose, and a full set of lips. She always kept her messy chestnut hair in a simple updo stop her head and wore simple clothes, sweater and jeans, underneath a white lab coat. All the doctors had to wear those coats, probably to distinguish themselves from others.

All of my doctors were female. Anytime a male doctor tried to get near me I would scream at the top of my lungs. The first time we met, she gave me a warm smile, introducing herself as Tris, short for Trisha. The first time we met, I tried to kill her with a chair. I thought after that, she wouldn’t come walking in the room again. But was I surprised to see her poke her head ever so slightly through the doorway. She never got tired of me, even when most of our sessions were just her talking and asking me questions, trying to get me to speak. I had refused to talk to anyone, not even Tris. But eventually, I warmed up to her.

We weren’t best friends, but we had gone past being just strangers. I had grown fond of her presence but I still wasn’t comfortable talking to her. Then one day, she asked me a question. “Is it alright if I touch your face?”

I looked at her with widened eyes, too stunned to speak. Everyone in that hospital was too afraid to get within a few feet of me, let alone be in the same room as me, and she wanted to touch my face. “Are you stupid?” The words fell from my mouth before I could stop them. After a moment of silence, she smiled a genuine smile. “Finally a response. I was getting pretty tired of speaking to myself.”

            No matter how much I shot her down, Tris’s smile never faltered, and for that I was grateful.

_________________________________________________________________

            “This doesn’t change anything, right?”

            I looked up. Taylor’s blue eyes were fierce and unblinking, determined as they met mine. “What . . .?”

            Her eyes never wavered. “I mean, yeah, we know . . . what happened, but, that doesn’t change anything. Right? I mean, we’re still friends.”    

            “I . . . I don’t know. Do . . . Do you still want to be friends?” I asked uncertainly.

            She blinked, rapidly, and her shoulders seemed to deflate. In seconds, she was up out of her chair and hugging me so tight as if afraid I might disappear. “Of course,” she whispered.

            “She’s right,” Alex chimed in. I looked at him over her shoulder. “We’re won’t stop being friends because of this. You’re stuck with us no matter what.” He was trying to cheer me up and I appreciated that.

            Gustavo cleared his throat. “Thank you guys, you know, for coming over to see how she was doing. But it’s getting late. There’s school tomorrow, don’t forget.”

        Taylor pulled back from our hug, her eyes glossy. “How could we forget?” I laughed at the dull tone in her voice. Alex got up from his seat while Taylor went to get her coat and purse. Damien pulled me to the side. “Do you want me stay longer?” his voice was overwhelming in warmth and sincerity. But I also noticed that his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was uncombed, and when he smiled, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked so tired.

        “No,” I said reluctantly. “You need some sleep.” I brought my hand to his cheek. “I hate seeing you so tired because of me.”

        He turned his head, brushing his lips against my palm. “I’m fine, really. If you want me to stay, I don’t mind. You’re more important.”

        I hugged him, enjoying the feel of him so close. “Go get some sleep. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

        He hugged me tightly, before brushing his lips against mine. Not a kiss but a reminder that he was here. “I love you.” He whispered it for my ears only.

        I nodded. “Me too,” I whispered back.   

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