Chapter 13 | There's A Lot To Like About You

“You’re only human—you don’t have to have it together every minute of every day.” ― Bride Wars

The sound of a constant beeping is what I wake up to. I have no idea what it is but it’s really annoying and the consistency of it is giving me a major migraine. Obviously, I’m not at home because if I were, that sound would not be happening. The disgustingly familiar smell of Lysol disinfectant fills my nostrils and I feel a gentle tug on my arm, in the crevice. I peel my eyes open and my immediate reflex is to snap them shut again because wherever I am right now, tis’ really bright and the light hurts my eyes. I don’t close them though, I just look over to my right, towards the source of the aggravating beeping sound. My eyes land on a machine thing with a set of green jagged-y lines and some weird numbers on it. I’m not an idiot—I know that it’s a heart monitor machine and from that, I conclude that I’m in the hospital but I can’t imagine why that is because I feel fine.

I turn my head away from the heart monitor machine thing when I hear the faint sound of cheering and chanting. I notice a small TV in the room hanging from the ceiling. It looks really weird and unconventional but there’s a (college?) basketball game playing on it with the volume down low. There’s a sound of a throat being cleared and then I avert my eyes away from the TV and see Beckett sitting on a small and very uncomfortable looking couch in the room. He’s watching the game, which means he’s facing away from me, so he clearly doesn’t know that I’m awake yet. I notice then that Aspen’s in the room too, but she’s asleep. Asleep on Beckett, I might add, as in, her head is resting in his lap.

“Beckett,” I rasp in a hoarse voice, trying to get my brother’s attention so that he can explain to me what happened and why I’m in the hospital. I really, really hate hospitals a lot.

Beckett diverts his attention away from the TV at the sound of my voice then and carefully lifts Aspen’s head out of his lap, putting her down on a pillow before standing to his feet and crossing the room over to where I’m lying in the lumpy hospital bed. “Hey baby sister,” He greets with a small smile and I know he says it because he knows I hate it.

“Hi,” I respond before clearing my throat so my voice isn’t weird and hoarse anymore. “Why am I in the hospital?” I wonder, looking up at my big brother with a confused look.

“You don’t remember?” He asks me in an incredulous tone as if whatever happened to me should be so evident.

“Obviously not,” I reply, shaking my head, which proves to be a bad idea because it just intensifies my headache.

“Well, what’s the last thing you remember?” He wonders, pulling an armchair up to the side of the bed and sitting.

“The last thing that I remember is,” I say after thinking about it for a minute. I stop short though, not answering him.

“Is what?” Beckett urges, raising his eyebrows in question.

Honestly though, the last thing that I can fully and clearly remember is throwing up in the downstairs bathroom and then crying like the biggest baby in the world to Graham for about thirty minutes straight while Beckett was beating the life out of Flynn. I’m not going to tell Beckett that though because he’s super weird and super overprotective (as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now) and surely he would make a big deal out of me letting myself be vulnerable or whatever around Graham and I just don’t want to deal with that right now.

“Um, Flynn showing up,” I reply, which is basically the truth.

“Right,” Beckett awkwardly sighs, running his fingers through his short brown hair. “You kind of have an accident, Sawyer,” He tells me and he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“What kind of accident?” I demand to know, still extremely confused.

“Um, well, I don’t exactly—” Beckett starts to explain but he’s cut off.

“Well, Dr. Madigan said that—” My mom announces, walking into the room. When she glances over at me and sees that I’m awake though, she quickly abandons her statement. “Oh my sweet baby,” She says, hurrying over to me then in her high heels, kneeling and wrapping her arms around me so tightly that I’m basically suffocating from asphyxiation.

“Hi mom,” I awkwardly greet, pulling away from her smothering hug. “When’d you come home from Australia?” I ask her, knowing she wasn’t supposed to be home until the 30th.

“Yesterday, as soon as Beckett called me,” She explains. “Oh honey, I had no idea that you were still in such a bad place—you told me that you were better,” My mom sighs.

“Mother, I am fine,” I assure her with an inaudible sigh. “Will someone please tell me what happened?” I plead, starting to freak out a little bit because I really can’t remember it.

“Beckett, why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and tell Sawyer’s friends that she’s awake and that they can come up and see her in a little bit?” My mom says to Beckett then.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Beckett agrees and I think that he gets the hint that our mother wants for the two of us to be alone for whatever she needs to tell me—that means it’s serious.

“Mom, you’re seriously scaring me,” I tell her truthfully once Beckett leaves the room and the heavy mahogany door closes shut behind him.

“Sawyer, you overdosed on Christmas night,” She explains, sitting down in the chair that Beckett sat in a few minutes ago, grabbing my hand.

“O-overdosed?” I repeat, my eyes bugging a little bit at this newfound information. “I-I don’t understand. Overdosed on what, exactly?” I query.

“On your medications,” My mother tells me then. “Do you really not remember any of this?” She questions as if my not remembering is insane.

Instead of answering my mother’s question, I just blink a few times and think as hard as I can, trying to remember even taking pills on Christmas night. After coming up short, I huff an annoyed breath and then shut my eyes tight, straining my brain. Only then do I start to remember what apparently happened on the night of Christmas. Well, a part of it.

“Are you alright now?” Graham asks me once I’ve finally composed myself and managed to stop crying into his chest after about half an hour.

“No, but I think that I’m all out of tears and I have a headache,” I wail with my face still pressed into his shoulder while he gently rubs my back.

“Do you want me to take you up to your bedroom? You can try and get some sleep and by the time you wake up, Flynn will be back in a jail cell.”

“Yeah,” I quietly say in agreement with a small nod. Usually, I’m not quite so dependent on people—especially not on people of the opposite sex.

Graham unwraps his strong arm from around me and stands to his feet before reaching his hand down and offering it to me. I take it and he pulls me up from the titled bathroom floor and I awkwardly clear my throat, which hurts a lot now, probably from all of that puking that I did a little bit ago. I expect him to open the door, since he’s a lot closer to it than I am but he doesn’t. Instead, Graham takes a half a step closer to me and wraps one of his arms around my back, then kneels down a little bit, putting his other arm behind my knees and scooping me up in his arms bridal style. I let out an involuntary squeal of surprise because I obviously wasn’t expecting him to randomly pick me up just now.

“Oh my gosh- what’re you doing?” I squeak, wrapping my arm around his neck because I’m petrified of him dropping me. I mean, I’m sure he won’t but I’m a really paranoid girl.

“I’m taking you upstairs to your room, obviously,” Graham informs me with a slight grin. “I’m pretty sure you’ll fall if you try to make it upstairs and that’ll be really bad,” He says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” I admit sheepishly. “Is he gone now, do you think?” I ask him as he pushes open the bathroom door and walk out, closing it behind us.

“I’m not sure,” Graham replies with a shrug. “I don’t hear your brother suffocating his face into the carpet anymore though, so yeah, maybe the police came and picked him up.”

I nod in response even though I don’t really even believe it. I mean, surely if the police had come to my house and picked up Flynn, I would have heard them talking or at least head the sirens on their cars or something. I’m just trying to be optimistic though because if I start thinking realistically (which would be thinking that Flynn’s still out there) then I’ll start hyperventilating and freaking out and then I’ll most likely be back in the bathroom, puking my lugs out. I really don’t want that to happen, mostly because Graham’s already witnessed enough of my grossly embarrassing crying and puking. I tell Graham the alternate way upstairs, the way that avoids going through the living room, and once we reach the second floor, I tell him which room is mine. He pushes the door to my bedroom open and then kicks it closed with his foot, walking me over to my bed. Graham pulls the covers back and then gently drops me on my bed, pulling them over on top of me.

“I promise I’m not this crazy all the time,” I tell Graham, turning over and looking up at him.

“I don’t think you’re crazy at all,” Graham assures me. “I’m gonna go downstairs and make sure the police came and got him,” He informs me, turning to leave my room.

“Wait,” I say, pushing myself up on my elbows.

“Yeah?” Graham replies, turning back around.

“Um, this is gonna sound incredibly…needy but, erm, can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?” I ask hopefully. I know that sounds really desperate but I don’t wanna be alone now.

“Given the circumstances of what all happened today, I think it’s alright for you to be a little needy,” Graham replies before sitting on the other side of my bed. “I’ll stay,” He adds.

“I didn’t even get to give you your Christmas present,” I whine, rolling back over in my bed so that I’m facing where he’s sitting.

“It’s okay, Sawyer,” Graham assures me with a light chuckle. “You can give it to me later, once you’re feeling better,” He says. “Just try and get a little sleep now though, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod before closing my eyes and trying to fall asleep with the hopes that when I wake up, all of this will be over, Tom will be gone very far away and Flynn will be in jail.

It doesn’t last very long though, my slumber, I mean. A couple of hours later, I randomly wake up alone in my bedroom. I’m not surprised that I’m alone though because I did only ask Graham to stay until I fell asleep. Besides, knowing Beckett, he probably kicked Graham out of my room the second that he found out that we were alone here in my room because he’s dumb and overprotective like that.

My stomach growls loudly and I sit up in my bed, pushing my messy hair out of my face and checking the time on my phone—11:50, which means that I was only asleep for about three hours or so. I didn’t eat dinner or anything, which explains the growling stomach. Since I didn’t eat, that means that I didn’t take my medication, because I only take them with food. Apparently if you take them without good, the effect is countered or something like that. Dr. Fontana told me that if I don’t take them every day though, things will get bad. I don’t know exactly what he means by that but I don’t want to find out, so I decide that I’ll take them now.

I stand up from my bed and slip out of my bedroom, walking down the stairs as quietly as I possibly can so that I don’t wake Aspen or Beckett up. That’s assuming they’re even sleep. They both usually go to bed in the wee hours of the morning, so there’s really no telling. Granted, I do the exact same thing whenever I’m on Netflix binges, so I can’t like, judge them for it or anything.

I make my way down the stairs and through the living room to the kitchen, which is where my mom makes me keep my medication. She doesn’t trust me to take it unsupervised, I think. She won’t admit it but I know that it’s the truth. I walk over to the cupboard where we keep stuff like Aspirin, Tylenol and things of that nature, along with my medication and take the two orange bottles out. The anti-depressant is the medicine that I’m supposed to take twice a day and the anxiety pills are just when I feel like I really need them.

I pop the cap off of the anti-depressant pills and take two capsules out before putting the bottle back. Then I take one anxiety pill out of the other bottle and place it back into the cabinet, closing it. Like I said, I can’t take the pills without eating food for some reason, so I go over to the bread box and take out two slices of bread, pushing them down in the toaster. I’m sure toast won’t fill me up but I just need enough food to take my medicine with and then I’ll be good. While the toast is toasting, I go over to the refrigerator and pull and unopened bottle or water out, along with the butter.

Once my toast pops up from the toaster, I take the slices out and set them down on a plate, slathering them both with butter. Then I take a sip or water, about to swallow the pills. Obviously, I’m not going to swallow all three at once because that’d be a little difficult. Before I can take the first pill though, Aspen enters the room with her arms crossed.

“You’re not taking all of that medicine at once, are you?” Aspen asks me curiously, raising her eyebrows in question at me as she sits plops on one of the bar stool chairs then.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a nod, taking a bite from one of my pieces of toast. “I’m supposed to take two anti-depressant pill a day—once at breakfast and once at dinner and after that whole Thom and Flynn fiasco, I definitely need at least one anxiety pill,” I explain to my best friend, taking my toast and water along with my pills and sitting across from her.

“But it’s not breakfast or dinner time,” She informs me, as if that much wasn’t already obvious.

“Well, yeah, but I think that I’m still supposed to take them,” I tell her, taking a sip from my water.

“Maybe you should just take one anxiety pill now and wait until tomorrow to take the anti-depressants? I’m sure missing one day won’t do too much damage,” She assures me.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell Aspen with a dismissive hand wave. She and Beckett are just both so worrisome and it’s actually a bit ridiculous. They’d make a lovely couple though.

“Okay,” Aspen replies and I can tell that there’s something else she wants to say but she doesn’t. “Well, I’m gonna go watch Elf, do you wanna watch it with me?” She asks me.

“I kinda just wanna go back to bed so that when I wake up again, this disastrous Christmas will be over,” I admit with a sigh, shaking my head. “But I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Well, if you want to talk about it, you know that I’m only like, two doors down,” She tells me, standing up and walks over to me, pulling me into a hug. “I love you, best friend.”

“I love you too, Aspen,” I reply truthfully, returning my best friend’s huge. “Goodnight,” I add as Aspen walks out of the kitchen then and I swallow down the pills one by one.

“Sawyer!” My mom exclaims and I instantly snap out of my flashback from Christmas night.

“Yeah?” I reply, looking up at her then, taking note of the crazy look that she’s sending me.

“You blanked out on me for like, five minutes,” She informs me, still looking at me like I’m a crazy person. Granted, she actually does think I’m crazy and this I know for a fact.

“I remember it now,” I inform my mom with a small sigh, running my fingers through my hair.

“You remember overdosing?” She asks with that weird look still on her face.

“You…you don’t think I tried to kill myself, do you?” I ask her curiously because by the way she’s looking at me, I’m assuming that’s the first thought that occurred in her head.

“Yes, I do!” My mom exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ve been taking your meds without any kind of problems for a year now and on the same day that your father and Flynn randomly show up at the house, you ‘accidently’ overdose? I’m not buying it, Sawyer. Do you understand now why I have you seeing Dr. Fontana five days a week? You skip a couple of sessions and things like this happen, Sawyer,” She says and I lie there, staring at her in disbelief because she’s acting being so ridiculous right now.

“Mom, you’re being crazy,” I inform her with a loud sigh. “I know you think I’m crazy and I guess I understand why, but I’m not. I swear to you that it was an accident,” I tell her.

“Honey, I know that you’re not crazy,” My mother replies, squeezing my hand. “And as bad as I want to believe that it was a mistake, I just don’t. I just can’t,” She explains to me.

“That medicine is really powerful, mom. I understand that concept perfectly clearly. If I really wanted to be dead, don’t you think I’d be dead by now?” I question, rolling my eyes.

My mom opens her mouth to respond but before she can actually get a single word out, there’s a sharp knock at the door and then a brunette lady enters the room. She looks like she’s about forty or somewhere around there and judging by the stethoscope and clipboard, I assume she’s my doctor. “Hi Sawyer,” The woman says. “I’m Dr. Madigan.”

“Hi,” I reply with a small, forced smile, looking away from my mother, who really just intensified my headache by about a million. I know she didn’t mean to but she just really did.

“Ms. Jameson, is it alright if I have a just few minutes alone with Sawyer?” Dr. Madigan asks my mother who just nods and stands up, leaving the room without one single word.

“How’re you feeling, Sawyer?” Dr. Madigan asks me, walking over to my heart monitor machine and looking at the numbers, copying them down onto the clipboard in her hands.

“I feel just fine,” I truthfully inform her. “Well, my stomach kind of hurts but aside from that, I feel just peachy,” I tell her and I think it comes out more sarcastic than I’d intended it.

“That would be because we had to pump your stomach to get all of that medication out,” She casually explains, as if this is the normal for her, still writing stuff on her clipboard.

“You think I tried to kill myself too?” I wonder, expecting her to say yes because if my mom thinks it, then surely the doctor thinks it. She shakes her head, which surprises me.

“No, I know it was accidental. If you really wanted to commit suicide, I’m sure you would have taken far more than three pills,” Dr. Madigan tells me, which is so sensible to me.

“Did you try telling her that? Because she seems to think otherwise,” I sigh, referring to my mom.

“I’ve tried to explain it to her,” Dr. Madigan assures me with a nod. “It’s just different for a parent.”

“Well, when do I get to go home?” I ask her, hoping that she says sometime soon because I hate hospitals. They’re so gross and they smell weird and I just hate them so much.

“Oh, in a couple of days—four, maybe five,” She explains like that’s normal. If today’s the 26th, that means that in five days, it’ll be New Year’s Eve and I am not spending it here.

“A couple of days?” I repeat with a confused look on my face. “But why?” I whine. “I want to go home now and I feel fine right now aside from a little stomach acid but that’s all.”

“Given your history, you parents think that it’s best to place you under suicide watch,” She explains slowly. “You’ll be moved to a room in the psych ward in a couple of hours.”

“Psych ward?” I echo, my eyes bugging out a little bit. “I don’t need to be in a psych ward. I’m fine! It was an accidental overdose, not a suicide attempt!” I tell her with a groan.

“Look, Sawyer, I realize that it was accidently. Your parents—your father, especially—are both very adamant about you being moved to the psych ward. Now, we usually don’t just cave in to parent’s requests unless we can actually prove that you’re a threat to yourself. Taking into account everything that you’ve gone through in the past year though, it might not be such a bad idea.” Dr. Madigan informs me then and I groan internally because that’s so like my father. He’s so stupid and manipulative and I just hate him so much.

“Don’t I have a say in this?” I ask desperately.

“I’m sorry but you’re a minor—I have to go by your parent’s orders,” She says. “Speaking of which, your father is right outside waiting to see you,” Dr. Madigan informs me then.

“Can’t you just tell him that I’m fine and that I don’t want to talk to him because I don’t,” I stubbornly huff, crossing my arms across my chest in irritation because I’m so annoyed.

“I’ll tell him but I can’t exactly keep him out,” Dr. Madigan informs me. “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple of hours,” She tells me before turning and walking out of the room.

As Dr. Madigan leaves, Tom enters the room and walks over to the side of the bed, glaring down at me with a weird look on his face. “Sawyer, how nice of you to join us again.”

I roll my eyes and then sigh loudly, “Tom, can you please just leave? I already have a headache and I’m in a bad mood because you’re forcing them to put me in a psych ward.”

“I’m not forcing them to do anything at all, Sawyer. I requested that they move you to the psych ward because that’s what’s best for you. It’s really not my fault that you’re crazy.”

“I am not crazy,” I grumble in annoyance, rolling my eyes at him because he’s just so annoying and bothersome.

“No, you’re pretty crazy, but that’s alright, dear—we all have flaws,” He says with a smug grin on his dumb face.

“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish by being back home?” I wonder, disregarding his previous statement.

“Obviously, I’m getting the family back together. It’s gonna be the four of us again, just like old times,” He tells me.

“It’s been six years—it’s a bit too late to go back to ‘old times’,” I say because even though it’s harsh, it’s the truth. I’m sure Beckett’s the only one happy that Tom is back now.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Tom replies, not even bothering to defend his ridiculous assumption.

“Yeah, I guess we will,” I murmur. “Can you please just go? You’re the second to last person I want to see right now.”

“You’re a lot bitchier than you were six years ago,” Tom notes. “But if that’s what you want, fine. I’ll go but I’m here to stay—get used to it.” He says before walking out the room.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“So, who found me?” I randomly ask my friends about an hour later as the four of us are in my hospital room talking. Beckett, my mom and Tom are here but not in the room.

“I did,” Aspen tells me. “Yesterday morning, I came in your room and tried to wake you up but you were like, dead to the world and super unresponsive,” She explains to me.

“Yesterday morning?” I echo in confusion. “Is today not the 26th?” I hadn’t thought that I’d been like, out of it for a full day but if she found me yesterday morning, I guess I was.

“It’s the 27th,” Sienna interjects. Apparently, she caught the first flight from Holland back home when she found out that I was in the hospital as a result of an apparent overdose, which was so lovely of her and I’m glad that she did because she’s my best friend and I missed her. I mean, she was only gone for about two weeks but still, that’s like, the most time we’ve ever spent apart in our entire friendship. Surely though, her parents will probably try to force her to come back to the Netherlands pretty soon but hopefully she won’t.

“So, I was out for forty-eight hours?” I wonder.

“More like thirty-six hours,” Piper chimes from the armchair on the other side of my bed. The couch in here only sits two people, so that’s where Aspen and Sienna are sitting.

Speaking of Piper, she’s in a much better mood now than she was when I last spoke to her, which was on Christmas. She told us that Jason ‘surprised’ her on the day after Christmas- so, yesterday- by showing up at her house in the ridiculously dangerous and inclement weather and like, professed his love for her and all that good stuff. I guess he get her a really amazing Christmas present or had a really great apology speech or something because she says that they’re not fighting anymore and that they’re a hundred percent back together.

She still won’t say why they broke up though and since Jason hesitated to tell Aspen when she threatened him, I’m getting that it was either something little and stupid or something large and insignificant. I guess I’ll never know though. It’s really ironic though because Aspen hates Jason so, so much and wants him out of her life more than anything, yet if she hadn’t called and bullied him into coming back to town and making things right with Piper, they would have stayed broken up for good, I think.

“Speaking of which, I just texted your boyfriend to tell him that you’re awake and he said that he’s on his way here right now,” Sienna casually informs me, waving her iPhone.

“How many times do I have to tell you that he’s not my boyfriend before you actually start believing it?” I ask her with a small laugh.

“You can tell me that as many times as you like but it’s not going to change anything because sooner or later, you and Graham will stop being dumb and Grawyer will be born.”

“You’re so stupid,” I inform my idiotic and very meddlesome best friend.

“I think she’s pretty spot on with that,” Aspen notes in defense of Sienna.

“You would think that,” I scoff, playfully rolling my eyes at the two of them.

“Piper, don’t you agree that Grawyer would be so cute?” Aspen questions.

“Oh yeah, without a doubt,” Piper chirps with a nod without skipping a beat.

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask in a desperate attempt to change the topic. “Like how I’m being moved to the crazy center at any minute now?” I suggest with a sigh.

“It’s not the crazy center—it’s the psych ward,” Sienna reminds me with a laugh. “The rehabilitation center in Switzerland that I went to had one and I went a few times—it’s fun.”

“What’s so fun about being trapped in a large room with crazy people?” I ask.

“They’re not crazy,” Sienna tells me. “They let us color a lot,” She adds then.

“I am seventeen years old—I do not want to spend my time coloring,” I sigh.

“Well, maybe they’ll let you bring that fancy art stuff that your boyfriend got you for Christmas,” Aspen notes, obviously referring to the amazingly perfect presents from Graham.

“Yeah and maybe it’ll be like it was when Spencer was in Radley,” Piper adds. “It didn’t seem like she was having the worst time there,” She says, referring to Pretty Little Liars.

“Okay but that’s a scripted television show—this is real life,” I remind my weird friend.

“You worry way too much, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Aspen tells me in response.

I’m about to open my mouth and refute that statement but before I can, there’s a knock on the door and I assume that it’s Dr. Madigan saying that it’s time for me to be moved to the crazy center. When the door opens and someone walks in though, it’s definitely not Dr. Madigan. It’s actually Graham—I guess he was on his way here before Sienna text—and he’s holding a large bouquet of white roses and I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that they’re white because at the Winter Formal, I told him that white is my favorite color.

“Seriously Sawyer, Graham’s like the sweetest guy on the planet and not to mention he’s gorgeous so you need to like, hop on that before someone else does.” Aspen warns.

“Gee, thanks for the advice, Aspen,” I sarcastically reply, playfully rolling my eyes at her.

“You’re very welcome,” Aspen chimes before standing up, along with Sienna and Piper.

“Hi Graham,” My three ridiculously weird and abnormal best friends say in unison, walking past Graham and out of the room before I can tell them that they don’t have to leave.

“Hi Graham,” I greet him with a small smile as he walks over to the side of my bed and plops down in the armchair.

“Hey Sawyer,” Graham replies, handing me the bouquet of flowers—they’re so gorgeous, especially like, up close.

“Thanks—they’re beautiful,” I truthfully say to him, making a mental note to ask for a vase of water to put them in at the crazy center.

“Yeah, I think you’re supposed to get flowers for people when they’re in the hospital and I remember that you said your favorite color is white,” He explains.

“How can you even remember that? It was like, a month ago and I can’t even remember stuff that I did last week,” I reply, which makes him laugh.

“I dunno—I don’t talk to that many people, so I guess I just have a good memory or something,” Graham tells me.

“I find that very hard to believe, seeing as how you’re Mr. Popular,” I reply. It’s true, Graham’s insanely popular around town, which is how I already knew of him before he transferred to Jamestown nearly two months ago. I’m actually still having a hard time believing that he doesn’t have a girlfriend—he’s just so perfect and wonderful and nice.

“I guess so,” Graham chuckles. “Anyway though, how’re you feeling?” He wonders, changing the topic from him to me.

“Physically, I feel great,” I tell him. “Otherwise though, not so great because my parents think that I’m psychotic and they’re forcing me to be moved to the crazy center.”

“I’m sure they’re not doing it because they think you’re psychotic,” Graham says in defense of my awful parents. Well, my mom isn’t awful, not usually, that’s really just Tom.

“Nope, I’m sure that’s the reason. And because they hate me,” I explain. “Well, at least my dad hates me,” I add. “Which is totally fine with me because I hate him right back.”

“Why would your dad hate you?” Graham wonders, obviously confused by this. “I mean, you are kind of amazing.”

“Do you practice being so sweet or does it just like, happen?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and glancing over at him.

“It just happens that way,” He assures me with a shrug and a crooked smile. “Seriously though, I’m sure it won’t be so had.”

“I guess not,” I reply. “You know, if you promise you’ll come to see me at least every other day,” I say then, even though it sounds kinda clingy.

“Does that mean you enjoy my presence?” Graham wonders even though I think it’s pretty obvious that I like hanging out with him and having him around.

“I enjoy your presence very much,” I confirm with a nod, running my fingers through my hair, which I’m sure looks absolutely awful since I haven’t brushed it in two days now.

“Well, in that case, I promise I’ll come visit you every day in the crazy center,” He assures me.

“Good,” I chime with a grin. I know that like, Beckett would come every day and maybe my friends would too but it’ll be fun having Graham visit me. I mean, I don’t know what there’s to do in the crazy center aside from talking to the other crazy people and like, playing checkers and whatnot. I dunno, I have a pretty goodtime when I’m with Graham whenever we hang out. Well, not counting Christmas when Flynn showed up and I basically had a mental breakdown and Graham pretty much took care of me throughout it. 

“On the bright side though, I’m sure they’ll like, restrict access to Flynn at the psychiatric ward, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Graham informs me. “I mean, not that you would’ve had to worry about him otherwise because like I said, I’ll breaking both of his legs if I have to,” He assures me and I can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s just kidding.

“How charismatic of you,” I laugh lightly, taking comfort in the fact that Flynn probably won’t be able to get to me. “Wait, does that mean the police didn’t arrest him?” I ask him.

“I thought you knew,” Graham murmurs. “But no, they didn’t. Apparently by the time they got to your house on Christmas, he was gone,” He awkwardly explains then with a sigh.

“Why am I not surprised?” I mumble with a shaky sigh. I really hope that he doesn’t casually show up here before I’m transferred because I just cannot handle seeing him again.

“If I knew that you didn’t know, I wouldn’t have said anything,” Graham tells me with a guilty look.

“No, it’s alright,” I honestly respond. “It’s better to know that he’s still out there so that when he tries to kill me, I’ll be prepared.”

“You’re very dramatic, you know that, don’t you?” He wonders with a grin.

“So I’ve been told,” I reply, mocking his grin because his smile is kind of contagious. I don’t really want to worry about Flynn right now though, so I change the topic. “So, do you remember when I asked you if you liked me like, a month ago?” I ask Graham then.

“Yes, I do recall that,” Graham confirms with a nod.

“And do you remember what you said?”

“I said you could ask me again when we were actual friends,” He replies.

“And we’re actual friends now, yes?” I ask even though we’ve already established that.

“Indeed we are,” Graham responds with a nod. “I take it that means you’re gonna ask me again now?”

“I am,” I assure him, nodding and pressing the button on the side of the bed that makes it go up in a sitting position. “So you do? Like me, I mean.”

“I do,” He assures me with a nod and not even a hint of hesitation.

“Well, like, how much?” I wonder just because I’m really curious and trying to keep my mind off of Flynn.

“A lot?” Graham nonchalantly says. “I don’t really know how to answer that,” He informs me with a laugh.

“How about on like, a scale from one to fifteen?”

“Uh, like a thirteen point five,” He tells me then after thinking about it for a few seconds.

“Wow, that's a lot,” I chirp with an involuntary giggle. I have no idea where it even comes from- it just happens.

“Well, there’s a lot to like about you,” Graham replies and I feel my face flush red then. 

Author's Note: Happy Sundays, lovelies! 

1. So many lovely comments last chapter- thanks a bunch for that!

2. This chapter is dedicated to ahnaduhbanana because I loved her comment on chapter 12 the most. Don't forget that whoever leaves the comment on this chapter that I love the most gets the next chapter dedicated to them! 

3. Thoughts on this chapter? Predictions for the next? Thoughts on Graham? Sawyer? Tom? Beckett? Anyone? Speaking of which, a lot of people have been asking when they'll find out the full story of what happened between Sawyer and Flynn and I'll just go ahead and say it here so that everyone can see it- the full story will be revealed in chapter 16, so just hold on for a couple more chapters and you'll know <3

4. Notice the picture- Brenton Thwaites, who plays Flynn Decker, even though he wasn't actually in the chapter. He was mentioned a lot though, I think. The song is A Twist In My Story by Secondhand Serenade! 

I'll see you beautiful people next Sunday! <3