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Oh my God...wow. I can't believe that this story is coming to an end! I would just like to thank each and every one of you who's reading this and for giving it a chance! I would also like to thank everyone who told me how much they liked this story and who gave me loads of honest, positive, and encouraging feedback on it. In particular I would like to thank @JoanaDimitrova, @MaplecFreter, and @BepositiveAlex92 for sticking by this story and believing in it! Your support has meant the world to me! And to all you silent readers out there, never hold back from voting and/or commenting on chapters because that will always make my day! I'm so happy to say that I have finished my first ever book and even though it is far from perfect (and I mean really far lol) it will always hold a special place in my heart because it's what got me started here on Wattpad and it has been an incredible journey so far! Thanks again and I hope you all enjoy the Epilogue and are satisfied with the ending!

Xx, Alana


One year later.

"Next in line, please," I call out into the long line of customers waiting to place their orders. It's a sunny, expectionally windy Friday morning in Daytona Beach as I'm in the midst of my four hour shift at the local brew called Sweet Marlays' Coffee. A young woman who looks like she just finished a long jog, comes to stand in front of the cash register.

"Hi, can I have an oatmeal with brown sugar and fruit on the side and also a tall iced green tea?" She asks me.

I nod. "Sure thing. Is that all?"

"Yep," she nods, slightly out of breath, wiping her forehead from what I presume to be sweat.

"Ok, your total is six ninety five," I say brightly and she hands me one five and two two's. I give her the five cents change and then tell one of my co workers next to me to make her drink.

For some reason, today feels like one of the busiest days I've ever had working here. I applied for this job five months ago. Right after I got out of rehab. Yep, that's right, I went to that rehab clinic on the brochure given to my mom at the police station. I ended up getting treated there for almost six months and even now my visits to the hospital are still once a month. I have a therapist that I meet with there. Her name is Doctor Paige Solomon. Within the first month that I met with her, she already had me diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder. To say the diagnosis was devastating would be a major understatement. I think my mom was even more stressed about it than I was. Not to mention the fact that she had to pay thousands of dollars for my individual treatment, one on one therapy sessions, and the medication.

My mom ended up getting me withdrawn from regular public school and letting me take online classes instead in order to better manage my new routine. There were times when I even slept over at the rehab center for the first few weeks I was there. During that seemingly short amount of time, I don't think I'd ever felt so isolated and depressed in my entire life. Besides my mom, the doctors, and my therapist, there was no one else I felt like I could talk to. I had completely shut my old friends out of my life, including Lizzie, and even when she tried to text me and call me countless times, asking me what had happened, I never had the courage to respond to her.

Eventually, I realized that it wasn't right for me to ignore her and never tell her what happened to me, so I called her back, asking her to come over to my house so I could explain. After we reunited and I told her everything, we both cried together on my bed that day. She cried because she was scared for my future and maybe I was crying because I was scared for me too. But more importantly I was crying because I had missed her. I never fully realized just how much her friendship meant to me and how much I had taken it for granted. We promised each other that no matter what we would always keep in touch and call each other if there was ever a problem and we needed help.

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