Chapter 14 | Butterflies & Rainbows & Unicorns & Glitter

“We come to love not by finding a perfect person but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.” ― Up

“You like, really suck at this game, you know,” Ava tells me, checkmating me for the third time in a row.

“Thanks,” I sarcastically reply as we both reset our sides of the chessboard, starting a new game then.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” She assures me. “That was me throwing shade,” Ava adds for clarification.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Captain Obvious,” I respond with a small laugh before moving one of my pieces.

“So, what’re you doing here?” She randomly asks me, sliding one of her white pawns across the board.

“Here being the psych ward?” I ask and when she nods, I sigh heavily. “Well, my mom thinks that I tried to kill myself and my dad just kind of hates me a whole bunch, so they had me admitted,” I tell her.

“Why would your own dad hate you?” Ava curiously wonders as I move one of my black pawn pieces across the board. We’ve been playing chess for the past half hour and I have lost every single game.

“He’s just crazy,” I reply. Tom really is a psycho—he’s the one that belongs here, not me. “Well, that and the fact that I refused to beg his parents for a quarter of a million dollars to get him out of prison.”

“Holy shit,” Ava replies, her eyes bugging out a little. “A quarter of a million dollars? What the fuck did your dad do? Kidnap the President?” Ava asks me then as if a $250,000 bond is just so super rare.

“If he tried to kidnap the President of the United States, I’m pretty positive he’d still be in prison,” I inform Ava with a laugh, pushing a lock of my hair behind my ear. “But yeah, he, erm, he killed someone.”

“Your dad killed someone?” She questions in an incredulous tone of voice, missing a perfect opportunity to capture another one of my pawns. I don’t say anything though because I actually want to win.

“I mean, it wasn’t like, on purpose or anything but it was still his fault,” I reply. “He’s always had a slight drinking problem and one night he was drinking and driving, which was basically a pretty normal thing for him. He went through a red light on this particular night though and ran head-on into another car, killing the driver,” I explain, recalling the event that sent Tom to prison six years ago. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, he didn’t even like, try to help the man. I mean, if he had gotten out of his car or even just called an ambulance, that guy might’ve made it. He didn’t try to help him though, he just drove away like did nothing wrong.”

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Ava notes, crinkling her nose in distaste and shaking her head.

“Do you always swear so much?” I ask Ava, noticing how weirdly vulgar her vocabulary is.

“Pretty much, yeah, I do,” She confirms with a nod. “But anyway though, did you?”

“Did I what?” I ask her in confusion, finally managing to capture one of her pawns.

“Like, try to kill yourself? You said that’s why your parents had you admitted, right? Were they at least right?”

“Oh, right. No, I didn’t try to commit suicide,” I tell her honestly. “My psychologist has me on a couple of different medications and I accidently overdosed.”

“So, you made a mistake and your parents just forced you to come here? That’s literally the stupidest thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” Ava tells me then.

In case you haven’t figured it out already, Ava is a patient here at the crazy center. Today is my second day being in here and she’s really the only person that I’ve talked to, aside from members of the staff. She’s actually a little bit scary, Ava is, because she has a really intimidating look and a dangerously rambunctious attitude. I mean, she’s pretty small and petite looking but she has these sorta creepy, piercing blue eyes and her hair is cut really short, like into a pixie cut.

Not to mention the fact that she swears like a sailor. She’s really nice though. Well, she’s really nice to me anyway. Yesterday at lunch though, one of the guy patients who looked like he was about her age (she’s 16) stole her pudding and she kicked him so hard in his male parts that he had to leave the psych ward and go over to the hospital and get that checked out. He hasn’t been back yet either and it’s been over twenty four hours, so that’s kind of scary. I’m pretty sure he was just trying to be cute and flirty or something but that plan evidently backfired on him, which is sad.

Speaking of the psych ward, it’s terrible and stupid and I hate it here and I want to go home. Basically, it’s composed of two sections- section one (that’s where I am) is for people ages thirteen to nineteen and then there’s section two, which is for people who are between twenty and thirty-five. I have no idea what crazy people that are younger than thirteen and older than thirty-five do but they’re not allowed here, which is a bit discriminating of the crazy center, I think, but oh well.

Anyway though, every morning at 10:00, we’re woken up via very annoying alarm clocks in our rooms that don’t have snooze buttons. So, once the dumb alarm clocks go off, we go to breakfast, unless we choose to sleep through it, which is a really dumb thing to do, because that’s when most of us have to take our medications.

After breakfast, we have two options. We can either go outside, where we can play basketball or soccer or just talk to the other patients (it’s about ten degrees out there though and it’s snowing, which is exactly why I’m not going out there) or we can come to the common room, which is where Ava and I are right now. It’s really just a huge room full of crap, the common room is.

There’s an old TV that only gets three channels (the local news, the game show channel and the Lifetime Movie Network channel), an electrical fireplace, a really old looking grand piano and a few tables that are set up for playing board games or chess or whatever on. Then we have lunch at 2 (that was about an hour ago), dinner at 7 and lights are out at 10. As I’m sure you can imagine, it really sucks and it’s quite possibly the very worst way a person can spend a Christmas vacation from school. Thankfully though, there really aren’t that many people here in the psych ward, which is good because I’m not good with people, let along large numbers of people.

“I know,” I say in response to Ava’s statement. “What about you? What’d you do to land yourself in here?” I ask her then, trying to get the focus off of myself.

“I was diagnosed with schizophrenia like, two months ago and my grandma thought that it’d be safer for me in here than out there, so here I am,” Ava states.

“It seems like you’d be just fine outside of this place,” I note, which I truly believe. I don’t see how she hasn’t actually lost her mind though, being here so long.

“I know, right?” Ava replies in agreement. “I’m getting my final evaluation in two weeks though and if they decide that I’m ‘mentally stable’ enough to leave, they’ll discharge me,” She says moving her pawn then.

“Well, good luck,” I respond. I don’t know if I’ll have to go through a final evaluation before they release me but I hope not. It’s not like I have anything to do, it’s just that I don’t want to be here on New Year’s Eve.

“Yeah, you too,” Ava replies as I make my move and then she knocks one of my pieces away. “Checkmate—I win. Again,” She announces in a singsong voice.

“Wow, okay, I quit,” I declare in response, deciding that I’m tired of losing this stupid game. I don’t really understand it, which is probably the reason I can’t win.

“That’s probably an amazing idea,” Ava laughs, clearing the board and putting it back into its tattered little box. “You can try your luck at checkers, if you want.”

Since it’s not like I actually have anything better to do than to have my butt kicked in a game of checkers, I’m about to agree to it but before I can, an orderly (her name is Meryl, I think) walks over. In case you don’t know what an orderly is, it’s basically just a person who attends to the patients without giving them any actual medical care. They really just bring us our dinner to our rooms, watch us take our medicine, make sure that we abide by the stupid and strict psych ward rules and tells us when we have visitors. Speaking of visitors, I haven’t gotten any yet because apparently yesterday (my first day) I wasn’t allowed to have any, which is so stupid.

“Hey, Ava, Max is here to see you,” Meryl informs Ava, who immediately starts smiling. Max is her boyfriend and I know this because she talks about him a lot.

“Yay!” Ava cheers. “He’ll only be here for like, an hour, so when he’s gone, we can play,” She tells me. “You’re quite possibly the worst board game player ever though, so you should practice,” Ava playfully says.

“You’re not very funny, you know,” I inform her with a laugh, just so that she knows that I’m not actually offended. I mean, I am awful at board games but it’s because I’m a millennial—we don’t play board games.

“I happen to know that I am hilarious,” She replies in a matter-of-fact tone of voice before standing up. “Anyway, I’ll see you in a little bit,” Ava says before following Meryl out of the common room to where Max is.

When Ava is gone, I decide that I’m not going to just sit here and look all alone and weird. Eight of the twenty people in my section are guys, so I’m not going to talk to any of them for obvious reasons. Not including Ava and me though, there’s ten other girls here that I could potentially befriend. I look around the common room then and see that only two of them are actually in here, which means that the other six must be either asleep or outside. 

Like I mentioned, it’s super cold outside and even though I don’t want to be alone, I’ll gladly take that over hypothermia. I could go and talk to the two girls that’re in here but they don’t really look all that friendly (I know that I shouldn’t judge books by their covers but whatever) so that plans go out of the window. Another idea occurs to me then and I stand up, walking away.

“Is it alright if I used the computer?” I ask the lady behind the front desk. While I’m checked in at the crazy center, I’m not allowed to have access to any electronics of any kind, aside from that stupid old television.

“Well, you really aren’t supposed to use anything electronic for the duration of your stay, you know,” The lady behind it (her nametag says Alice) informs me in a bored tone as she flips through a Vogue magazine.

“Yeah, I know that but I just need to use the internet for like, two seconds. I have this major paper due for History on the very first day back at school and it’s supposed to be about the Industrial Revolution and the effects that it had on the world and everything. If I would have known that my parents were going to forcefully admit me to a place for crazy people, I would have brought my textbook with me but it was so sudden, so please? If I don’t get this paper done, I might as well just drop out of high school now because my GPA is going to drop embarrassingly low and my parents are actually going to murder me,” I tell the lady then.

“If you get away from me right now, you can use the computer. No more than ten minutes though and if you get caught, I don’t know anything,” Alice replies in a monotonous tone, still flipping through her Vogue.

“I won’t be long,” I assure her before walking away from the front desk in search of the computer room. I’m not really planning on looking up the Industrial Revolution but I do need to use the internet.

It takes about ten minutes of walking up and down the creepy corridors, but eventually, I find the room that Ava was telling me about earlier. She says that she always sneaks in after bedtime and she never gets caught. I’m really bad at being sneaky though, which is why I just asked that Alice lady if I could use the computer.

The last thing that I want to do while I’m here is get into trouble because I really don’t doubt that my punishment would be something unbelievably stupid, like making me stay here longer and I definitely don’t want to do that. The doctor here, Dr. Watson, didn’t give me a date but she said I won’t be here long. I close the door behind me and then walk over to the desk that the computer is sitting on and sit down, turning on the monitor. The room looks a lot like the normal rooms, only this room has a computer and a TV.

When the computer finally comes to life (thankfully, there’s not a password or anything like that) I go to Google and type in two words: Flynn Decker, before hitting enter. It’s not that I want to know anything about him or his personal life, I just need to find out if he’s been arrested yet. Beckett told me that he got away on Christmas but it’s been four days since Christmas, so maybe the police have found him by now.

I scan the first page of the Google results and sigh when I see that the only things listed are links to his Facebook, Twitter and a bunch of other useless things. I backspace ‘Flynn’ and then type in ‘William’, hitting enter again. That’s his first name, William is, but he always said that he hated that and that’s why he’s always just gone by Flynn. I’m assuming that if he’s been arrested though, he would be listed under his legal name.

The first few results that pop up are just a bunch of news articles that have headlines talking about what happened last fall. I don’t really want to relive any of that right now though, so I scroll past them and keep reading.

Near the end of the first page, I find the local jail’s website and click on the link. I’m redirected to the website and his mug shot pops up, along with a list of what he’s been charged with. I would be happy to see it but I know that the mug shot isn’t a recent picture. It’s the picture they took of him after he went to jail last year and I know because his hair is a lot shorter now. That must mean he hasn’t been arrested.

I’m about to get off of the computer and go back into the common room before someone finds me in here but before I can, a voice fills the room. “Sawyer, I’m so flattered by how much you think of me."

At the sound of his voice, I jump a little bit because I obviously wasn’t expecting it and I didn’t hear the door open. “F-Flynn, what’re you doing here?” I yep, spinning around in the chair, seeing him standing there.

“Just wanted to visit my favorite psycho,” He explains with his ever-present mischievous grin. “Seriously though, if there’s anything you want to know, you can ask me. You don’t have to Google me,” Flynn laughs.

“You need to go,” I say, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest, trying not to stutter. “You’re not allowed to be here,” I tell him, remembering the other day when Graham told me that Flynn was banned.

“I’m not gonna do that,” He informs me, stepping over the threshold and into the room, closing the door behind him. “I told you that we were going to talk and now that your dumbass brother and boyfriend are both gone, we can talk without being interrupted,” Flynn explains, taking a few steps closer to me. I don’t know how he got in here but I’m willing to bet Alice didn’t check the list to make sure he was allowed to visit me.

“I-I don’t want to talk to you,” I reply, swallowing the growing lump in my throat and shaking my head. “I just want you to leave me alone. Please,” I plead.

“Well, I didn’t want to go to jail and I didn’t want to have my Brown acceptance rescinded but thanks to you, both of those things happened,” Flynn states.

“But that wasn’t my fault, Flynn!” I remind him in a quiet voice for the umpteenth time.

“Oh shut up, Sawyer,” Flynn barks, rolling his eyes. “It was and you know it,” He adds.

When I realize that Flynn isn’t going to leave, I decide that I will. If I stay inside this room with him all alone, I’m going to get really worked up and freaked out. And if I get really worked up and freaked out, I’ll end up throwing up or fainting or crying or all three and if that happens, that’ll give the people here more reason to believe that I’m a deranged lunatic that belongs here, when in fact, I am totally and completely sane.

“I’m calling the police, Flynn,” I warn him, trying to keep my solid composure as I walk around the desk so that I can leave the room. Inside, I’m freaking out about being alone with him but I’m trying not to show it.

“You’re not calling the police and you’re not running away from this time, Sawyer,” Flynn says in a vicious tone, grabbing my arm in his as I walk past him, pressing me against a wall and holding me by my wrists.

“Let go of me,” I demand but my eyes are watering because I’m a big baby and my voice is weak, so I think it comes out more like a pathetic plea. "You're violating the restraining order," I remind him. I try to push him away from me but he’s an athlete and all I really do ever is sit around my house and eat a bunch of junk food while binging on Netflix, which means that compared to him, I have basically no muscle at all. That being said, my attempt to push him away is shabby.

“Fuck that restraining order,” Flynn scoffs, his breath washing over my face and I can clearly detect the stench of alcohol. He drinks a lot, Flynn does, so his tolerance is pretty high and I know that he’s not drunk. “Do you honestly think that a stupid piece of a paper is going to stop me from giving you what you deserve?” He wonders, pressing me tighter to the wall and glaring down at me with a murderous look on his face.

“I didn’t deserve it then and I don’t deserve it now,” I say as the tears spill over and start streaming down my face. I really hate crying in front of people but right now I’m losing all control and I think I’m gonna puke.

“When are you gonna get over it, Sawyer? It was a year ago for Christ’s sake,” Flynn replies and I can tell that he’s annoyed by the fact that I’m crying. He’s not a very sympathetic person, if you haven’t noticed.

“Why do you act like what you did to me doesn’t even matter?” I ask him through my tears then. “You have two sisters. What are they, like fourteen and sixteen? What if some guy did to them what you did to me?”

“Katie and Beth aren’t anywhere near as brain dead as you are,” He assures me and then there’s a knock on the door. “You’re not worth going back to jail over,” Flynn says, dropping my wrists from his grasp. “I’ll go but I’ll be back. And when I come back, I’m gonna tell you what you’re gonna need to do when you get out of here and you’re gonna do it,” He adds, stepping away from me. “And tell your brother that if he ever hits me again, he’s gonna find himself six feet under,” Flynn says, motioning to his gross black eye and slightly crooked nose. “That goes for that pretty boy boyfriend of yours too,” He says, obviously referring to Graham. Then he storms out of the room, pushing past the girl that was on the other side. I realize then that Flynn didn’t have an actual purpose in coming here- he just wanted to scare me, which he clearly did.

“Are you alright? Did that guy hurt you?” The girl curiously asks me then and judging by the clothes she’s wearing, she’s a patient.

“No, I’m fine,” I quickly reply with a nod, using the back of my hand to wipe my tears away before speedily walking out of the room.

I speed-walk down the corridor, breathing in and out very slowly as I make my way back to my room. It hasn’t been an hour yet, so I know that Ava is still talking to Max and even if she weren’t, I don’t really feel like playing chess or checkers or anything anymore.

My heart eventually stops pounding in my ribcage and returns to its normal beat as the tears dry up and the redness leaves my face. I really wish I had my anxiety pills here with me because Flynn has just managed to successfully shoot my anxiety through the roof. I know that they have some anxiety medication here but I’m not gonna just ask them for some. I think that that would make me sound like I’m addicted to them, which I’m definitely not. Flynn just really stresses me out and I get so anxious when I have to deal with him. Before he came back, I hardly ever took them.

When I get back to my room, I go inside and close the door behind me, walking over to the small twin sized bed and sitting on it. I curl myself up into a little ball, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my head between my knees. Dr. Fontana came to visit me the day before yesterday, before I was transferred to the crazy center, and he told me what to do if I felt like I was having an anxiety attack while I was here, since I obviously wouldn’t have my medication.

He told me to close my eyes and try to go to a happy place, which sounds really juvenile and ineffective but I figure it’s worth a try. So I close my eyes and try to recall the most recent happy thing that I experienced. Going bowling and then to the movies with Graham, Aspen and my brother was pretty fun, despite the fact that Beckett was being stupid and annoying and Aspen was continuously teasing Graham and me about our non-existent relationship. All in all though, it was a really good time. I try to take myself back to that night a few days ago and after I while, I manage to calm myself down. I now have a huge headache though because not only does dealing with Flynn give me anxiety, it gives me major migraines. I pull back the covers on my bed and lie down, trying to fall asleep.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

“Sawyer, wake up,” A feminine voice says, waking me up from my sleep.

“Why?” I ask her, pulling my covers over my head because I’m still tired.

“It’s time for dinner and you have to take your medication,” She tells me.

With a sigh, I throw back my covers and sit up in my bed, opening my eyes. I glance down at my alarm clock then and see that it reads 7 o’clock, which means that I’ve been asleep for just about four hours now.

“What is it tonight?” I ask the orderly, Jenny, I think her name is, hands me the small pill capsule thing along with a plastic cup of water. They’re not as strong as the pills that Dr. Fontana prescribes, I don’t think, which I guess makes sense, considering the fact that they think I tried to kill myself with them.

“Cheeseburger with fries,” She tells me, handing me the closed Styrofoam container as I swallow the pill. “And you have a visitor,” Jenny informs me, putting a cup of something to drink down on my nightstand.

“Who is it?” I ask tentatively, opening the container, picking up one a fry and nibbling on it. I’m not really that hungry but this place isn’t anything like my house. If I get hungry at midnight, I can’t go and get food, so I might as well eat while I have the opportunity. 

“It’s a guy,” Jenny tells me. “Three girls came by a little bit ago but you were still sleeping, so I told them that they could just come back tomorrow. This boy though, he said he wasn’t leaving until you woke up.”

“Sounds like my brother,” I say after swallowing my pill. “You can send him in,” I tell her and she says that she will before leaving the room.

“Hey baby sister,” Beckett greets about two minutes later, walking into my room then with a grin on his face, carrying a big, suspicious bag.

“Hi adult brother,” I reply as he sits down on the opposite side of my bed, across from me. “What’s in the bag?” I question, eyeing it weirdly.

“Well, since this place is basically a glorified prison, I thought I’d bring you some of your stuff from home so that you won’t actually lose your mind while you’re in here,” Beckett explains, unzipping the bag then.

“How nice of you,” I truthfully reply with a small laugh as Beckett reaches into the bag. “What all did you bring?” I wonder. The rules here are so stupid—like, we aren’t supposed to bring any outside items.

“Your iPad, since I know that you like to be weird and watch Netflix all night,” He tells me, pulling my iPad out along with the charger and then handing it to me. “Mom told me to bring you this book too, even though I told her that you wouldn’t read it,” Beckett adds, taking out a really thick looking book and handing it to me. I’ve never seen it before, I don’t think, but I assume it’s from my mother’s monthly book club. She’s always trying to get me to read the books that they read and I never do. I mean, I don’t mind reading, I just don’t really want to read books that my forty year old mother reads with other forty year old ladies. “And a bunch of snacks,” Beckett replies, handing me the bag and I see mostly just a bunch of chocolate and those little snack cakes in them, which is pretty amazing because that’s really all I ever eat at home.

“You are so annoying yet so wonderful,” I inform my older brother.

“More wonderful than annoying, I think,” Beckett says in response.

“That could be debated,” I counter, taking a bite out of my burger.

“What happened to your wrists?” He randomly asks me then, totally changing the subject.

“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I obviously already know exactly what he means.

“Your wrists,” Beckett repeats with a small frown on his face. “You have bruises,” He states.

“If I tell you, do you promise you’re not gonna do anything dumb?” I ask, deciding to just tell him.

“Uh, yeah, sure, I promise,” Beckett responds, nodding. “What happened to you?” He urges.

“Flynn came by earlier,” I admit with a sigh. “He’d been drinking and he was…angry,” I explain.

“Flynn did that to you?” He asks incredulously, raising his eyebrows and when I nod, he jumps to his feet.

“Wait, where are you going?” I query. Surely, he’s gonna do something dumb just like he promised not to.

“I’ll be right back,” Beckett assures me before storming out of my room, slamming the door on the way out.

He’s only gone for about five minutes or so before I hear him shouting at someone. I don’t know exactly who it is he’s yelling at but I feel bad for them because when Beckett’s angry, he doesn’t hold back at all. He basically yells at the person bout how it’s their job to protect me and whatnot.

I also hear him say that anyone who isn’t him, our parents, Aspen, Sienna, Piper or Graham isn’t allowed to see me. Because he’s dramatic and very paranoid, he even says that if the person doesn’t have their driver’s license or some other form of I.D., then they can’t get in, which is just ridiculous. Like I said, he’s weirdly overprotective.

“If he comes back, you have to tell me, okay?” Beckett says, walking back into my room once he’s done biting off that poor person’s head. “The only thing that stopped me from slitting that bastard’s throat on Christmas was the fact that I would go to jail and he’d go to the hospital and eventually, he would have gotten out of the hospital and most likely came after you again. Not to mention the fact that murdering a person on Jesus’ birthday is probably not the best way to get into Heaven,” He adds. “Seriously though, if he shows his face around here again, you have to tell me, okay? Especially if he hurts you, Sawyer.”

“I really think that you’re just blowing it out of proportion, but okay, Beckett,” I reply with a small sigh and a nod just to appease him.

“I’m not blowing it out of proportion,” Beckett denies, shaking his head in disagreement. “And actually, I have to go,” He tells me then.

“But you just got here,” I remind him with a sigh. Sure, hanging out with my older brother isn’t ideal but I prefer him to the crazy people.

“I know but now that I know that psychopath actually touched you, I have to go and talk to him,” Beckett explains like it’s not a bad idea.

“Beckett, do not go to Flynn’s house. He could press charges against you for starting that fight on Christmas,” I remind him. “You could go to jail!” I exclaim.

“He’s not going to press charges against me, Sawyer,” Beckett assures me with a dismissive scoff. “He’s a pertinacious psychopath but he’s not stupid.”

“Beckett, it’s a really awful idea,” I say then, trying to talk him out of it.

“No, it isn’t, Sawyer. I’m not gonna hit him— I’m just gonna talk to him.”

“I don’t believe you at all but okay,” I reply, giving up on changing his mind.

“Well, you should, because I’m telling the truth,” He tells me. “I’ll be here to see you tomorrow though.”

“Provided you’re not rotting away in a jail cell,” I add.

“I won’t be rotting away in a jail cell,” Beckett laughs.

“We’ll see,” I reply in a singsong voice, popping a fry in my mouth.

“Okay, whatever,” He chuckles. “I love you, little sister,” He adds.

“Yes, yes, I love you too, big brother,” I reply before he walks out.

After Beckett is gone, I decide that I’m not gonna worry about him because he’s a big boy and surely if he gets into a fight with Flynn, our mom will bail him out of jail. I finish off my dinner and then put the container on top of my nightstand before climbing underneath the covers again. I was planning on eating dinner and then just lying in my bed until I fell asleep but since my brother brought me my iPad, I’m obviously not going to do that now.

I grab the earbuds out of the bag and plug them into my iPad, getting comfortable in the bed. Then I power my iPad on and slide the black bag underneath my bed so that whoever comes into my room next won’t see it. I’m sure if they caught me with stuff from the outside, I’d be a in a lot of trouble and like I said, I’m trying to avoid getting into any kind of trouble while I’m here.

I connect to the psych ward’s unprotected Wi-Fi and then go to my Netflix app, searching for a good movie to watch. If you have Netflix though, I’m sure you’ve noticed that their movie collection is…not the greatest. It’s kind of the worst, actually. They have a lot of good TV shows though, so that’s cool. I find a movie called Getting That Girl and I’ve never seen it before but it sounds pretty good, so I click on it.

I don’t get through very much of it though. In fact, I only get through the first forty-five minutes or so before there’s a light knock on my door.

“Just a second,” I call, quickly pausing the movie and taking the earbuds out of my ears, stuffing the iPad under the pillow. “Come in,” I call.

The door opens and Jenny walks in. “You’re so popular today,” She tells me, grabbing my empty food container and my cup to throw away.

“What do you mean?” I wonder, trying to look like I was doing something other than breaking the rules just now.

“You have another visitor,” Jenny informs me.

“I do?” I ask curiously. “Who is it?” I question.

“I think he said his name was Greg? Gary? Gentry? Something like that,” She tells me.

“You mean Graham?” I query, even though clearly she does. I mean, he’s the only person with a ‘G’ name who I’d expect to visit me.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” She replies with a nod. “Do you want me to send him in here?” Jenny asks and when I nod, she leaves.

“I was beginning to think that you were defaulting on your promise to visit me every day,” I tell Graham with a small grin as he enters the room a few minutes later.

“No,” He replies with a light laugh, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Tucker and Jackson got back yesterday and Tucker had to work late tonight, so I had to babysit Jackson,” Graham explains then.

“Oh, well, I supposed that’s a pretty good excuse then,” I giggle. “Did they have a good time in Vermont?”

“Tucker said that it was fine but Jackson said that it was the worst Christmas of his life (which is really dramatic because he’s only five) because he thinks that our grandparents smell like oatmeal."

“You literally don’t even understand how jealous I am of you,” I inform Graham matter-of-factly with a sigh.

“What possible reason is there for you to be jealous of me?” Graham questions then with an amused look.  

“You have an adorable little brother and a puppy and I have neither,” I remind him.

“Jackson’s only ‘adorable’ when you’re around because he thinks you’re pretty,” Graham assures me.

“Which makes him even more adorable,” I explains in a ‘duh’ tone because the kid is seriously so cute.

“I guess so,” Graham appeases me. “And what is your deal with puppies? They’re definitely not that great.”

“Says the guy with a puppy,” I reply with a pointed look. “I would give almost anything for a puppy,” I add.

“I’m gonna get you one,” Graham suddenly decides. “And you’re going to see that they’re not that great.”

“You aren’t gonna get me a puppy,” I argue, playfully rolling my eyes.

“No, I am,” He assures me. “For your birthday—when is your birthday?”

“Are you being serious right now?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Yes, I’m being totally serious,” Graham nods in agreement.

“I really doubt that but it’s September 2nd,” I inform him.

“I’m gonna put that on my calendar and I’m gonna get you a puppy, so be prepared,” Graham tells me.

“So, how exactly do you plan on giving me a puppy if you’ll be all the way in Kansas?” I ask him then.

“Well, maybe I won’t go to school in Kansas,” He says with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll try for Boston College.”

“You’re gonna stay in Massachusetts? Even after you graduate?” I ask him, which is kind of surprising, since he said that his dream school is that one in Kansas—Kansas State University.

“Application deadlines aren’t for another couple of months, so I’m thinking about it,” Graham informs me. “So, yeah, if I stay then I will definitely be able to get you a puppy,” He adds then.

“Well, then I look forward to it,” I laugh.

“Anyway, how are you?” Graham asks.

“I’m okay, I guess,” I reply with a shrug. “Well, about as okay as a sane person who is locked in a crazy center can be,” I add.

“So, it’s not as bad as you thought it would be?” Graham wonders.

“Nope,” I deny, shaking my head. “It’s a whole lot worse, actually.”

“I’m sure you’re just being dramatic,” He says, obviously not believing how awful this place is.

“I’m not being dramatic at all. This place is like, a dumbed down prison,” I tell him. “We have to get up at a certain time, go to bed at a certain time, eat at certain times and other dumb stuff.”

“You poor, deprived child,” Graham sarcastically replies then, shaking his head, feigning sympathy.

“I know,” I sigh. “I mean, I can’t even bring my straightener, which is why my hair looks disgusting.”

“Your hair looks just fine,” Graham assures me with a laugh.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I tell him in a singsong voice.

“You’re very self-deprecating, you realize that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Dr. Watson said the same thing,” I truthfully say.

“Dr. Watson, whoever that is, was right,” He notes.

“Are you gonna be here for a while?” I ask randomly.

“Yeah, unless you want me to leave?” Graham replies.

“No, that’s not it,” I assure him. “I was watching a movie before you got here though and if you wanna finish watching it with me, that’d be super amazing.”

“Oh, well, yeah, that’s fine,” He says. “Tucker doesn’t really care what time I get home, so I can be here for as long as you want me to be,” Graham says.

“Alrighty,” I chirp, reaching under my pillow and grabbing my iPad, along with the earbuds, scooting over in my bed a little bit. “Come up here,” I instruct.

“You’re not gonna like, get into trouble for this, are you?” Graham wonders, standing up and walking around the side of the bed, getting in beside me.

“Possibly,” I shrug nonchalantly. “Either I’ll get in a little bit of trouble and they take away my pudding privileges or I get in a lot of trouble and they kick me out of here,” I describe my theory to him then. "Neither one would be much of a punishment."

“You are something else, Sawyer Jameson,” He laughs.

“So I’ve been told,” I reply, handing him one of the earbuds and slipping the other one in my ear. I would play it without the earbuds but I don’t want to risk one of the orderlies hearing through the door.

“This isn’t a chick flick, is it?” Graham wonders as if the thought just occurred to him that I, a seventeen year old girl, would be making him watch a chick flick.

“Nope, not a chick flick at all,” I quickly deny before pressing play on the movie.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a twin bed, but if you have, then you know that they’re not very spacious at all. Especially for two people. That being said, not touching Graham is kind of inevitable. His leg is brushing against mine underneath the thing duvet but he has jeans on and I have on yoga pants, so it’s not like there’s any skin-to-skin contact or anything but still. He doesn’t move his leg though and I don’t move mine, so we just silently watch the movie.

“You lied to me, Sawyer,” Graham groans about half an hour later.

“Lied to you about what?” I ask him with a light laugh, hitting pause.

“You told me this wasn’t a chick flick,” He reminds me.

“I know,” I giggle. “That’s because it isn’t,” I respond.

“This might be the most chick flick-y movie I’ve ever seen in my life,” Graham argues.

“It’s not a chick flick though,” I chuckle. “It’s like, from a guy’s point of view, you know.”

“Yeah and his whole point of view is focused on getting that girl.”

“Well, to be fair, it is called Getting That Girl,” I inform Graham.

“See, you didn’t tell me that,” He says.

“See, you didn’t ask me that,” I mock.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Graham sighs.

“Quite a bit, if memory serves correctly,” I chime, referring to the fact that Graham told me he’s at a thirteen point five on how a scale from one to fifteen.

“Yes, your memory does serve correctly,” Graham says. “And I have a feeling you’re gonna use that thirteen point five against me as much as you can.”

“You bet your bottom dollar I am,” I reply with a giggle.

We watch the rest of the movie in silence and when it goes off, I realize how late it is—nearly 9:30. Well, I guess it’s not really that late but I don’t think that I’m supposed to have visitors here (and especially not in my room) after like, 8:30. I don’t say anything about it to Graham though because I’m not really ready for him to leave yet. I know that if my friends would have heard that, they would have simultaneously gone into cardiac arrest because they’re just really weird like that and very hardcore shippers of this whole 'Grawyer' thing, as Aspen dubbed it. It’s just that I don’t really want to be alone.

After the movie is gone off, my iPad is just about dead, thanks to Apple’s awful battery life, so I get up from my bed and connect it to its charger, plugging it into the wall. Then I go back over to the bed, sitting across from Graham. Thankfully, the outlet is right near my bed, which means that I can slip the iPad under my pillow so that in case an orderly or someone other staff member walks in, they can’t see it and take it.

“Hey, Graham, can I ask you a question?” I randomly ask him, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Sure,” Graham confirms with a nod, sitting up in the bed. “What’s up?” He wonders.

“How come you’re so nice all the time? Like, I know you’re nice to me because you like me but you’re just so nice to everyone all the time. I mean, that’s obviously not a bad thing but like, why?” I ask him then.

I guess Graham has to take a minute to think about my question because he doesn’t answer it right away. But when he does, he says, “Uh, well, I had a really bad childhood and my father was pretty much the worst person ever, so when I was like, twelve I promised myself that I would never be anything like him and he was really mean, so I guess that’s why I’m nice. Well, at least that’s why I try to be nice to people.”

“Well, I think that that’s really cool,” I inform him. “Not the fact that you have a crappy dad, because I think I can attest to the fact that having a crappy dad is definitely not cool. I meant that you’re nice to people.”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t really see the point of people mean to people,” Graham shrugs. “Anyway, do you remember when you asked me why I don’t live with my parents?”

“I do,” I reply with a nod. “Why do you ask?” I wonder.

“Because I said I’d tell you why when we became ‘actual friends’, as you put it, so if you still wanna know, I’ll tell you,” Graham tells me.

“Oh, I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to tell me,” I reply. “I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I add then.

“No, I mean, it’s not really a big deal,” Graham tells me. “Besides, I’m hoping that if I tell you about my past, you’ll tell me about yours.”

“I will,” I decide suddenly. “I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know.”

“Really?” He asks with a skeptical look on his face.

“Mhm,” I nod. “Not tonight but yeah.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll start from the beginning,” Graham says. “When I was a kid, I had a pretty normal life, I guess. Well, up until I was around five or six. I lived here in Andover with my mom and Tucker but Jackson obviously hadn’t been born yet. Um, my parents got divorced sometime right after I was born and apparently it was a really rough divorce, so my mom kept Tucker and me away from our dad. One day though, Tucker and I were coming home from school and I noticed this weird car in the driveway by my mom’s but I didn’t really think anything of it—I figured it was just a friend of hers or something.

“So, Tucker and I went in our house and I remember there being just like, a lot of shouting and stuff breaking, which really freaks a five year old out. I knew that one of the voices that was shouting was my mom and I guess it just kinda scared me, hearing my mom scream. She’d always been so soft-spoken and gentle, so hearing her shout was new and really weird. And I went through this really hardcore Superman phase around that age and since she was shouting, I thought someone was hurting her or something, so I immediately just took off running through the house, trying to find her and, you know, like, save her. I finally found her upstairs in her room and there was this guy in there with her and they were just arguing really loudly.

“So, I ran over to my mom and I asked her what was wrong, why was she shouting and she told just told me to go with Tucker over to our neighbor’s house and she would come and get us from there later. But then the guy, he randomly asked me if I knew who he was and I clearly didn’t, so I told him that. He told me that he was my dad and that he was really looking forward to getting to know me and a bunch of stupid stuff like that. Then my mom made me go back downstairs and I told Tucker what had just happened and we went to our neighbors house. We ended up staying the night there because my mom never came to get us, which was really weird but Tucker said that she and our dad just needed some time to talk. She came to get us about a day later and that’s really when everything changed. My dad moved back in what us, they got remarried and at first, I was really happy about it. I mean, I think any five year old would be excited about his estranged parents getting back together.

“Anyway, it was really nice, having a mom and a dad and all that but it was only nice for about six months. After the first six months, my dad’s drinking habits just escalated. I’d seen him drink an occasional beer but this was completely different. He was devouring entire twelve packs of in like, six hours. I thought it was a one-time thing but it became his normal routine. He was drinking like a fish and whenever he was drunk, which was almost always, he got really angry. He was really hardcore addicted to like, heroine too, so that didn't really help the situation.

“He’d call my mom all these terrible names and smack her around in front of me and Tucker all the time and sometimes, he’d, uh, he’d hit Tucker and me. Tucker was around eleven or twelve at the time though, so was always trying to protect me and my mom. He took a hell of a lot of those punches and slaps from my dad, so I guess that’s why we’re so close now, Tucker and me. So, yeah, he really got the worst of it.

“For the next six years, the drinking and the beatings continued and it was complete and utter hell. My mom always tried to pack up and leave whenever my dad was at work or something but she was pregnant with Jackson at the time, so that kinda slowed that down. Then whenever he found out that she’d tried to take us and leave, he’d get even angrier and just…beat the life out of her. To be honest, I don’t even know how she carried Jackson full-term. He hit her so much when she was pregnant that medically speaking, she should have had a miscarriage, but some kinda way, she didn’t.

“On Tucker’s 18th birthday though, my dad was at a bar and he got into a fight, which wasn’t really surprise because he was always picking bar fights. The guy that he got into a fight with kicked his ass though and pressed charges, so my dad was arrested and he spent two nights in jail. In those two nights, my mom, Tucker and I packed up literally everything we could and we left town. We went down to Boston and the next morning, we went down to the city court and Tucker and my mom did a whole bunch of paperwork and Tucker became my legal guardian.

“That very same night, my mom bought a plane ticket to Amsterdam, which is where her parents live. She explained to Tucker and me that that was where we were going to go and start over but Tucker decided that he didn’t want to have to learn Dutch and since he was officially my legal guardian, he didn’t want my mom to take me with him. So, we stayed with our aunt who lives in Boston and said goodbye to our mom, who caught her flight to Amsterdam. She was about six months pregnant at the time and it was understood that she’d just keep Jackson there with her and raise him.

“After Tucker graduated high school, he started college online that summer, got a job and after a while, he was able to save up enough money for us to move out of our aunt’s house. Since he was so young though, raising his almost adolescent brother, he got a lot of help from the state and he started getting monthly checks that were supposed to help him, you know, raise me. So, that’s what he used to buy the house that we live in now. He’s really bad at managing money though, which is why he felt the need to buy our beach house and luxury cars and pay for me to go to a prep school.

“When Jackson was about two, my mom sent him here to America to live with me and Tucker because she knew that when my dad got out of prison, he would immediately try to find her, not us, so she knew the three of us would be safer together. So, ever since then, it's been Jackson, Tucker and me.

"I last saw my mom three years ago, when my brothers and I flew to Amsterdam and spent a summer there with her. My dad’s still in prison though and I saw him about six months ago when he was up before the prison board to discuss if he was ready to be released. He ended up getting out but on the day after he was released, he was charged with manslaughter and ended up right back in prison, which is where he’ll be for the next three to twenty years. And, yeah, that’s my really depressing story,” Graham sums up.

I literally have no idea what to say to that because it’s actually the worst thing that I’ve ever heard in my life. And I thought that I had it bad. My life hit a bump in the road just last year but Graham’s entire life has been one very long, very painful bumpy road and I feel extremely guilty.

I mean, I’m the one who can’t even handle being around guys and who has to go to therapy every day and take medication so that I don’t go crazy all because of the Flynn thing but Graham has had it rough his whole life and you would never even know that because he’s just so like, wonderful and nice and amazing and lots of other good synonyms.

“This the part where you say something,” Graham informs me with an awkward laugh.

It dawns on me then that I might just have a very, very small crush on Graham. I mean, I know for a fact that he likes me because he’s not very shy at all about informing me of that. I’ve known him for two months now and he’s given me no reason at all to not trust him or to think that he’s gonna hurt me because I know that he won’t.

I make a quick decision then and it’s a decision that I could possibly regret tomorrow. Hell, I could regret it in just a few minutes, actually but I’m just gonna go for it. I unwrap my arms from around my knees and change positions so that I’m sitting on my knees. Then I move up the bed so that I’m sitting closer to Graham and he’s looking at me with a confused look on his face.

Before he has the opportunity to say anything and before I have the opportunity to talk myself out of it I lean forward and place my lips on his, which is probably the most reckless thing I’ve ever done in my life. I mean, I haven’t even kissed a guy since last year (and yes, I’m aware of how utterly pathetic that sounds) so I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. I don’t wanna be weird or anything though, so it’s just a really small and short kiss and then I pull away. Not all the way though, I just pull away so that our lips are a few centimeters apart.

“What was that for?” Graham asks in a quiet voice, looking at me with a curious look.

“Um, you just looked really sad when you were telling that story,” I inform him. “And also, you like me,” I remind him.

“I do,” He says with a small laugh and his minty breath washes over my face. “Does that mean you like me too?” Graham wonders.

“As I’m sure you can tell, I have a lot of problems and I’m probably the worst person you could possibly get involved with but yeah, I think that I definitely, probably, maybe like you back,” I awkwardly explain.

“Definitely, probably, maybe,” Graham echoes with another light laugh.

“Yeah, definitely, probably, maybe,” I repeat in a whisper with a nod.

“I can handle definitely, probably, maybe,” He assures me.

And since I’m the most awkward seventeen year old girl on the planet, I have absolutely nothing to say back to that. Like, I could probably think or something witty but then we’d go back and forth and if I’m being completely honest, I don’t want to just go back and forth with Graham. I want to kiss Graham and I’m pretty sure he wants to kiss me too, so that’s what I do. I lean forward a little bit and press my lips to his again.

After just about two seconds of initial awkwardness, Graham starts to gently move his lips against mine. And as soon as he does, my heart starts pounding in my chest so hard that I’m actually a little bit worried that he might hear it or feel it, which would just be incredibly weird. It’s pounding in a different way now than it does whenever Flynn is around me though. Whenever Flynn’s around me, my heart starts beating so incredibly fast that I’m worried about it bursting open and blood splattering everywhere and me, you know, dying.

Right now though, it’s pounding really hard and while I am worried about it bursting open, I’m not worried about actually dying because a bunch of butterflies and rainbows and unicorns and glitter would just fill me up. That’s what it feels like is pounding in my heart right now, butterflies and rainbows and unicorns and glitter. So, basically, Graham makes me feel butterflies and rainbows and unicorns and glitter and Flynn just gives me extremely and severely crippling chest pains. 

Graham moves one of his hands from wherever he had them and tangles it in my long, blonde hair, pulling me closer to him. His other hand goes to my waist then, gripping it lightly as he deepens the kiss. Now, I’m not saying I was a serial kisser before the thing with Flynn but I can count the number of guys I’ve kissed on both hands and all of them put together doesn’t match the ridiculously wonderful kissing ability of Graham Cambridge and we’re not even like, making out, which should you something because it definitely tells me something.

After a few minutes of slow, soft kissing, I feel Graham’s tongue roam over my bottom lip. Like I said, I’ve kissed guys before and even though I might seem like it at times, I’m not totally brain dead, so I know exactly what he’s doing. In a couple of quick seconds, I draw up a pro / con list in my head. Dr. Fontana told me that if I ever have trouble making a decision, I should do a pro / con list, which is basically when you list all the good things and the bad things about something.

On the pro side, I list the fact that Graham’s a really good kisser, he likes me and I definitely, probably, maybe like him. And on the con side, I list that my breath might still smell like the French fries that I ate for dinner a little bit ago. That con seems pretty irrelevant to me though, so I part my lips slightly and Graham slips his tongue in my mouth. Before it can go any futher though, the door swings open and Graham and I jump apart like we’re avoiding the plague.

“Sawyer, you know the rules,” Jenny says to me in a scolding tone. “You’re not supposed to have anyone in your room after 8 o’clock and definitely not supposed to have someone of the opposite sex."

“I-I’m sorry,” I awkwardly apologize and my face flames red. “We were just—” I start to try to make an excuse but then Jenny raises her hand, effectively stopping me.

“Yeah, I saw what you were doing,” She laughs and that only makes me go even redder. “But seriously, your friend has to leave—it’s against the rules,” Jenny tells me.

“Right,” I say with a nod, running my fingers through my hair. “Um, well, is it okay if I walk him outside to his car?” I ask her hopefully.

“Sure but if you’re out there for more than five minutes, I’m coming after you,” She informs me, gesturing for me and Graham to go.

So, Graham puts his shoes on and I slide on my Uggs and the two of us walk out of the psych ward wordlessly to his car. When we reach his car, I’m thinking that he’s just gonna get in and drive away but he doesn’t. He pulls his keys out of the pocket of his jeans and turns around, looking down at me.

“Do you wanna go out with me? Like, on a date?” He asks and I’m sure my eyes widen to the size of golf balls.

“Um, what?” I dumbly say, which is such a stupid response because I clearly heard him.

“I mean, unless you don’t want to, of course—that’s cool too,” Graham awkwardly replies.

“No, no, that’s not it,” I assure him. “It’s just that I’m not like, allowed to leave the ward until I’m officially discharged,” I explain. “When Dr. Watson gets here in the morning though, I’ll ask her and if she says yes, then I’d love to go on a date with you,” I say with a nod, lightly biting down on my lower lip.

“Yeah?” Graham asks curiously.

“Yeah,” I confirm with a nod and a small smile.

“Okay, so I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be here,” I giggle.

“Goodnight Sawyer,” Graham says with a laugh, getting into the driver’s seat of his car.

“Goodnight Graham,” I reply, stepping back once he starts his car and then pulls out of the parking lot.

Author's Note: Hello beautifuls! This chapter was extremely long, on? It's 10,282 words and now I'm super tired and super exhausted and super sleepy but I think it was well worth it, yes? 

1. This chapter is dedicated to HalfMoonKid24 because I loved her comment on chapter 13 the best. Whoever leaves the comment that I love the most gets the next chapter dedicated to them! <3

2. Thoughts on this chapter? Predictions for the next? Thoughts on Sawyer? Graham? Flynn?

3. A lot of you wanted to know what Graham's past was like and now you have the story, so thoughts on that? Are you surprised or did you think it was something sorta like that?

4. The picture is of Candice Swanepoel (Sawyer) and the song is Say It Now by We The Kings.

And that's all for now- see you guys next time! <3