Page 56 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

“Things.”

Lifting my eyes to him, I find he’s nodding. “Perhaps Harlow was trying to get away from things too.” He acknowledges the group, saying, “You see, in one way or another, if you open your eyes wide enough, you’ll find that all of us share similarities. It’s what connects us and what helps us understand each other a little better.”

“How can we be expected to understand Harlow if she never talks?” Kevin says. “All of us participate except her.” He looks at me and adds, “Same with you.”

I shake my head at the prick.

“Sebastian is participating today,” Dr. Benson responds in my defense. “And I have hope that Harlow will find the strength to open herself up with time. The thing is, just because we want her to talk, it doesn’t mean she’s going to. Right now, she has to fight extremely hard against her illness to do that. And to her, it feels like an impossible feat—debilitating even. For some, it’s easier to give up and drown. But we will keep encouraging her, and we will keep encouraging each other.”

The discussion continues for a while longer, and when we’re released to rec, Dr. Benson stops me.

“She’s going to be okay,” he assures once the room has emptied. “I know you’re worried.”

“I, um ...” The weight of this guilt has been tormenting me all morning, and I have to get it off my chest, but it’s hard to admit what I’ve done.

He gives me a few seconds to pick up my words, but when he realizes that I’m not going to, he tells me, “If it were meant to be, it would’ve been. She’s still with us because she has a purpose.”

HARLOW

Sitting in the corner of the room with my knees to my chest, I hug my legs.

I feel stupid.

I feel weak.

I feel like a parasite.

It’s freezing in here and smells like bleach. There are no windows to the outside and there is nothing to distract myself with other than white walls and worn laminate floor. This room could drive a sane person mad. This is my second day, and I’m already going stir crazy.

Shanice stopped by earlier to drop off my breakfast tray. After refusing all my meals yesterday, I finally ate, but now my stomach hurts. Maybe it’s from the food, or maybe it’s because my mother is coming today.

I’m scared of herI told you so.

Yesterday, I could have sworn I saw Sebastian standing on the other side of the door, looking at me through the small window. When Dr. Benson came in a handful of minutes later to do an eval on me, I wanted to ask him if Sebastian was here, but I was too scared. If he hadn’t been and I’d imagined him, there is no telling where they would’ve put me next.

When one of the first things the doctor had said to me was, “Your friends are worried about you.” I relaxed a bit. Maybe Sebastian had snuck into this wing of the facility and found me, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call him a friend. It was more likely that he was looking for dirt to sling about me when we get back to school.

“What friends?”

“Sebastian.”

“He isn’t my friend.”

“I think he might feel differently.”

No, I am very aware of how ruthless Sebastian is. It is far more likely that he got caught in the hallway and made up some excuse about being worried about me.

The door unlocks, and I lift my head from my knees when it opens.

Dr. Amberg steps in. “Good morning.”

He holds a handful of my folded clothes and sets them onto the bed.

“What are those for?”

“You get to go back to the group today.”

It’s a mixture of emotions when he tells me this. The thing is, I don’t want to be in isolation, but I also don’t want to face everyone. I want to be alone, just not in this room.

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