Page 43 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Is this you trying to therapize me now?”

“This is me trying to understand so I can help you.”

Remaining slouched in his chair, Sebastian’s arrogance doesn’t wane. “I don’t need help.”

Dr. Benson nods. “Okay then; we’ll come back to this tomorrow. Let’s move on.” He closes Sebastian’s file and pulls another one from the stack. “Harlow,” he states, and I cringe. “How do you feel like you’re progressing?”

What he’s really saying is that I’m not progressing at all and he wants to see if I’ll admit that I’m actually regressing. The gloom has thickened over this past month.

“How did the visit with your father go on Friday?”

He knows exactly how the visit went because Marcus would have reported to him about it. I’m still so angry with him for taking my mom’s side over mine, for not trusting me. Just thinking about it has my irritability awakening.

“Harlow, a simple good or bad is all I’m looking for,” Dr. Benson says, but I’m unwilling to give him either of those because I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone anymore.

“Just tell him the truth,” Max encourages, but I shake my head, keeping my eyes downcast.

“Harlow?”

“I don’t want to talk,” I state.

Dr. Benson smacks my file shut before heaving a sigh.

“What are you doing?” His tone is stern. “This isn’t the same Harlow I remember from last year.”

I sneak a fast look at Sebastian, who is entirely too focused on this conversation.

“Don’t you want to get out of here? To see your family? See your friends?” Dr. Benson adds.

There’s a faint snicker, and a second later, Wes whispers harshly, “You’re an asshole, Sebastian.”

Ducking my chin a little more, I curl into myself.

Dr. Benson softens his voice when he addresses me again. “Where’s that fighter I saw in you last time. Where has she gone, Harlow?”

She’s faded away.

How can they expect me to fight when not even my family is willing to fight for me? Maybe the reason they aren’t is because I’m not worth it to them. And if I’m not worth it to them, am I even worth it to myself?

There’s an urge to tremble and cry, but I’m too broken to function like I should, like everyone wants me to. The effort it would take is overwhelming—impossible even.

“Harlow, look at me.” I don’t want to, but I do, and when my eyes meet his, he tells me, “I’m not giving up on you.”

Maybe you should.

After a second, he nods and writes something in my file before slipping it to the bottom of his stack. “Jeremy, how are you feeling, buddy?”

I don’t need to look to know Sebastian is staring at me, examining me, questioning me, judging me. It makes my skin itch, but I’m too scared to draw any more attention to myself by scratching, so I suffer in the discomfort. Eventually, Sebastian diverts his attention to Jeremy, who’s now upset, and I relax a fraction.

“Gus is back, and I’m really trying to ignore him, but I can’t,” Jeremy says. Last time he mentioned Gus was two weeks ago. Apparently, whatever the evil rat is saying this time has Jeremy freaking out and unable to sit still.

I’m not going to lie, a part of me feels bad that Sebastian has to share a room with him—a very microscopic part.

“You don’t think they took Jeremy to isolation, do you?” I ask Wes while we stand in line to get our meds.

“Doubt it.”

While Dr. Benson was trying to calm him down in group earlier, Jeremy wound up losing it and got a code gray called on him.

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