She's desperate to hide her secret... he's determined to expose it.
For Phoebe Marshall, her childhood is a total non-event. Her mom was never home, working as a well-known actress. Her dad was busy working in his office, and she ended up raising he...
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Phoebe
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When I wake up, Noah isn't next to me... I have a bad feeling about today. I don't know what it is... So I sit up, clutch my robe and walk into the living room.
"Noah?" I call out, but he isn't in the living room or the kitchen. "Noah?" I call out again, looking around the whole apartment and he isn't here.
I walk to the front door, seeing his bag and his lab coat missing.
I make myself some breakfast, even though it's almost noon and I decide to look at my phone. Noah sent me a text that he loves me.
I calm down within seconds, knowing that I was panicking for no reason. Since the trial, I have been less anxious knowing Jay is in prison. But Noah told me that I will still have anxiety...
I was depressed for a week after the trial... I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to be seen. I wanted just to hide away, but Noah wouldn't let that happen...
I look over at the door that is back on the hinges. I'm still shocked that Noah took off the damn door to keep an eye on me. I wasn't actually going to hurt myself... I wanted to, but I couldn't. Physically I couldn't even get out of bed.
Noah even took a whole week of work just to watch me... After court, I don't remember the ride home or how I got into the apartment. All I remember is walking into the front door and immediately heading to the guest room. Not even an hour later, I hear the door being taken down.
Noah brought me food every day, even when I didn't eat it. On day two, I got so frustrated with him trying to get me to talk; I threw something at him... The days started to fade, getting blurred, but I remember telling him I'm sorry for that.
I still haven't dared to call my family back... I've texted my sisters that I am okay. But I can't hear them speak... My mother doesn't want anything to do with me, and my dad just wants me to come home. He says that America ruined me...
I take my empty plate, putting it in the sink and as I am washing it. I see the scars on the palms of my hands... When Noah saw them, he didn't say a word. He just cleaned them and wrapped them up, later on though, I told him what happened. I did this to myself to keep myself calm... I didn't want to fuck up the trial; I just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.
When I was willing to talk about everything, Noah suggested that I see a therapist. This made me furious, and that ended up being our first real argument.
"I am not crazy, Noah!" I yell, standing up from the couch.
"I never said you were crazy, Phoebe. I'm saying; you should see a therapist to help you with this." Noah stands up with me, but I shake my head.
"I- I don't need a therapist!" I yell in disbelief. "I don't need someone to sit across the room and ask me how something makes me feel." I stomp into the guest room, quickly remembering that Noah took off the fucking door. "I know how I feel, Noah! I'm fucking pissed off!" I turn around to face him.
