Author's Note: Okay, so two quick things before you start reading:
A. Sawyer is a G I R L. I don't know why people are confused about her gender, especially because it's stated clear as day in the description, but people in the past seem to have been confused, so just thought that I'd state it here for you guys.
and
B. No, Flynn Decker is N O T Sawyer's dad. He is not related to her in any way, shape, or form. There is a moment in this chapter when a character says something to Sawyer about him and some people have misunderstood it as meaning that he's her dad, but he's not.
Okay, that's all - happy reading!
Chapter 01 | You Look So Freaked Out
"Oh, yes, the past can hurt. But you can either run from it, or learn from it." ― The Lion King
"How was your day, Sawyer?" Dr. Fontana, my psychiatrist of one year, asks me in a gentle voice on Friday afternoon as I walk into his roomy office. I close the door behind me before plopping down on the comfy couch that sits right across from his large mahogany desk, which he is sitting behind in an office chair with his dumb clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, ready to record my daily commentary.
"It was fine, Dr. Fontana," I inform him with a small and somewhat irritated sigh because every single day that I come here after school, the first thing he asks me is how my day went and every single day, I tell him the same thing- that my day was fine.
"Okay, well, that's great," He chirps with a small smile as he writes it down on the piece of paper attached to his clipboard. "You went to school today, I assume?"
"Yes, I went to school today," I confirm with a nod. "And to answer your next question, it was just fine and I got an 'A' on my trigonometry test, so yay for me. Now can I please go?" I plead even though I already know for a fact that Dr. Fontana isn't going to let me out of our session this early.
In the beginning, I had to see him every other day for two hours at a time, which was complete and utter hell because I had nothing to talk about. Nothing I wanted to talk about anyway. Anyway, after the first two sessions I had- which amounted up to being four hours- I complained about it to my mom until she finally relented and agreed to talk to Dr. Fontana about switching the times and now I come every day and stay for one hour, which isn't much better but a little bit, at least.
"Nope, you still have," He pauses and checks the expensive looking Rolex on his wrist. "Fifty-seven minutes to go," Dr. Fontana adds before writing something else down.
"Yeah but I don't need fifty-seven minutes, I feel just fine and I don't need to do this today," I continue, trying to get him to see things my way, which I already know that he won't. Why, you ask? Because he gets paid $250 for each of my sessions. I totally would prefer my mother to spend that on something else because that's literally like, $1250 in one week. Not technically a week, just five days because I don't come on Saturdays or Sundays.
"Let's just move on and the time will fly by, I'm sure," Dr. Fontana says. "Okay, now what are you plans for this weekend, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I'm just going to lie in my bed and watch New Girl on TV and also eat a whole bunch of popcorn, probably," I truthfully inform my shrink.
I don't really like to refer to him as my 'therapist' because that makes me feel like I'm crazy or something, which I'm not. Shrink also just sounds a lot less offensive to me. So, yeah, shrink or psychiatrist but I try to avoid saying the word 'therapist' at all times.
"Sawyer," Dr. Fontana scolds, only he does it in that doctor-y way so that even though he's scolding you, he doesn't make it really obvious. I know he only does it because he's not legally allowed to yell at me or anything like that though. If I hadn't been seeing him for as long as I have now, I wouldn't think that he was scolding me but because I do know him pretty well, I know that he in fact is scolding me. "I thought that we agreed last week that you were going to try to make more friends? How are you going to make more friends if you never leave your house?" He asks, putting down his clipboard momentarily and giving me a curious look.
"No, you said that I should try to make more friends and I told you that I have all the friends that I need already," I remind him, going back to the conversation we had just a week ago, Dr. Fontana and I. I just hate this thing so much, the therapy thing, I mean.
After what happened this time last year as soon as I was released from Richmond Hospital my mother told me that I had to start seeing a therapist and out of all fifty-five therapists in this entire office building thing, she saw Dr. Fontana as the most fit to help me. I don't really mind him though- he's a nice guy, for the most part.
"You're being difficult, Sawyer," Dr. Fontana says, rubbing his forehead like he has a headache or something. I can understand that though, having a headache, because I would imagine spending eight plus hours a day talking to teenagers about their problems must be exhausting.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Fontana," I apologize, huffing a sigh and absentmindley running my fingers through my blonde hair. "I'm just ready to go home and take a really long nap- it's been a long week," I explain.
"Did something in particular happen that you need to tell me about?" He questions.
"No, I don't think so," I deny, shaking my head. "But it's been exactly ten minutes since I got here and as you can see, I am totally fine, so if I leave now, I could totally just stay for seventy minutes on Monday instead of sixty," I try to reason.
"No, that's not going to happen- I have another person to see right after you on Monday and if you stay for ten extra minutes, that'll take ten minutes from the next person's session," He explains. "Anyway, you do know my son, don't you?"
"Not like, personally but yeah, I have like, four classes with him," I respond. "Why?"
"His girlfriend, Lindsay, is having her eighteenth birthday party tonight. He said that it's an open party and that you could come if you want to," Dr. Fontana says to me.
"I don't go to parties," I deadpan, quickly rejecting that idea.
"You are very stubborn, Sawyer- how do you expect to be able to get better if you're not willing to spend time with other people?" He asks me.
"I am getting better and I don't know why you think that being around with other people is going to make that any easier. It only happened a year ago and just by surrounding myself with a bunch of idiots from school, the healing process isn't going to speed up at all- if anything, it'll slow down," I snap.
"Okay then," Dr. Fontana replies, not at all perturbed by my snapping on him as he leans down to pick up his clipboard again and start to jot down what I just said.
Or the gist of it or something. I don't know. He never tells me what he writes down during these sessions, which isn't fair and it's just very stupid because obviously they have to do with me so I have a right to know.
"Now, tell me about Flynn," He urges, referring to the entire reason that I'm even in therapy- because of freaking Flynn Decker. Well, not really because of Flynn but because of the thing that I did because of Flynn. So, yeah, I guess, indirectly, Flynn is the reason that I have to give up an hour out of my day every day until Dr. Fontana deems it okay for us to cut back on the sessions. He asks me about Flynn a lot, Dr. Fontana does, and usually I just brush it off because talking about him makes me really emotional and angry and those are two things I prefer not to be.
"I don't want to talk about Flynn," I groan loudly, leaning back into the couch and crossing my arms across my chest before pulling my legs up into the couch with me and wrapping my arms around them so that I'm in a little cocoon ball position.
"I know you don't like talking about him, Sawyer, that's what you've been telling me for the past year but if you never tell me about him, how am I going to help you?" He asks in a soft voice, trying to be all persuasive like all the stupid therapists are.
"My mom told you about him when I first started coming to you," I remind him. My mother never told me that she told Dr. Fontana about me but I know that she did because I didn't and the only other people who know are my three best friends, Aspen, Sienna and Piper, my older brother, Beckett, and obviously Flynn, but none of them even knew I was seeing a psychiatrist until I told them.
"Your mother doesn't know exactly what happened- she only knows what you told her. But you and Flynn are the only two people who know what really happened that night, Sawyer and if you really don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but if you don't, you still have forty-five minutes and I'm going to bring up the one thing I know you hate talking about more than Flynn- your father," He warns.
✿✿✿✿✿✿
About an hour later, I pull into the driveway of my colonial-style house and park my car behind my brother's. My therapy session was due to end at 5:00 but it went over and I didn't leave until 5:30 because I started crying and getting all hysterical while Dr. Fontana and I were talking about Flynn.
Like I said, I always get emotional when I have to talk about him and since Dr. Fontana only knew what my mom had told him a year ago, I kind of had to go into full detail about what exactly happened and I started having all of these terrible flashbacks.
I literally ended up on the floor like, clenching my chest because I just couldn't even breathe because of how hard I was crying. It was pretty bad. I did manage to tell Dr. Fontana about most of what happened that night but when I got to the worst part, that's when I started freaking out and he said that that's where we'd pick up on Monday afternoon. So, that's why I'm just now getting home at 5:45 versus when I usually do at like, 5:15.
I decide to leave my backpack in my car since I don't plan on doing any homework tonight and then remove the keys from the ignition, grabbing my Subway bag from the passenger seat before getting out of my car and walking up to the front door. I have an obsession with all things Subway and I usually stop there after my therapy session because by that time I'm starving.
My mother always tells me that I need to stop doing that because I'm going to 'balloon up' but in comparison to places like McDonalds and Pizza Hut, Subway is super healthy and that's exactly what I told her, which should couldn't deny.
"Sawyer, is that you?" I hear my brother call from what sounds like the living room as soon as I step inside the house and close the door behind me.
I kick off my shoes- I hate wearing shoes, so I never really wear them unless I'm leaving my house and when I get in the house, I always kick them off and leave them by the front door- and then begin to peel back the paper on my sandwich as I head down the corridor.
"Yeah, it's me, Beckett." I call back, taking a bite out of my sub. "Whose car is that in the driveway?" I query, making my way into the living room, where I almost choke on my Chicken Teriyaki sub when I see a guy sitting there on the couch with my older brother. "Um, who is he?" I ask, feeling like I'm about to break out in a cold sweat.
I wasn't expecting him to be here and I don't know him and I just cannot handle being in a close proximity with guys that I don't know. Not after what happened last year. Not just with guys I don't know, with all guys really because they're all stupid freak faces aside from Beckett and Dr. Fontana.
"I'm Brett," The blonde-haired boy informs me, offering a wide grin from where he is sitting, eating from a bag of Doritos and holding Beckett's wireless X-Box controller in his hand.
"Erm, alright, I'll be in my room," I announce, backing out of the room and then practically running down the rest of the way down the corridor until I reach the stairs. Before I do they, I hear the guy, Brett, speak.
"What's up with your sister, dude?"
"Nothing, she's just...she's had a rough couple of months," Beckett awkwardly answers.
"Why- " Brett starts but I don't get the chance to hear him finish the rest of his question or whatever because at that moment, my iPhone rings out loudly in the pocket of my jeans and I pull it out, accepting the call when I see that it's from my best friend, Aspen, as I head up the rest of the stairs and into my bedroom.
"Hey Aspen," I greet, sitting down on my bed and taking another bite of my sub.
"Hey Saw," Aspen rejoinders, calling me by that dumb nickname that I've told her about seven hundred times to not call me by. She's really hardheaded though, Aspen is, and she obviously doesn't listen to me whenever I say that. "So, I'm coming to your house and I'm bringing tacos, so be ready, okay?"
"Um, okay," I laugh. "Why tacos though?"
"Why not?" She replies with a chuckle.
"Touché," I respond with another laugh. "Are Piper and Sienna coming too?" I query.
"Nope, they're going Chace's party tonight," Aspen informs me with a groan.
Chace is Dr. Fontana's son, in case that wasn't obvious. Like I said, I don't even know the guy personally and even though his father is my psychiatrist, I'm sure he has no idea who I am. Not that I even care because he's not really the type of guy that I want to associate with- he reminds me too much of Flynn, except he's sort of preppy so I don't think he's capable of all the stuff that Flynn was capable of.
Anyway though, Aspen and Chace briefly had a thing, like, they weren't dating but they hooked up quite a few times. Aspen thought that he really liked her too and that he was going to actually ask her out or something, which he didn't. He ended up never speaking to her again after one night and the following day in school, we saw him all hugged up with Lindsay, his current girlfriend. That was about two months though, so I know that Aspen is over it, she just tends to hold grudges against people that've wronged her.
"I thought it was Lindsay's party?" I ask. "That's what Dr. Fontana told me," I add.
"I dunno," Aspen says. "Nor do I care because Chace is a piece of scum and he can get drunk and drown in Lindsay's hot tub, for all I care," She snarkily murmurs- see? I told you that she has a tendency to hold grudges. I would try to sympathize with her, tell her that I get it or whatever, but I don't and she knows that. I've never had a boyfriend or a one-night stand or any sort of fling like that, so I obviously don't even know what she's going through.
Rather, what she went through because like I said, she's over Chace, she just hates him still. Just like when I went through what I went through last fall, Aspen didn't know how to help me get through it- neither did Sienna or Piper, because what I had happen to me had never happened to them.
"Aspen, that's not very nice," I inform my best friend in a singsong voice as I take another huge bite of my Subway sandwich. I don't know why I'm so hungry today but I guess it could be because of the fact that I'm a procrastinator and instead of eating at school today during lunch, I had to go to the library to write and English paper.
"Well, he's not worthy of my niceness," She pipes with a chuckle. "Anyways, you don't want to go, do you? Like, we can if you want to but I just figured that you wouldn't want to," Aspen replies.
"I most definitely do not want to go to a party," I deny, shaking my head even though she can't see me- I feel like it gets my point across about how terrible I think parties are and if I can help it, I will never, never, ever set foot into one as long as I live.
Well, unless it's like, a party that happens in the daytime and it's like, for my kids or something, assuming I have children when I grow up. Given the fact I almost stopped breathing when I saw a boy I didn't recognize downstairs just now though, I'd say that ship has sailed. I could always adopt though. I dunno, I'm only seventeen so it's not like I'm actually considering any of that stuff now anyway.
"Okay, good and I'm at Taco Bell now," She tells me and I hear her tell the cashier person that she wants one of those 12-pack things. You know, the purple box with 12 tacos in it? That's kind of crazy to me because I mean, like, who eats 12 tacos? But for a party or something, I guess it's a good thing. Granted, out of our group of four, Aspen and I are definitely the greedy pigs because all we ever do is eat.
"Get me a Baja Blast, please," I respond in the sweetest tone that I can muster.
I didn't get a drink when I got my sub and I'm not quite sure why, but I didn't so now I'm all thirsty but I think I kind of just embarrassed myself in front of that Brett guy and not to mention the fact that I don't even know him, which scares the heck out of me, so I'm not going back down there until I know that he's gone.
"I will get you a Baja Blast but you're paying me back once I get there," She states.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that, but alrighty," I chirp before ending the phone call before my friend can refute her statement and decide that she's actually not going to get me a Baja Blast, which would be immensely tragic because those things are freaking delicious and if you've never had one then it's like you haven't even properly lived.
As soon as I hang the phone up and connect it to its charger, there's a knock on my bedroom and it kind of catches me off guard and I jump, nearly dropping my sandwich to the floor. If you haven't noticed, I scare kind of easily. Well, not really, just when I'm around people that I don't know (mostly just guys that I don't know though) and I know for a fact that there's a guy that I don't know downstairs with my brother.
"Yes?" I call from where I'm sitting on my bed, realizing that it's probably just Beckett because the Brett guy wouldn't have any reason to be knocking on my door. Usually though, Beckett just walks in.
"Hey, dad wants to talk to you, Sawyer," He tells me, walking over to me and handing me the black landline.
"What does he want?" I query, raising my eyebrows as I grab the phone from him and put my hand over the receiver so that our dad doesn't hear me over the line. I'm a little bit surprised that he's calling me because he hasn't talked to me in about two years and for him to just randomly call and want to talk to me is really weird and unusual.
"I don't know, he just said that he wants to talk to you," Beckett answers me before quickly leaning down and grabbing my sub sandwich and taking a humongous bite from it.
"Beckett, quit it you chicken butt!" I exclaim, balling my hand in a tiny fist and punching him in his stupid shoulder. He's got a lot more muscle than I do though so I know it doesn't actually hurt him.
It just makes him laugh but I don't really care because he puts my sub back down and that's all I really care about. I paid like, $6 for it, I'll have you know. This just goes to show what a greedy pig I am- I'm eating a foot-long sandwich but my best friend is on her over here with a box of tacos that we're probably gonna split.
"Okay, okay, I'm going," He mumbles with his mouth food of chicken teriyaki as he laughs makes his way out of my room, closing the door as he does so.
"Hi Tom," I awkwardly say, pulling the phone up to my ear.
"Sawyer, you can call me 'dad', you know- I am your dad, you know." He replies.
"Yes, I'm aware," I respond clearing my throat. "Um, what's up?" I question.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," My dad tells me nonchalantly.
"Well, I'm doing fine, thanks," I mutter, swallowing a growing lump in my throat.
"So, do you have a boyfriend or anything like that yet?" My dad wonders, not knowing about what happened last year, I guess. Like I said, the last time I talked to the guy was two years ago and the last time I actually saw him was about six years ago when he left. As in, walked out on us. That's what he did and that's not even really the reason I don't talk to him.
I don't speak to my father (by choice) because he's in prison and he's in the state penitentiary in like, North Carolina or somewhere like that. I live in Massachusetts and that's where he went after he left us, down to North Carolina. That's where he committed the disgusting crime that he did and I'm pretty sure that's where he's in jail at. And just as a rule of thumb, I try not to associate myself with criminals.
"No, I don't have a boyfriend, dad- I don't date," I tell him, my voice icy cold because to be honest, I'm a little bit upset over the fact that my dad doesn't even know anything about me or any of the awful stuff that I've been through the past year. Obviously he doesn't care either because if he did, he wouldn't waited this long to call. I mean, I feel like he should know about it and I'm willing to bet that he does. I know they have TV in prison and it was all in the news for about a month and a half.
"Well, how is school going?" He wonders, promptly changing the subject.
"School is great," I reply even though it's not. I mean, I have good grades, I just hate school so much because it's so hard and stupid and just like, non-beneficial. Like, with the career path that I want to follow, I don't need to know that the Battle of Hastings was in 1066 or that the square root of pi is 1.77245...whatever or that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of a cell or to understand the court scene in that Harper Lee book- To Kill A Mockingbird. None of it is going to help my career at all.
"Have you spoken to your grandmother?" He asks, I assume, in reference to his mom.
"No, not in a few months I haven't," I respond. "Dad, what exactly do you want? I know you didn't just call to ask about how my life is going and my friend is coming over soon so please, just cut to the chase," I sigh exasperatedly.
"Okay, well, I need you to call her and ask for my bail money- it's only $250,000 and she has it," He informs me.
"Dad, I'm sorry but I will not call grandma and ask her for that kind of money, it's kind of ridiculous- I mean, you're her son, why don't you call her and ask her?"
"Don't you think that I've tried that Sawyer?" My dad snaps, suddenly angry. That's another reason I don't talk to him- he always yells at me whenever I don't something that he wants, like try to get my grandmother to use her hard-earned money to get him out of prison- which he doesn't deserve, by the way. He's right where he needs to be.
"Well, I don't know- it has been two years since we spoke," I remind him.
"You know what? You're right. It has been two years and you're still an exact replica of your cold-hearted mother, Sawyer. You're just like her and that's repulsive." My dad goes on to insult me but it doesn't really matter to me what he thinks because as far as I'm concerned, I have no father. Just a man who happened to contribute to my being alive.
"I'm sorr- "
"Be prepared to go another two years without hearing from me, you selfish, little, slutty bitch," My dad cuts me off and then before I can even gather a response to that (it's kind of hard to because my dad's never called me that before, I don't think. Don't get me wrong, he's called me a lot of things and it's really not the bitch part that got me just now, it was the slut part. I know I'm not a bitch and I know I'm not a slut but it just really got to me just now and I'm kind of at a loss for words), the line goes dead and the house phone beeps three times, letting me know the other person has hung up.
I stand up from my bed, bringing my chicken teriyaki sub along with me as I leave my room, heading back downstairs. I said I wasn't going to leave until I knew that the Brett guy was gone but I do need to put the landline back on the charger thing because it dies really quickly. Luckily though, the landline charger thing isn't in the living room, it's in the kitchen.
I make it down to the kitchen unnoticed by Beckett and his friend, for which I'm thankful, and I can hear them shouting profanities at each other as they play that stupid car video game. I don't even know the name or the object of it but I know they have to steal cars or something like that. I just don't like a lot of violence, I guess, and that game is chock full of it, which is why I call it stupid because it is.
I put the house phone back down on the charger and then pull the refrigerator open, realizing that given how slow and precarious a driver Aspen is, she won't be here with my Baja Blast for at least another twenty minutes and I'm pretty thirsty. From the refrigerator, I pull out the lemonade pitcher and pour myself a tall glass of it before putting the pitcher back into the refrigerator and taking a sip. When I whirl around, about to go back upstairs to my room and commence my New Girl marathon, I let out a squeal when I see Brett standing there, leaning against the counter, watching me.
"You scare pretty easily, don't you?" He asks quietly with an effortless laugh.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," I reply awkwardly, proud of myself for forcing out those seven words without passing out and dying. I'm telling you, ever since the thing happened last year, I cannot be around boys. I mean, I can, obviously I am at school, but I can't be alone with them. It just makes me feel really uncomfortable. Like I said though, Dr. Fontana and my brother don't count though because they care about me and I know that they won't hurt me.
"Why is that?" Brett queries in reference to why I scare so easily.
"Um, I-I dunno, I just do, I guess," I stammer, drinking down some of my lemonade.
"You're kind of cute," Brett laughs again, walking around the kitchen island and taking an apple out of the fruit bowl and tossing it around from one hand to the next instead of eating it like a normal person.
"Um, thank you?" I squeak.
"You're welcome," Brett responds. "So, I just came in here to ask you if you're busy tomorrow night."
"Um, tomorrow night? Y-yes, I think I'm very busy tomorrow night," I lie evasively because I don't want to do whatever it is he wants to ask me about. I don't really care what it is- I don't know him and he's a lot older than me (like, four years older, assuming he's my brother's age).
"You look so freaked out," Brett laughs out loud. "My and your brother's university is throwing a toga party and it'd be really cool if you came too," He explains.
"A toga party?" I echo, raising my eyebrows. "Um, thanks but no. Like I said, I'm gonna be super, super busy," I reply, drinking down the rest of my lemonade and then getting the heck out of there before I start crying. That's what I do when I'm freaked out- I cry and it makes me feel like a baby but I can't really help it at all.
"Hey, Sawyer, you okay?" Beckett asks me as I walk past him, going back up the stairs to my room as he coming down them, probably from his own bedroom or the bathroom or something.
"I'm fine," I confirm with a nod before heading the rest of the way up the stairs.
I know my fear of being alone with boys I don't know is a little bit irrational but the last time I was alone with a guy his age, things got pretty ugly. So, now I try to avoid it at all possible costs and most of the time it works. My brother gives me a concerned look- he blames himself for what happened last year because Flynn was his best friend at the time. I've told him thousands and thousands of times that it wasn't his fault, that nothing about that night was his fault but he still doesn't believe it and as a result, he's pretty hard on himself and he watches me like a hawk.
When I make it back to my room, I lock my bedroom door and then get out of my school clothes, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a ratty too-big t-shirt. Then I tie my hair up in a messy bun before unlocking the door (I just didn't want someone to walk in while I was changing) and then climb into my bed, bringing my laptop from my desk with me. While I wait for Aspen to arrive, I go to Netflix, plug my earbuds in, and start an episode of New Girl.
Author's Note: Hey there, lovelies! There you have it, the first chapter of the new story I'm working on! This idea kind of just popped into my head, so I decided to run with it and this is the first chapter I was able to get out of my head.
This is just a teaser but I'm going to start posting the story regularly on December 20th! So, only a few more weeks until then! If you like this, you should probably add it to your library or whatever so that you'll see it updated on 12/20 in case you forget that that's when I'm going to start posting it regularly.
Anyways, don't forget to comment and vote, please! The picture is Candice Swanepoel, who plays Sawyer and notice the song as well! Thoughts on this chapter? Thoughts on Sawyer and what happened to her (it may seem obvious but I have a few tricks up my sleeve, guys). Thoughts on Beckett and Brett? On her therapist? You'll meet more characters in the next chapter (which will be up on December 20th!) I'll see you lovelies then! <3