Page 48 of Pretty Black

“Partly.”

“There are celebrity groups for these things where more scrutiny and secrecy is expected. Maybe I could help you find one of them, or you could keep seeing me outside of this facility if that would help.”

I searched her face. “Maybe.”

“Trust is hard to build with any therapist or psychologist. Your situation makes it even harder, and I’m sorry this has been your experience with life.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Can you tell me about the roof?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Can we talk about the last time they admitted you? You missed some tour stops, and your manager put you into a drug detox program.”

I laughed. “I guess.”

“What happened then? Why were you admitted?”

“Because—” I thought about not telling her. But I’d already said this much. “I like to be up on the roof. It’s where I speak to my brother. It worried people. I wasn’t suicidal, but I think between the drugs and my grief, they didn’t know what to do with me, and then I—” I didn’t want to tell her about Caspian. I didn’t want the world to blame him if this ever got out. Not when I just started to forgive him. “I said the wrong thing to a close friend, who was worried about me, and asked about the roof and if I was suicidal. I told him I wasn’t actively suicidal, that I was passively suicidal. I wasn’t going to kill myself, but if I died, I wouldn’t mind, and they didn’t take it well.”

She didn’t respond right away. “I think there is a difference. There are levels of depression and suicidal ideation. There are people who wish they’d fall asleep and never wake up. Is that a form of being suicidal? Yes. But it doesn’t sound like you were a danger to yourself. Suicidal ideation is different than being suicidal. It wasn’t the type that would get you put on a psych hold, but it’s still important for you to receive treatment for it.”

“It is different, and I wasn’t suicidal. I was receiving treatment weekly.”

“I know you were, but maybe the schedule and the work commitments weren’t helping.”

“I don’t know. I’m torn on that. I wanted to quit, but I didn’t want to let the other guys down, and if I wasn’t busy, I’d have to focus on it. I’d have to live with myself. Being busy is easier.” I also loved making music.

“It is easier to not deal with things, but it makes them worse.” She paused. “So it sounds like your trust was broken, and you were forced into a program?”

“Yes.”

“That must have made it harder to trust people.”

“Yes,” I admitted, my heart constricting, hating myself a little for how hard I’d pushed Caspian away. It took away the only person I trusted, and I hated him for doing that to me. For taking away my safe space. He was all I had.

“Were you suicidal two nights ago?”

“No.” I didn’t want to give her an answer that would get me to stay here.

“Off the record, completely?” she held my gaze.

I looked her right in the eyes. It felt like a trap, so I shrugged my shoulders. If there was one gift abusive parents gave me, it was the ability to look someone in the eyes and lie to them without remorse or reaction. When you had to protect yourself, you learned to lie and lie well. “No. I’m not suicidal. I want to go home and climb into bed with my boyfriend.” It wasn’t a lie. Not fully. I wasn’t suicidal anymore. I didn’t know how I was going to escape any of what Alexander would do.

But I wanted to live.

I wanted to be with Caspian.

“I believe you.”

Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”

“If you had to tell me right now what happiness looked like for you, what would it be?” she asked, catching me completely off guard.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should think about that over the next two days.”

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