Page 26 of Escape

My hands tighten into fists in my lap, my nails biting into my palms. “I don’t know why I’m doing it,” I whisper. “I just... I feel like I can’t stop. Like I’m chasing something I can’t even name.”

The silence stretches between us, but it doesn’t feel heavy. The therapist waits, her presence steady, giving me space to keep going.

“I’m not okay,” I admit finally, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I thought I could just push through it, like I always do, but... I can’t.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I blink quickly, trying to push back the tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

The therapist leans forward slightly, her expression calm but intent. “It’s good that you’ve recognised that, Mel. Coming here, talking about it… that’s a big step.”

I nod, though it doesn’t feel big. It feels like I’m barely holding myself together, barely keeping the walls from crumbling completely.

She leans back, her tone gentle but deliberate. “What do you hope to get out of these sessions?”

I take a deep breath, my hands loosening slightly in my lap. “I just... I want to feel like myself again,” I say quietly. “I want to stop feeling like this.”

She nods, her pen moving briefly over the page before she looks at me again. “We’ll work on that together.”

And for the first time in weeks, I feel the smallest flicker of hope. It’s fragile, but it’s there. Maybe this is a step toward something better.

The room is still as I sit back, my shoulders sagging under the weight of everything I’ve just said. The therapist nods, her pen tapping quietly against her notebook as she waits for me to continue.

But my mind’s already drifted somewhere else. Or, more accurately, to someone else.

Owen’s face flashes in my head—his steady eyes, the way his hands felt on me, the way he held me like I mattered. Mystomach twists, and I grip the edge of the sofa harder, willing the thought away.

“Mel,” the therapist says gently, her voice cutting through my spiralling thoughts. “You seemed to drift off for a moment there. Is there something else on your mind?”

I shake my head quickly, too quickly, my cheeks heating. “No, nothing. Just... processing, I guess.”

Her gaze is calm but piercing, and I can tell she doesn’t buy it. “This is a safe space,” she says, her tone soothing. “If there’s something else bothering you, we can talk about it.”

I hesitate. The words are right there, begging to be said, but saying them feels like crossing a line I’m not sure I’m ready for.

Finally, I exhale shakily and glance up at her. “I, uh... I slept with my best friend last night,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her expression doesn’t change. She just nods, waiting for me to go on.

“We’ve been friends forever,” I continue, my words tumbling out in a rush. “And it just... happened. We agreed it was a one-time thing, that we’d forget about it. But—”

I falter, my throat tightening as the emotions I’ve been trying to shove down threaten to spill out.

“But it felt different,” I say finally, my voice cracking. “It didn’t feel like the other times. It wasn’t just... physical.”

She tilts her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “When you say it felt different, can you tell me more about that?”

I bite my lip, my hands twisting in my lap. “With the other guys, it’s always been... transactional, I guess. Like I’m just trying to fill a void or escape something. But with Owen...” I trail off, struggling to put it into words. “It felt real. Like it mattered. It made me wonder if I had feelings for him for a while and was just… suppressing them.”

“And that scares you,” she says gently.

I nod quickly, blinking back the sting of tears. “What if I am wrong? What if it’s just like with the others? What if I’m just using him to fill that void too? I don’t want to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve that.”

The therapist leans forward slightly. “It sounds like you’re trying to protect him, which tells me you care about him a great deal.”

I look down at my hands. “I do. He’s... he’s always been there for me. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?” she asks.

I shake my head, letting out a bitter laugh. “No. We both agreed to forget it happened. I don’t even know what I’d say.”

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