Page 52 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Let go of me! Let go!”

Pandemonium blurs everything as people flood the room, and the next thing I know, my feet are no longer on the ground. In a slip of a second, I’m forced into a wheelchair. A fear I’ve never known rips through me when leather cuffs fasten around my wrists and ankles, restraining me in the worst way imaginable.

Tears spring from my eyes as I’m rushed out of the bathroom and into the brightly lit hall. Everything happens in flashes I can’t grasp as my senses fail. I’m being pushed so fast that the air whips through my hair, and all I can hear are my pleading screams, but they can’t possibly be mine because I don’t recognize the sounds barreling out of me.

They wheel me down one locked hall and into another, and I’m finally pushed in to a small room. Horror strikes when the lights go on and I see the restraint bed.

“No!” I scream. “Don’t do this!”

They continue talking to me, but nothing filters in with four people holding on to my limbs. I’m unstrapped from the chair and hoisted onto the bed as I fight with every ounce of strength I have, but I can’t break free.

Balling my hands into fists, I thrash violently while bloodcurdling screams tear through my vocal cords.

I attempt to kick but can’t get more than an inch of movement as they secure the straps, locking my legs and arms down so tightly I can’t move.

“Please, no! Let me go!” I continue to wail, but there is no one to save me.

A sharp sting spears into my hip, sending a cold current of ice through my bloodstream. I look up to a male nurse hovering over me, but he dissolves into vapor as my muscles slacken and my voice fades until nothing is left but silence.

SEBASTIAN

There’s a strange vibe in the cafeteria this morning. Almost everyone is already eating when I walk in and grab my tray. Whispered chatter fills the room, but it’s so subdued that it piques curiosity.

“Why’s everyone acting so weird this morning?” I ask when I sit in my usual spot next to Wes.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” I scoop a spoonful of rubbery eggs into my mouth.

“Harlow tried killing herself.”

A cannonball smashes right into my chest.

What the fuck?

I must’ve misunderstood him, but when my eyes flick to Max, my stomach coils. She’s visibly shaken, swaying back and forth.

“What happened?”

She doesn’t respond, but I’m too struck in utter disbelief to care about her mental state. “Max,” I state firmly, “tell me what happened.”

“It was so scary.” Her voice trembles. “I heard her crying from the bathroom in the middle of the night ... it woke me up. There was no staff outside the door, so I ran to check on her, but she had already slit her wrist.”

“Holy shit.”

Max’s eyes fill with tears, and Wes consoles her. I can’t comprehend the idea of Harlow doing that to herself—or anyone doing that.

“Where is she?”

“Isolation,” Wes says. “Or as they call it here ‘the quiet room.’”

“What’s that?”

“A safe room where she can’t hurt herself.”

My appetite vanishes, and I sit back. Max wipes away a tear as I try to unscramble my racing thoughts. It’s nearly impossible to grasp a single one, but there’s no denying that each of them hold a common denominator of guilt. It consumes me. I’ve been nothing but a dick to that girl, giving her so much crap over the years, and never once considering what that could do to a person.

What if this is my fault?

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