Page 65 of Best Kept Secret

"And now?"

I closed my eyes and thought again about how alone I was—and how I had lost everything that mattered to me; maybe even myself.

Stop the pity party, Mira. It's not attractive, and no one cares. No one hasevercared. Move on.

"I don't know," I replied softly. "I regret taking the Ambien…you know, trying to kill myself, but…." I trailed away, wondering why I was speaking with this woman. Maybe it was because I was bored, sitting here, hour after hour, with nothing to do. Or perhaps, I just wanted to talk about what had happened, process it, which was not a bad thing.

"But?" she prompted.

"But I feel like it wouldn't have been a bad thing if I'd died."

"You told me you're fine. Can you tell me what that means to you?"

This question was easy. I shifted in the hospital bed, pushing the thin blanket off my lap. "It means I don't hurt anymore. Isn't that what you people want? For the pain to stop?" My voice was flat, emotionless.

"What was hurting, Mira?Wherewas it hurting?"

I didn't see pity in her eyes as I had with the nurses—and even my doctor in the ICU. I liked that about her; it made me feel more comfortable with her.

I put a hand to my heart, and then scoffed at myself. "I'm being melodramatic."

"Maybe, maybe not. Let's not worry about labeling how you'rebeing,and just tell me what you feel or think. No judgment."

Objectively speaking, this woman was hired to assess my mental health—she had no sides to take. She didn't hate me or like me—I wasmerelya patient. There was relief in that.

"My heart hurts."

"Someone hurt you?"

I wished I could cry, I thought suddenly. Crying would be good right now because I felt like I was choking inside. So, maybe not as empty and without feeling as I'd thought.

"I came to Savannah with my niece," I began, and then told her about Pari and Beau. Just the basics. No details.

"About your parents, why—"

"Not talking about them." I had boundaries, and that was one I wasn't going to cross. I had the rest of my life to live, and after the universe gave me a reprieve for my stupidity, I wasn't about to dig up my childhood again. I'd already tried, and no one believed me. Some days, I didn't even believe it myself.

"Why?"

"Just not."

Dr. Ryan leaned forward a little. "Do you still want to hurt yourself?"

"No," I answered automatically. "I just need to find a job, make some money, and then get the hell out of Savannah."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're planning to leave Savannah?"

"Why would I stay?" I asked, as though the answer was obvious. "There's nothing here for me. I need to go somewhere else, somewhere far. I'll work, save up. That's what matters now."

"What about Pari?" she asked, her voice gentle, like she was trying to sneak that question in quietly, without upsetting me.

Her name stirred something inside me, deep, deep, deep underneath the fog. But I convinced myself it was just indigestion. I was feelingnothing. It was better, safer to block myself from the world—then no one could hurt me. I wouldn't think about Beau. I wouldn't miss hugging my baby girl. I didn't deserve her. I'd made a mess of everything, and on top of that, I'd tried to commit suicide. That didn't exactly screamgood mental health, and no one should trust me with theresponsibility of a child. In fact, Asha should never have in the first place.

"It's better if I never see her again," I said flatly. "She's better off without me. I wasn't a good parent to her. I never should've been in her life at all. This is how it should've always been."

Dr. Ryan was silent for a moment, watching me patiently.

"She must miss you if she wants to hear you sing her to sleep, Mira," the doctor said gently.

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