[SEQUEL INFO IN THE FINAL PART]

Chapter 35 | I'm Finally Clean

"Doesn't matter how tough we are - trauma always leaves a scar; it follows us home, it changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that's the point: all the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward; it's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up." - Grey's Anatomy

"Don't let them cremate me, okay?"

"What?" Graham laughs, giving me a weird look.

"When I die," I explain. "Don't let them cremate me. I want to be buried really far from other people and I want a Grey's Anatomy quote on my tombstone."

"Why would you want to be buried?" Sienna interjects from the other side of my bedroom, where she's spinning around in my swivel chair. "Like, you're literally gonna be in an over-priced bed decaying; it's gonna be gross," She states. "That's why I told Vince that if we get married and I get super sick when I'm old and die, he has to have me cremated. Did you know that if you get cremated they could turn you into a diamond? Wouldn't that be cool?"

"No," I deadpan, shaking my head and stroking Calliope's head as she nuzzles her way onto my lap. My poor kitten; I only got her a day ago and now I already have to get ready to say goodbye to her. I mean, who's going to take care of her now? Maybe Aspen will; I'll have to ask her when she gets back.

"What about that isn't cool?" Sienna wonders.

"Everything about it isn't cool," I scoff, rolling my eyes and then averting my attention back to Graham, who's lying next to me, watching ESPN on my TV. "But seriously, make sure that it's a nice service, okay? Have them play that If I Die Young song by The Band Perry and make sure the people at the cemetery give me a good, meaningful Grey's Anatomy quote for my tombstone. You know the one Meredith always talks about her mother always saying to her when she was a kid? The carousel never stops turning? Yeah, I like that one - that's a nice tombstone quote, don't you think?" I ask him curiously.

"I mean, I guess, but you aren't dying," He says.

"Well, yeah, not yet, I'm not," I mumble. "Soon."

"Sawyer," Graham sighs, muting the TV and looking over at me. "Stop stressing out about this, okay? You're gonna be fine; everything's gonna be fine."

"But you don't know that," I remind him, getting the familiar prickly feeling in my eyes like I always do when I'm about to start crying. "What if it isn't?"

"Soybean," Sienna interjects once again, stopping her spinning and looking at me with an empathetic look. "It's gonna be different this time, I promise."

"Yeah, that's what I thought when Christmas rolled around," I mutter. "I thought that since so much time had passed, things would be okay. And, just in case you forgot, they weren't okay. They were about as far from 'okay' as possible, actually. I almost died. Like, literally, my heart nearly stopped beating."

Today is Saturday, June 6th, aka, Prom Night, which means it's been exactly one day since Graham graduated and I got that awful phone call from Serena.

I should be doing all of the stupid little trivial stuff that most girls do the day of their Prom - wondering if I remembered the boutonnière and calling the hotel to make sure our reservations are still in order and hoping that it doesn't rain tonight, even though there's a 85% chance, and trying to figure out how I'm going to do anything at all while wearing these stupid acrylic nails that Aspen assured me would be a "great"idea because they're "so pretty."

However, the world hates me, so all of that stupid little trivial stuff that I should be worrying about? Yeah, I'm not worrying about any of it, which is saying something, because I'm a worrier. Instead, I'm worrying about my funeral arrangements, because my life will end today and I need to make sure everything is in order for the service. Graham and Sienna keep saying that I'm just being over dramatic, but they're wrong - they're just being under dramatic, really.

I hear Sienna talking, probably trying to calm me down and convince me that I'll be alright, but I tune out then and my mind flashes back to Serena's call.

"Hi Serena."

"I'm sorry for calling so late, but there's something I thought you'd like to know."

"Is everything alright? Are we being sued?"

"You're not being sued," She assured me. "But, um, don't freak out, okay? Please."

"I'm gonna freak out if you don't tell me," I mumbled. "Serena, please, just say it."

"Okay," Serena said, clearing her throat. "Well, it's about Flynn."

"Flynn?" I echoed, my breath catching in my throat at just the sound of his name.

I hadn't heard or even thought of him in the past few months, what with everything that's been going on. I wondered why she'd be bringing his name up after all these months. I immediately thought the worse - that Flynn had pulled some Law and Order: SVU type stuff and killed a cop, stole his uniform, gun and badge, and escaped jail. A little bit rash, I know, but if the past year and a half has taught me anything, it's to never, ever underestimate people.

"Yeah," Serena confirmed. "Do you think you could come over to the house?"

"Serena, you're scaring me," I told her. "If something's wrong, please tell me."

"I just don't want to...you know, trigger you or anything," She explained. "If you don't remember where Tyler and I live, we could come to your house."

"Serena!" I exclaimed, my heart starting to pound in my chest. "Seriously, just tell me. I'm not going to have a panic attack," I promise her. "I'll be fine."

I heard talking in the background and placed the second voice as Tyler's. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but he replaced Serena on the phone.

"Sawyer, hey, are you there?" Tyler queried.

"Yes, I am here," I replied, getting annoyed.

"Alright, so like Serena said, we have some news for you. I know that you don't want to hear or talk about Flynn anymore, but this is kind of a big deal and Serena and I thought that it was our responsibility to fill you in - we just didn't want you to be sidelined, you know? So, just try to stay calm, alright?"

"Tyler, I'm nowhere near as fragile as you and Serena seem to think that I am," I assured him. "I'm a different person than I was in February. I'm better."

"I'm really glad to hear that, Sawyer," He said and then took a long, deep breath. "Alright, so here goes: Flynn, he's being released tomorrow morning."

I stopped in my tracks then and nearly dropped my phone at the news. Graham, realizing something was wrong, stopped too and looked down at me.

"Babe, what's wrong?" He asked.

"I-I...F-F-Flynn...h-he's...h-he's..."

"Flynn?" Graham echoed. "What about him?"

"Sawyer, are you still there?" Tyler asked me.

"W-wha...h-h-how is t-this h-ha-happen-"

"Sawyer, babe, calm down," Graham advised, grabbing my hand and leading me over to a bench near the hospital elevators, where we both sat down.

"T-Tyler, h-h-how...d-d-did thi-this h-happen?" I demanded and by this point, I was crying, but I'm not sure if it was from irritation, anxiety, or sadness.

"Good behavior," He mumbled. "He was only supposed to serve six months, you know," Tyler reminded me, as if there was any chance I had forgotten. "He was supposed to be getting out the second week of August, but with good behavior and some strings his dad pulled down at the D.A.'s office, the presiding judge approved Flynn's request for an early release."

I was too shocked by the news to say anything, so even though I'd heard him perfectly, I remained silent. I just sat there all shell shocked as my heart began to beat about a million miles per minute and my stomach started churning. Tyler kept saying 'hello,' trying to get my attention, but I think that I must have gone into shock or something. I heard Graham talking too, trying to keep my calm and find out the situation, but by then, I was too far gone.

I remember standing up from the bench and telling Graham that I was going to the bathroom, but then I tripped and fell and that's when everything fell apart. I started crying and hyperventilating and fighting the urge to throw up on the hospital floor and it was so bad. Then, I got a migraine and that's when I knew that a panic attack was coming. I'd told Serena that I wouldn't have a panic attack, but I had no idea her news was going to be so catastrophic.

Graham got up from the hospital bench then and sat down with me on the floor, picking my phone up and talking to Tyler. They talked for a while, I think, but I was a bit too focused on not going into cardiac arrest to listen to what they were saying. The only thing that kept me from passing out right there was thinking back to the breathing exercises Dr. Fontana had me do whenever we were in sessions and he thought I was gonna have a panic attack.

After a few minutes there, trying to imagine myself in my "happy place" and taking long, systematic breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, I was able to get myself to a point where I didn't have to worry about fainting. I sat there, waiting for Graham and Tyler to get off of the phone, wondering if it was all just some really mean April fool's joke or something. It dawned on me a couple of seconds later thought that it was June, not April.

"Okay, thanks Tyler," Graham sighed from behind me after about five minutes, grabbing my hand in his and hanging up the phone.

"W-what'd T-Tyler s-say?" I asked Graham in a weak, shaky voice. "I-is th-this s-some sort of j-joke? T-this h-h-has t-to be a j-joke."

"It's not a joke," He denied, shaking his head with a somber look on his face. "Tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock, he's being released from Rikers," He said.

"10 o'clock?" I echoed, my heart picking up speed again in my chest. "T-that's o-only, t-twelve hours from now! I-I have to g-go," I stuttered, standing up.

"Go?" Graham repeated, standing up too and putting his hands on my shoulders, giving me a concerned look. "Go where? What are you talking about?"

"Graham, if he is coming back, then I have to go," I said, finally shaking off the stuttering. "I-I need to leave; I can't be here when he gets out; he'll kill me!"

"Sawyer, babe, just clam down, please," Graham pleaded. "He is not going to kill you. He's not going to touch you at all. I'm gonna make sure of it, okay?"

"Graham!" I shouted, getting out of his hold, just so that I wouldn't hit him or anything by accident. I get jumpy and antsy when I'm nervous and the last thing I wanted to do was end up accidently hitting him in the face or something. "He is insane, okay? Like, he's literally a sociopathic person. He has absolutely no regard for human life! He will kill me and if you try to stop him, he will kill you and he won't feel any type of remorse for it. I'm the reason he has spent the last four months of his life in prison. He. Is. Going. To. Kill. Me."

After that outburst, people had begun to stare, probably wondering why I wasn't up on the eighth floor - that's where the mentally unstable people are.

"Soybean!" Sienna exclaims all of a sudden, interrupting my thoughts. "Were you even listening to me?"

"No, I wasn't," I admit, shaking my head. "I was a little busy thinking about how soon I'm going to die."

"Will you quit saying that?" Sienna asks, sighing and rolling her eyes. "You aren't going to die," She tells me, continuing to spin around in my swivel chair.

"She's right," Graham agrees with a nod, sitting up in the bed and wrapping his arm around me. Of course he agrees with her - they agree on everything. "Everything is going to be just fine, okay? Maybe after four months are Rikers, he's given up this weird obsession he has with you. You're not gonna die."

I open my mouth to tell my naïve boyfriend and even more naïve best friend that they're both wrong and that tonight is the night that I meet my demise, so they might as well accept it, just like I did. Before I can though, my bedroom door opens and in walks Beckett, wearing a helmet and an anxious look.

"Beckett, what are you doing?" I ask him with a small sigh. Man, I sure am going to miss my brother when I'm dead. He's annoying, but he's pretty great.

"This is the only way I can be close to that thing without dying," He says, referring to Calliope. "Tyler and Serena just got there; they need to talk to you."

I sigh heavily and then get up from my bed, slipping on a pair of flip-flops and running my fingers through my messy hair. Last night, after Tyler and Graham talked, Graham went to find Sienna and Jackson, and then we came back here to myself, where we all spent the night. Sienna stayed with Jackson in the guest bedroom and this morning, Graham took Jackson up to the hospital, so that he could be with Natalie and Georgina and Tucker and Cassidy.

Anyway, when I woke up this morning, after a grand total of three crappy hours of sleep, I saw a text from Serena saying that she and Tyler would be by.

I really don't know why they think that there's anything to talk about though, because there's really not. I mean, it's over, it's all over. Flynn won and I lost. There's no redoes and there's no restarts. Game over. This whole entire process has been nothing but time and money wasted and now I'm just super annoyed. Last night when I first heard, I was sad, depressed even, but now I'm just kind of pissed off. After all of the shit he has put me through, he gets to serve, what, 80% of his sentence, and he's out and back on the streets, as if nothing happened? It was bad enough the first time he didn't have to pay.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Graham offers from where he's lying across my bed.

"No, that's alright," I deny with a weary smile. "I'll be okay," I say, leaning down and pecking him on the lips, which earns an annoyed groan from Beckett.

"Okay," He replies. "If you need me though, just text me or something and I'll come down there," Graham says, handing me my phone from the nightstand.

I assure my adorable boyfriend that I will, in fact, text him if I need him, and then I leave my bedroom with Beckett, heading downstairs towards the study.

"Hey," Beckett says when we reach the outside of the study. "You know this isn't going to change anything, right? Flynn's not going to hurt you anymore."

"Yeah, I wish that I could believe that, big brother," I sigh and then give him a sad smile. Wow, I'm so conflicted. I can't even tell if I'm sad or if I'm angry.

"I could just drive down to Rikers," Beckett randomly offers. "When he comes out of the prison, I could mow him down with my car, if you wanted me to."

"You'd go to jail for that, Beckett," I remind him with a small laugh.

"Only if they caught me," He corrects. "I'd do it for you, baby sister."

"That's very...sweet of you," I laugh again. At least I can count on my annoying, but otherwise pretty amazing brother to make me laugh in my last hours. "But please don't do that. Whatever happens will be okay; I don't want you risking your freedom to kill Flynn," I say before pushing open the study door.

"Let me know if you change your mind," Beckett says, taking the helmet off and pulling his keys out of his pocket. "I'm going to Brett's, I'll see you later."

"Wait, you and Brett are still friends?" I ask, giving him a curious look.

"Yeah," He nods. "Why, did you think that we stopped being friends?"

"Yeah, I kinda did, actually," I admit. "How come he doesn't come over here anymore?"

"I guess I just got kinda tired of him looking at you the way he did and talking to you."

"Okay, Beckett," I chuckle, shaking my head. "Well, have fun, I'll see you later," I add before walking into the study and closing the door shut behind me.

Inside the study, I sigh inaudibly, looking at everyone in the room - Serena and Tyler with a bunch of files and a laptop, my mother with a concerned look on her face, and Dr. Fontana (I'm not sure why he's here or who called him, but I'm very annoyed by his presence) with his stupid clipboard and pen. I hate how anytime anything goes remotely wrong in my life, Dr. Fontana always shows up. Like, I know he's my psychiatrist and whatnot, but it's kind of annoying that he's always popping up. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like him, because I do, it's just that I don't want to talk to him about this; I don't want to talk to anyone about this. All I want to do is pretend that this whole Flynn thing isn't happening and that the only big thing today is Prom.

"Good morning, Sawyer," Serena greets politely as I sit down across from her and Tyler, in the chair between my mom and Dr. Fontana.

"Hi Serena," I reply, not bothering to reply the 'good morning', because it definitely isn't, a good morning, that is. It's very bad, actually.

"There's just a couple of things that we needed to discuss with you and your mother," Tyler informs me.

"Okay, and, you know, no offense, but why are you here, Dr. Fontana?" I wonder, turning and facing him.

"Your mother thought that something like this called for an emergency session and I agree," He tells me.

I sigh, but don't say anything because I don't want to start an argument. I know that I shouldn't be upset with my mother and I shouldn't be upset with Serena and Tyler, but I kind of can't help it. I'm upset with my mother for calling Dr. Fontana and I'm upset with Serena and Tyler for letting this happen. I don't know the law or anything, obviously, but I really just feel like this is something that could have been prevented. I'm trying not to be bitter though.

"Right, well, let's get started," Serena announces, clearly sensing the tension in the room. "So, Flynn is being released in approximately an hour and Tyler and I just wanted to fill you in on where everything stands now, just so that there's no confusion. The first order of business was a new restraining order."

Yeah, because a restraining order worked so well the first time.

"What's different about this one than the last one?" My mom asks, taking the piece of paper that Tyler pulls form his folder and sets down in front of me.

"The stipulations, mostly," Tyler answers. "The original only ordered William to stay, at least, 150 feet away from you at all times, Sawyer, but in light of recent events, Judge Mullins agreed that this was a unique case that went far beyond the parameters of conventional protective orders. With that being said, we had a new restraining order drawn up and signed by Judge Mullins and this one is a lot more secure - it orders him to stay, at least, 500 feet from you at all times. Also, the old restraining order only prohibited face-to-face contact, but this one forbids any contact, indirect or direct," He explains.

"Well, that's good, right?" My mother asks, trying to sound all enthusiastic, but I don't know what there's to be enthusiastic about. Flynn won't care at all.

"That's great," Serena says with a nod and a small smile. "The penalties for violating an order of this caliber would have exponentially severe consequences."

"Well, that's just wonderful," I interject, trying not to sound sarcastic. It's just that we've already learned that a restraining order doesn't perturb Flynn in any way, shape, or form, so all of this is stupid and useless. Like I said, the boy is a sociopath; he doesn't care about rules - he gets off on breaking them. "I actually have a Prom to go tonight though and because I'm such an idiotic procrastinator, I don't even have my dress yet, so I'm going to have to leave."

"Sawyer, you can't keep running away from your problems," Dr. Fontana says, using his stupid 'I'm-your-doctor-and-I-know-what's-best-for-you' voice.

"This is so not me running away from my problems, Dr. Fontana," I scoff. "I just really have to go. I mean, Prom's in like, twelve hours; I really need to go."

"Are you sure you're not just using Prom shopping as an excuse to not have to face what's about to happen?" Dr. Fontana asks, reaching for his clipboard.

"Yes, Dr. Fontana, I'm sure," I confirm, even though that's not totally true. "Serena and Tyler, thanks for stopping by, it was great to see you again," I add.

"Sawyer, just sit down," My mother demands, clearly annoyed by my antics. She really has no room to be annoyed though; I'm the one who's gonna die.

"There's just one other thing and then you can leave, if you'd like," Serena tells me as I sit back down. "William...Flynn...whatever he goes by, he's being released, yes, but that doesn't mean that he's completely off the hook," She explains and I raise my eyebrows in question and beckon for her to go on, not completely understanding what she said. "He's being released on parole, which essentially means that he's being released conditionally. If he doesn't comply with the conditions of his release, then he's headed back to Rikers and he doesn't strike me as a rule follower, so I'm sure he won't be free long."

"What are the conditions though?" I ask, suddenly interested in the conversation. Like I said, the guy gets off on breaking the rules - there's no way in hell he's going to just follow a set list of rules just because his dad and a judge tell him to do so. So, if I understand correctly what Serena's saying, there's a strong possibly that Flynn will be headed back to prison in a very short amount of time. He would have to break one of the so-called conditions first, but something tells me that it won't be all that long before that happens. I mean, he broke the original restraining order several times, knowing the terms.

"Well, obeying the new restraining order is obviously the biggest condition," Tyler tells me. "Aside from that though, Judge Mullins has ordered Flynn to attend two anger management classes a month for the next six months, report regularly to a parole officer, remain within state lines, stay off of your high school grounds and the property surrounding it, and stay away from any of your school's sanctioned events, so anything like Prom, games, trips, etcetera."

"So if he does any of that stuff that he isn't supposed to do, then he goes back to jail?" I ask for clarification.

"That's right," Serena nods. "He'd be ordered back to Rikers, where he'd serve out of the remainder of his sentence and, more than likely, additional time."

"But if he doesn't do any of that stuff, then what happens?" I ask Serena, even though that is super unlikely.

"Then he remains free. Well, free-ish," Tyler states. "If August rolls around and Flynn has complied entirely with the conditions of his parole, he'll be free."

"But how would anyone know?" I wonder. "If he shows up at my school, how is anybody even gonna know?"

"We'll have a copy of the order faxed over to your school and I'm sure they'll put security on the lookout," Tyler says. "If they see him, they'll report him."

"Don't worry," Serena tells me, clearly seeing the worried look on my face. "You are going to be protected."

"She's right," My mom agrees. "In fact, when we're done here, I'm going down to the police station and see if I can get a squad card to watch the house."

"Mother, that's so unnecessary," I respond with a small sigh, shaking my head as I feel a migraine forming.

"It's not unnecessary, Sawyer; he lives in our neighborhood!" She exclaims, like I have amnesia or something and forgot. "We're not taking any chances."

Suddenly, my migraine intensifies by about a thousand and my heart starts pounding and my mind starts flashing back to everything I've been through with Flynn these past year and a half. "Fine, if you really think that that's what you need to do, then do it," I mumble, standing up. "Okay, I gotta go now."

"Sawyer, where are you going?" My mom wonders as I make my way towards the door, pulling it open. "Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here?"

"Mom, I have to get a Prom dress; I told you that," I remind her, gritting my teeth in pain. The migraine is so bad now; it feels like there's nails in my skull.

"Sawyer, what-"

"I-I have to go get a Prom dress!" I scream and then immediately feel bad, because I wasn't intending for it to come out that loud. This whole time, I've been trying to keep it together, but something in me broke just now and I can't. "I-I don't have one and I really need one, okay? I...I just can't be here, okay? I-I just...I can't, mommy. Flynn is getting out of prison in an hour and I can't be at this house when he gets back! H-he lives less than five minutes here, for Pete's sake. H-he's gonna k-kill me! Y-you all p-probably think that I-I'm just being dramatic or whatever, b-but I'm not, okay? H-he's spent the last f-four months l-locked up in a cell; he has p-plenty of time to t-think about all the ways he p-punish m-me for p-putting him there. So, I just...I have to go, okay? I can't be here! T-this is probably the last Saturday I'll ever see a-and tonight is Graham's P-prom and it is g-gonna be super lame, b-but he really wants to go, so I-I need to get a dress, okay? So, I-I'm gonna go and get a dress and then I'm g-gonna go to Prom with Graham t-tonight and we're gonna have a super f-fun time a-and I-I'm gonna try n-not to think a-about the fact that the person w-who single-handedly ruined my entire life is back and probably out for my blood! A-And I-I'm gonna try n-not to think a-about how incredibly unfair this is and how I-I'm gonna h-have to s-spend t-the next y-year or so of my life looking over my s-shoulder, hoping that Flynn isn't l-lurking in the shadows, waiting to stab me in the back with a machete. So, I'm leaving, because I-I need to not t-think about this for a while and I-I need to not be here when the sanctimonious son of a bitch gets back and I'm really sorry for swearing, mommy, but I have to go," I ramble and by the end of it, I'm crying and it's awkward because I'm trying to stop and I can't.

I've only cried once since I heard Flynn was getting out, not including right now, but that was different, because I was with Graham and he's seen me cry so many times now that it's not even embarrassing anymore. Now though my mother is here and my psychiatrist is here and my lawyers are here and it's just so embarrassing. I've tried to downplay how I feel about Flynn being released; I've tried to make it seem like I don't care, like I'm not affected by it all, but I think that we all know it's a lie. Ever since Serena delivered the news last night and I had that small psychotic break in the hospital hallway, I've built up this façade to try to mask the pain. The closer the clock gets to 10 o'clock though, the more my poised façade falls apart. I'm not okay and I'm trying to pretend like I am and it's just not working at all and I don't know what else I can possibly do.

So I do the only thing I know how to do - I run away. Dr. Fontana has spent the past year and a half telling me that I need to stop running away from my problems and I have spent the past year and a half completely ignoring him. It's a basic psychological response to harm - they call it fight-or-flight. I try to be strong, but I'm not; I'm quite weak, actually, so whenever I find myself in a potentially harmful situation, what do I do? I take flight, that's what.

When the Flynn thing happened, I took flight when I tried to commit suicide and wound up hundreds of miles away in rehab in North Carolina.

When Flynn returned on Christmas, I took flight when I overdosed (again) on my meds and nearly died (again) and was sent to the psych ward.

When Graham and I had our first fight back in March, I took flight when I ran away and spent the night with Halden, just to get away from it all.

Without waiting for either of the four of them to say anything in response to my word vomit, I pull the door open and take off running down the hallway. I run up the stairs to the main level of my house and then through the living room, over to the front door, pulling it open, and running out. I keep running until I get to my car and then I get in and, out of habit, my right hand goes to the ignition, but there's nothing there, obviously, and that's when I realize that the keys are in my room. I start screaming then and slamming my fists against the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk in a continuous stream.

My heart starts pounding in my chest and I feel myself getting sick, but I physically can't control myself. I start rocking back and forth there the driver's seat, screaming at the top of my lungs and pummeling the steering wheel, wondering why I can't ever catch a break. The last major problem I had was back on Spring Break when Graham and I almost broke up - since we got back together, everything's been going so well. I guess the universe decided that things were going a little too well for me and decided that it needed to throw something my way. Well, good job universe, I lose, and you win (again).

Something like ten seconds later, the passenger door opens and I hear Sienna say in a soft voice, "Soybean."

"I-I told you to stop calling me that," I whine, suppressing the urge to throw up all over the inside of my car.

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna," She tells me, wrapping her arms around me and hugging me. "Please don't cry; it makes me very sad when you cry," She adds.

"I-I don't know what else to do but cry," I murmur with my face pressed into her shoulder. "Life was finally starting to be good again and now it's ruined."

"Soybean, don't give him that kind of power, the kind of power to ruin your life. We've been friends since middle school and these past few months, you've been the happiest I've ever seen you, so don't let him steal your joy from you. You're just now getting it back. You are the absolute sweetest human being I know and you deserve all of the happiness in the world. That's what he wants, you know, to steal your joy. He wants you to be like him - resentful and miserable; he wants you to hurt every day, but don't give him that satisfaction. I bet right now he knows that you're going crazy over the idea of him coming home and you know what? I bet he's happy about it. And you know why? Because he's a sadistic psychopath. I know that this is hard for you, Soybean, believe me, I do, okay? But I've been through hell and back these past few years and I've lived to tell the story, so when I tell you that it's all gonna be okay, you have to believe me, okay? Because I know how it is. I know how hard it is to go through something so incredibly life-altering and I know how hard it is to wake up every day and pretend you're okay when you're not. You've already made it through the hardest part though and you'll make it through this part too, because you're strong. You're the strongest person I know, actually. Flynn coming back doesn't have to be a catastrophic thing, you know. He has already taken enough from you - please don't let him take your peace of mind."

"Y-you're like really good motivational speaker," I tell my best friend, lifting my head up from her shoulder and sniffle.

"One of my many talents," Sienna chirps with her arms still wrapped around me. "Also, I'm a black belt, so if I need to like, karate chop his dick off, I will."

I laugh at that and then shake my head at my friend - she might be annoying with how she never divulges any Graham's surprises to me and how she always calls me Soybean now, but she's a pretty amazing friend and I can always count on her to make me laugh when my life is falling to pieces, like now. I decide that she's so right - Flynn has taken enough from me; I'm not letting him steal my joy and I'm not letting him steal my peace of my mind.

I've spent the past twenty months of my life being depressed and bitter all because of what he did to me. Sure, at times the bitterness wasn't so prevalent and the depression wasn't so blatant, but they were both always there, buried in the back of my mind. I like to think that I've changed a lot, for the better too, since the last time I saw Flynn and I'll be damned if I revert back to the person I used to be just because he's coming home. Like Sienna said, that's what he wants. He wants to know that he's got that kind of effect on me and I'm just not okay with giving him that kind of gratification. So I make a promise to myself right then that I'm not going to let this change anything; I've worked too hard on being the person I am today for Flynn to just ruin it.

We sit there for a few minutes in silence while I compose myself, making a silent pact with myself that this will be the last time I ever cry over William Flynn Decker. After a few minutes, I'm okay - my heart is beating at normal rate, the tears are gone, and my heart no longer feels like it's gonna explode.

"So, you're gonna be okay, right?" Sienna asks when she sees that I've collected myself.

"I'm gonna be okay," I confirm with a small nod, saying it more to myself than to Sienna.

She opens her mouth to say something, but there's a tap on the passenger window before she can. We both look over and see Graham standing there and Sienna pushes the button on the door that makes the window come down. "I already fixed her," She informs him matter-of-factly in a cheerful tone.

"Is that right?" Graham asks, leaning down and looking into the car with a slightly amused look on his face.

"Yeah, it is, actually," Sienna responds. "She was really sad and I fixed her, so you can talk to her now, but nothing you say will be as good as what I said."

"Okay, Sienna, whatever you say," Graham replies, pulling the door open and gesturing for Sienna to get up.

"Besides, I have to go and fix Piper now, because she texted and said that she and Jason are fighting again," She says, getting out of the car and pulling her keys out. "But I'll be back tonight to help you get ready for Prom," Sienna adds. "Love you, Soybean; bye Graham!" She chirps, skipping off to her car.

"I was gonna come out when I heard the continuous blaring of your horn," Graham tells me, closing the passenger door and pushing the button to make the window go up. "Sienna insisted on being 'the one that fixed you' though, so I went to talk to your lawyers," He explains. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be okay," I tell him with a nod, blinking back tears. I glance down at the dashboard and see that it's 9:30; only half an hour until the human reincarnate of the devil himself is out of prison. The thought obviously scares me, but I remember the pact and promise that I just made to myself and close my eyes.

"Good, I'm glad," Graham replies with a small grin, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "And your mother wants you to go back in and talk to your doctor."

"Yeah, I'm definitely not doing that," I scoff, shaking my head, keeping my eyes screwed shut. "I can't deal with any of this stuff right now," I sigh quietly.

"Well, no one's at my house," He informs me. "Do you want to go there?"

"Can we get food first?" I ask him hopefully. "Dunkin Donuts, preferably."

"If you want to, sure, we can go to Dunkin Donuts first," Graham laughs.

"And after we eat all of the donuts, can I go to sleep in your bed and will you cuddle with me?"

"After we eat all of the donuts, yes, you can go to sleep in my bed and yes, I will cuddle with you," Graham confirms with a nod and another small chuckle.

"You are the best boyfriend ever," I tell him, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy when you leave me in two months," I state.

"You're not even gonna have time to miss me," He swears. "I'm gonna be here all the time - Thanksgiving, Christmas, Spring Break, summer, everything."

"You better be," I say before opening the door and getting out, walking over to the other side.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Graham asks when I open the door and gesture for him to get out.

"I'm getting in the passenger seat," I explain, grabbing his arm and pulling on it. "I'm too tired to drive; I just wanna eat and sleep."

"You're actually letting my drive your car?" He queries, getting out and walking to the opposite side, getting in behind the wheel.

"Indeed I am," I confirm with a nod, pulling my seatbelt on and sighing, closing my eyes again.

Graham starts the car then and I hear him pulling on his seatbelt. Then he turns the radio on, but he changes the station to that rock station he's always listening to, before pulling out of the driveway and heading down the residential road. My eyes are closed, but I've lived on this road for my entire life, so I know when we're passing by Flynn's house and when we do, my stomach churns, but I ignore it. Graham knows where Flynn lives too and I guess he notices when we pass, because he reaches down and grabs my hand in his, interlacing our fingers.

He says it quietly and I'm not sure I'm supposed to hear it, but I do: "Everything's gonna be okay."

✿✿✿✿✿✿

"And how are you handling this situation?"

"I'm not handling the situation," I explain.

"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Dr. Fontana questions.

"Basically, I'm just pretending like none of this is happening."

Even though it's the literal last place I want to be right now, I'm at Dr. Fontana's office, halfway through a session. I tried my very best to avoid coming here today, because I knew exactly what he was going to say and I didn't want to deal with any of it. Evidently though, my plan failed, because here I am.

When Graham and I left my house this morning, we went and got the donuts (one dozen glazed, one dozen powdered, and one dozen jelly-filled), and then we went to his house and ate a bunch of them and then we cuddled like the adorable couple that we are and I fell asleep. When I woke up a few hours later, it was half past 4 o'clock and Graham thought that it would be a good idea for us to go and visit baby Natalie, so that's what we did. I think that he was just trying to distract me from the fact that Flynn is back home. I have to admit, it did work for a while and for a minute, I forgot about Flynn.

Anyway though, about an hour ago, my mother showed up at Graham's house and she was livid, claiming that she "didn't know where I was" and "thought that I was hurt." She was also pretty upset over the fact that I'd spent the past several hours dodging her phone calls, but in my defense, I knew what she wanted; she wanted me to come home and talk about my feelings with her and then she wanted me to go see Dr. Fontana and talk about those same feelings with him and I just wasn't up for that, so I ignored her. I had no idea though that she would show up at Graham's house and force me into her car before hand-delivering me to Dr. Fontana's office building.

"You don't really think that that's healthy, do you?" He queries.

"No, but I do think it's what's going to help me sleep at night."

"So, that's your plan? Just pretend like Flynn isn't back?" Dr. Fontana asks me.

"That's correct," I confirm. "And I know that it's a bad plan, but it's all I've got."

"What are you going to do when you run into him though?"

"Well, isn't that kind of the point of the restraining order?"

"It is, but think about it, Sawyer; you and Flynn live in the same neighborhood, the likelihood of you two running into each other is incredibly high.

"Oh, well, I guess I hadn't thought about that," I admit with a small sigh and then I shrug. "I don't know then. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

"What happened to you in the past few hours since we last saw each other?" Dr. Fontana randomly asks, picking up his pen and writing something down.

"What do you mean?" I wonder, subtly sneaking a peak at the wall clock and suppressing an annoyed groan when I see that there's still half an hour left.

"I mean that when I was at your house this morning, you were two seconds from a complete psychotic break and now it seems like you're totally detached."

"Yeah, it's my new coping mechanism."

"Your coping mechanism?" He repeats.

"Yeah, you know, like, a way to deal with stress," I explain.

"Yes, I know what a coping mechanism is," He assures me.

"Then why'd you say it like you didn't understand?" I ask him, getting annoyed.

"It's just that in general the term 'coping mechanism' refers to adaptive strategies of coping, like social coping or meaning-focused coping. A person who was social coping would seek social support from peers to help them get past their experience and a person who was meaning-focused coping would have a goal of deriving some sort of meaning from their experience so that they could learn from it - you're not doing either of those. What you're doing, I think, is best described as non-coping, which, in itself, is a coping mechanism," Dr. Fontana explains, but of course I don't understand any of that.

"What does that even mean?" I groan, sliding down in the chair and sighing loudly.

"It means that instead of adopting an adaptive technique, which is what most people do when they go through a situation as traumatic as the one you've gone through, you've adopted an unbelievably maladaptive technique as a way to deal with all of your pain. The problem with that is that the whole point of a coping mechanism is to reduce stress associated with a painful experience and with this this non-coping technique, all you've managed to do is build up all of these metaphorical walls and sweep all of your pain under these metaphorical rugs. The way you've subconsciously chosen to handle all of this stress is not good - as a matter of fact, your maladaptive technique is only going to steadily increase your stress and make you more likely to dissociate."

"But what's so wrong with dissociating?" I wonder, glancing down at the clock again.

"Nothing, in its mildest form. Everyone dissociates from something, it's just that not everyone dissociates to the level that you have," He replies, writing something else down. "Your level of dissociation is at an all-time high though and that can lead to an array of issues, such as dissociative disorders, dissociative fugue, depersonalization disorder, and so on and so forth. Dissociation is displayed on a continuum; on one end of the spectrum there's common things, like, daydreaming in class and on the other end there are all of these non-pathological issues you begin to encounter, like derealization."

"I-I don't even know what you're saying," I sigh. "Like, are you saying that just because I have a tendency to ignore my problems, I'm gonna go insane?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying, Sawyer," Dr. Fontana assures me. "What I'm saying is that if you continue like you are right now, you're going to have a manic break, it might not be today and it might not be tomorrow, but it will happen. So by ignoring your problems and refusing to accept what's happening, you're only hurting yourself. You don't like to talk about your problems; I understand that - most people don't like to talk about their problems. You have to find a healthy outlet though; you can't just keep it in your head, your mind isn't going to be able to withstand that kind of strain."

"I don't like it when you're all psychological," I tell him bluntly. "I understand nothing."

"We can go through it again, if you still don't see what I'm trying to tell you," He says.

"No, that's okay," I deny. "I think I get it. Basically, what you're telling me is that I have to stop ignoring my problems and confront them, right?" I ask him.

"Essentially, yes, that's what I'm telling you," Dr. Fontana confirms.

"I feel like you could've made that a lot less wordy though," I state.

"I guess I could have," He chuckles and then picks up his pen again, writing in his notes.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you've been writing there for the past year?" I query.

"No, I'm not," Dr. Fontana bluntly rejects. "So, do you want to keep talking about Flynn?"

"No, because if we do, I'll probably have a panic attack right here in your office," I reply.

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Dr. Fontana says and I think that there's something else he wants to say, but he doesn't want to push me, so he doesn't.

"No, we definitely wouldn't want that," I agree, glancing down at the clock again-twenty-two more minutes. "If you'd let me leave now, that'd be cool."

"There's not that much time left," He tells me, glancing down at his Rolex. "Let's talk about Graham."

"It's kind of weird how invested you are with my relationship," I mumble, half-jokingly, half-seriously.

"It's not that weird," He defends. "He just graduated, right? Is he going to go to college?"

"Yeah, he's going to Kansas State," I inform Dr. Fontana, sitting up in the chair all the way.

"That's a long way from Massachusetts," Dr. Fontana notes.

"Yeah," I scoff. "Tell me something I don't know," I murmur.

"You guys are going to stay together though and do the long distance thing." He guesses.

"Well, we haven't really talked about it all that much, but yeah, I think that's what we'll do."

"How do you think that's going to affect you? Graham being all the way across the country?"

"It'll be hard, obviously. I wouldn't be where I am today without him, I don't think," I state. "The first couple of months will be the hardest, but I'll be okay."

"I'm glad that you have such a positive mindset," Dr. Fontana replies. "When does he leave?"

"The last week of August," I sigh. "And he won't be back until November for Thanksgiving."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, my wife went to Oxford."

"As in the Oxford?" I ask incredulously. "The one in England?"

"That's the one," Dr. Fontana confirms.

"Well, where did you go to college at?"

"Harvard," He says. "My point is, if you're worried, don't be. My wife and I were on completely different continents."

"Wait a second," I mumble, suddenly remembering something. "Didn't you and your wife divorce earlier this year?"

"We did, but we were together a really long time," Dr. Fontana defends.

"That doesn't make me feel better. That makes me feel worse, actually."

"Because you're pessimistic," He says and looks down at his Rolex again. "So, there's sixteen minutes left, but you can go ahead and go now, if you want."

"That's nice of you," I respond, standing up and taking my phone out of my pocket, seeing that I have a text from my mom from a couple of minutes ago.

"I'm a nice person," Dr. Fontana replies, closing my file folder and putting in his file cabinet and then locking it. "Have fun at Prom," He adds, standing up.

"Are you leaving too?" I ask as he pulls open a drawer and takes his car keys out, standing up too.

"I am," He confirms with a nod and then we walk out of his office together and he locks the door.

"Please tell me you're not chaperoning Prom," I say, realizing that the chances of that happening are actually high; his son, Chace, will probably be there.

"I spend enough of my time around teenagers," Dr. Fontana tells me with a laugh as we get on the elevator together. "No, actually, I have a date tonight."

"A date?" I echo, giving him a weird look.

"Yes," He nods, laughing at my expression. "That's still what you kids call it, right? When two people who have a romantic interest in each other go out?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, it's just kind of weird."

"Old people need love too, Sawyer," Dr. Fontana says. Wow, I wish I didn't ask. The thought of my forty-something year old psychiatrist on a date is weird.

"Yeah, okay, well, have fun on your date," I say as the elevator reaches the first floor and we get off, going our separate ways. He parks out back, I guess.

I sign out at the front desk and then walk outside, pulling my car keys out and pushing the beeper so that I can find my car. My mom was the one who brought me up here, but the text that she sent me not too long ago said that she'd had Beckett bring my car up here because she needed to go to work and couldn't come get me when therapy is over. I don't know why she's going to work for the first time all day at 7 p.m., but I didn't care enough to ask.

✿✿✿✿✿✿

"Oh my god, I'm so bitter over the fact that I can't go to Prom this year," Aspen sighs, an hour and a half later as she doing my make-up.

"I'm sure it won't be anywhere near as fun as you seem to think it will," I assure her, flinching on instinct as she starts doing my mascara.

"How many times do I have to tell you that this is the best Prom Jamestown High School has ever and will ever see?" She asks, sighing.

"Because you're on the committee?" I guess.

"Damn right because I'm on the committee."

It's 8:30 and I'm at my house, getting ready for Prom with the help of Aspen, Sienna, and Piper. Aspen is doing my make-up (I told her to keep it light so I don't walk into Prom looking like a forty-year-old, but I doubt she listened), and Sienna and Piper are working on my hair. Prom starts in half an hour, so we're running behind schedule, but that's no surprise.

When I left Dr. Fontana's office, I went back over to Graham's house, but he wasn't there. Sienna, however, was and she told me that she'd sent Graham up to Taylor's. Taylor's is...wait for it...a tailor shop in uptown Andover that also sells tuxedos and ties and all that kind of male formalwear. Apparently, Graham hadn't gotten his tux or shoes or tie or anything for Prom yet, but I can't blame him, because at the time, I didn't have my dress or shoes or anything. I guess we are both just great procrastinators.

So, Sienna was there dog sitting Noelle and Bono and waiting for me to get back so that we could go dress shopping. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten about a dress, which is kind of funny considering the fact that this morning when I was screaming at my mom and Serena and Tyler and Dr. Fontana, my main reasoning for needing to leave was to go get a dress.

Anyway, we went and picked up Aspen from dance and Piper from her house (she and Jason have already resolved their fight, so I guess that's good), and the four of us headed out to Boston to Anthropologie, which is this really nice dress store. After about a half hour of searching (it's much easier and way less time consuming when you've got three people helping you) I found a really adorable dress and even though I'm going to have to save my next three paychecks in order to get myself out of the financial hole it put me in, I really love it. After we left Anthropologie, we went to Cayman's, which is an upscale accessory store - kind of like Charming Charlie's, only they don't have clothes. We found shoes there that match my dress perfectly and we were also able to find some nice and not terribly priced jewelry, so I'd say my luck has been good today, you know, aside from the Flynn Coming Home Thing.

"Whatever you say, Aspen," I appease my friend with a small laugh.

"If you keep laughing, I'm going to accidently stab you in the eye," She warns, waving the wand around, like I don't see it when it's that close to my eye.

"So, Graham just texted me," Sienna announces, looking up at her phone. "He's on his way here, but there's a lot of traffic, so it'll be about fifteen minutes."

"Oh my god, I'm gonna cry," Piper wails from behind me, where she's maneuvering my curling wand through my hair. "I feel like a proud mom right now."

"Me too," Aspen interjects. "Like, remember when you first met Graham and you were scared to talk to him? Now look at you guys. It's inspiring, really."

"Yeah, it's not that inspiring, you're just dramatic," I correct her.

"Stop spreading your pessimism," Piper scolds, hitting my arm.

"So, where are you guys staying?" Sienna asks, changing the subject.

"The Riverview," I state. "Which is ridiculous, because their rooms are insanely overpriced."

"That they are," Sienna agrees. "But their room service is out of this world, so it's worth it."

"Something tells me they won't be doing much eating, if you catch my drift," Piper jokes.

"Piper," I groan, feeling my face go bright red.

"I only speak the truth," She defends, giggling.

The Riverview is this really nice hotel that's located about five minutes away from the ballroom where Prom is, so it's obviously where a lot of people from my school are going to be spending the night. I told Graham about a million times that we didn't even need to get a hotel and that we could really just hang out at his house after Prom, seeing as how no one is going to be there aside from the puppies, since the other Cambridges are at the hospital still. He claimed that hotel rooms are much more fun though and he jokingly said that since it's his Prom, it's his decision and next year after mine, I can decide where we hang out. I think that it's pretty adorable that he assumes we'll still be together next year. I obviously don't know if we will, but I sure hope so.

"And I'm done!" Aspen chirps shortly thereafter. "Look, tell me how amazing I did," She demands.

I turn around on my vanity chair then and look into the oval-shaped mirror. "Okay, you did really amazing," I admit with a small smile. Surprisingly enough, she actually didn't go overboard and I actually don't look like a forty-year-old. I'm not one of those people who is super confident with their looks and usually when I look in the mirror, I approve, like, I don't think I look terrible, but I obviously don't think I'm the prettiest person on the face of the planet. Right now though, that's kind of how I feel, which sounds pretentious, but I don't care, because 90% of this day has been shit and I deserve to feel pretty.

"I told myself that I wasn't going to cry," Sienna dramatically says. "Oh, Soybean, you look so pretty."

"Thank you...Sriracha," I reply, letting her wrap her arms around me tightly for a hug.

"Sriracha?" She echoes, pulling out of the hug. "No, you are not calling me that. I forbid it, actually."

"As long as you keep calling me Soybean, yeah, I am, actually," I promise her, laughing.

"Alrighty, well, Graham will be here in approximately twelve minutes, so choppy chop, put you dress on," Piper demands, walking over to my closet and taking the dress out and then bringing it to me. "And you better not mess your hair up."

"I think you guys are more serious about this whole Prom thing than I am," I tell them.

"Maybe so, but we're your best friends and it's our job to get you pumped up for things," Aspen shrugs. "We'll be downstairs," She adds and they leave.

When my friends are gone, I turn back towards my vanity mirror and look at my hair, incredibly thankful for the fact that Sienna and Piper didn't overdo it like I thought that they would. My friends have a slight tendency to go overboard when they're using me as their mannequin, if you hadn't noticed. They originally wanted to give me some insanely intricate updo, but I said no to that because I happen to hate updos. I told them that they could just straighten it and it would be just fine, but they told me that just straightening it would be "too boring and dull" so I told them that they could do whatever they wanted to my hair, as long as there were no updos. So they curled it and now it looks all wavy and pretty and I wish it could look like this every day. I run my fingers through my hair and when I pull them out, I see little flecks of silver glitter on my hand - of course they put literal glitter in my hair; I should expect nothing less from them at this point. My hair does look really good though, so I can't be mad at them. They're annoying, but they're good.

I get out of what I'm wearing then (leggings and one of Graham's t-shirts) and take the dress out of the plastic protective cover and slide it on. When it's on and in place (thank God I got a dress without a zipper), I walk across the room to my closet door, where my full-sized mirror is, and look at my reflection. The dress is floor-length (obviously, because who wears short dresses to Prom?), and a seafoam green color. It's a pretty simple dress, but I like it a lot - you know me, you know I'm not into that frilly kind of stuff. The front is pretty normal looking, but the back is what really caught my eye when I first saw it - it has a sheer cutout keyhole back, so basically all of my back is on display, which I'm sure I'll catch hell for from Beckett, but oh well.

I walk back over to my vanity and sit down, grabbing the bag from Cayman's that all of my new jewelry is in and emptying it. I didn't really buy that much stuff, because I'm not super big on jewelry and also because my grandparents have bought me pretty much every article of jewelry possible over the past seventeen years. I bought silver bracelets and silver earrings with seafoam green accents and that's it, so I put them on and then toss the bag in my trash bin. Then I open my jewelry box and take out the elephant necklace that Graham got me for Christmas and slip it on. I haven't worn it in a while, but I feel like tonight would be a good night to wear it, because it's super cute and I don't want Graham to think I've lost it. Then I put the tennis bracelet that he got me for Valentine's Day. I've never worn it before today, because I've been afraid that I'd break it or lose it or something, but tonight's a big night.

After I've got the jewelry on, I walk back over to my closet and pull out the new shoes I bought for tonight - simple, silver heels. You can't see them because the dress covers them just like I knew that it would, so I didn't spend too much time picking them out. They're super cute though and they didn't cost anywhere near as much as the dress did, so that's nice. When I have the shoes on, I walk back over to my vanity, where my clutch purse is. I pick it up and load it up with my phone, gum, and my car keys. I'm obviously not driving to Prom, but leaving home without my keys would just be a bit weird.

I take a deep breath in then and I'm about to go downstairs and wait for Graham to get here, but then I think about something that Dr. Fontana told me:

"By ignoring your problems and refusing to accept what's happening, you're only hurting yourself."

And then I know what I have to do. It's probably not a good idea (it's a horrible idea, really) and this isn't a good time, but if I don't do it now, I never will.

"If I don't make it out of this alive, Calliope, know that I loved you," I whisper to my sleeping cat and then kneel down, kissing her on her fluffy little head.

So with a small sigh, I turn on my heels and walk out of my bedroom, turning the light out and closing the door behind me. I walk down the back stairs instead of the front stairs, which would lead me straight to the living room, because I don't want to bring any attention to myself right now. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm in the kitchen. I quietly walk across the titled floors and out of the sliding glass door that lets out into the backyard. I notice then that the candles from yesterday are all gone - I guess Beckett actually did get them up. When I asked him, he said no, but someone did, obviously.

I walk across the backyard, which, by the way, is incredibly hard to do in four inch heels, and thankfully, I make it to the gate without falling on my face. I pushing the gate open and walk through it, pulling it closed behind me. Then I make my way to the sidewalk, walking fast enough away from my house so that I can get where I'm trying to go before someone notices I'm gone, but slow enough to where I don't break in a sweat, because that'd be so gross.

The entire way, I'm thinking of what I'm going to say and five minutes later, when I reach the property, I still don't know exactly what I'm going to say, but I guess I'll just wing it like I wing everything else in life. I see the familiar Porsche in the driveway and the mere sight of it makes me a little uneasy, but I keep it together and walk past it, heading up to the front door. At the front door, I take a deep breath and then shakily raise my hand to the doorbell.

I wait for a couple of seconds and my heart starts pounding in my chest, but I mentally send it a message, telling it to chill and it actually listens, surprisingly. After about ten seconds, the door swings open and there in front of me stands Austin Decker, Flynn's father. He's dressed in pajamas, which is weird, because he's, you know, kind of old, but I don't pay too much attention to that because his choice of attire isn't what I'm here at his house about.

"Sawyer," Mr. Decker says in greeting. "What are you doing here?"

"U-um, hi Mr. Decker," I awkwardly reply. "I-is Flynn here?" I ask, even though I know that he is. He is, after all, the one that drives that super nice Porsche.

"Yes," Mr. Decker nods, crossing his arms across his chest. "Why?"

"I, um, I need to speak with him...please."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sawyer."

"Yeah, it's a really bad idea, actually, but I really need to talk to him."

"So you can call the police and say he violated the restraining order? I don't think so," Mr. Decker scoffs. "Please leave my house and don't come back."

"Mr. Decker, I'm not going to call the police; I just need to see him."

"Fine," Mr. Decker finally gives in, stepping aside and gesturing for me to come in. "He's in his room. You do remember where that is, don't you?" He asks.

"Yes sir, I do," I confirm with a nod, walking into his house and letting him close the door behind me. "Thank you, sir," I awkwardly say, trying to be polite.

"Be quick about it," He grumbles and then walks out of the room, probably headed back to his room.

I stand there alone for a few seconds in the middle of the Decker's living room, just thinking. Flynn hasn't seen me yet, I could easily just leave and pretend like I never even came here. Dr. Fontana's earlier words run through my mind again though and I know that I can't. He was right, I'm only hurting myself.

So with one last deep breath, I grab onto the guard rail and start climbing the stairs to the second level of the Decker's home. When I reach the top, I walk all the way down the hallway and stop at the last door on the left, which, if I remember correctly, belongs to Flynn. I haven't been to house in years though, so I could be wrong and it could be Creepy Kevin's door. I sure hope that that's not the case though. Shaking slightly, I raise my hand and do a soft double knock on the door and wait.

"Come in," the voice says and I know immediately that it's Flynn.

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away and shake my head. Then I grab the doorknob and push the door open, hesitantly walking inside the bedroom.

Flynn is sitting at his desk, which faces the window, so his back is to me. He's on his laptop doing something and I notice that the room is the exact same.

"Flynn," I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest.

At the sound of my voice, Flynn spins around in the swivel chair and when he sees that it's me, his jaw drops and a shell-shocked look washes over his face. I notice then just how scarily different he actually looks. His hair is way longer, like he didn't get it cut the entire time he was in jail, he's lost at least fifteen pounds, and he has all of this stubble on his face, like he didn't shave the four months he was in jail. Basically, he looks like deranged a serial killer.

"What are you doing here?" He asks me, standing up.

"We need to talk," I state, swallowing a growing lump.

"Shut the door," Flynn instructs, which I do. I wouldn't want to catch Creepy Kevin on his way to the bathroom and hearing me in here and joining us. "What do you want to talk about?" He mumbles then.

"I see a guy, his name is Dr. Fontana and he's a psychiatrist and a therapist and a mental health specialist, basically. After you ruined my life a year and a half ago, I had to start seeing him. He's annoying and he makes me talk about stuff I don't want to talk about, like you and my deadbeat dad. He's pretty wistful though and he's helped me a lot. Anyway, I went to see him today and he told me that I have to stop running away from my problems and that I need to confront them, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

"It has been exactly 585 days since you...since you raped me, Flynn. Do you know that that's the first time I ever said that out loud? The "r" word, I mean. You took so much from me that night and you changed my life in the absolute worse way possible. You were supposed to be my friend, Flynn, but friends don't hurt each other. You hurt me so much that I actually wanted to die, you know. I literally tried to kill myself. I've spent the past year, seven months, and eight days hating you, hating myself, hating everything.

"And I just came here today to tell you that I'm done. I'm done hating you and I'm done hating me and I'm done hating everything. I want you know that I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm not that same weak little girl you assaulted and beat and dehumanized a year and a half ago. I'm stronger; I'm so much stronger than I used to be. And I want you to know that you can't hurt me anymore. You have dragged me through Hell and back and you thought that you broke me, but you didn't. I'm still standing.

"I am so unbelievably unnerved by the fact that they let you out of a prison and it is an egregiously disgusting injustice. But I'm a firm believer in karma and I hope you know that your daddy can't fix everything for you. One day, Flynn, you're gonna get what's coming to you and I hope to God that I'm around when that day comes. And I just want you to know that there a special place in Hell for people like; people who take advantage of other people.

"Just so you know, this will be the last time you and I ever speak. You are not going to show up at my house and you are not going to show up at my school and you are not going to show up at my job or anywhere else you think I might be. You are not going to talk to me, indirectly or directly, and you are not going to talk to anyone I love or even remotely like, including my brother, my boyfriend, my friends, my psychologist, my boyfriend's family, none of them. You are going to ceases exist in my life and I in yours. So, as bad as I want to hit you right now, I'm not. Instead, I'm gonna go. Goodbye Flynn."

Before he can say anything in response, I turn and I walk out of his room, closing the door after. I make my way down the stairs and out the front door.

I walk back to the sidewalk, taking a few baited breaths. I notice then that I don't feel lightheaded or queasy or sick or anything. I feel good, great, actually.

There's a loud grumble of thunder then though and I stop in my tracks, halfway back to my house, and look up at the sky. There are dark clouds above head and the sky looks obscure and gloomy. There's an 85% of rain for tonight, so I guess it's coming through. I can't help think it's a bit symbolic though.

The rain starts a couple of seconds after that, once I have continued walking, but it isn't heavy. It's more like a drizzle. I smile to myself and keep walking.

"Sawyer!" I hear Graham's voice call from behind me and I turn around, seeing an approaching limo. The window is down and Graham is leaning out it.

"Hi boyfriend," I greet, sniffling. I'm not crying, I'm just a little emotional. Even if I was crying though, they'd be happy tears, not sad tears.

"Hi," He replies, giving me a weird look and getting out of the limo when it comes to a full stop. "What are you doing out here?" He asks.

"Just...nothing," I respond, not divulging what I just did, because I don't want him to make a big deal about it. "Really? A limo?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Go big or go home, right?" He replies with a boyish grin. "You look really, really amazing, by the way," Graham tells me, putting my corsage on my wrist.

"Thanks," I blush. "You also look really, really amazing," I reply. It's not like that's a surprise though. He always looks great. "So, are you ready for Prom?"

"I've been ready for the past four years," He says, opening the door for me and getting in after I do. "Do you still want to stop by your house?" He asks.

"We don't have to," I decide, opening my purse and taking the boutonnière out, pinning it to his tuxedo and then letting him wrap his arm around me.

"Alrighty then," Graham says and then taps on the partition and tells the guy to take us straight to the ballroom instead of stopping back by my house.

The partition slides back up then and I reach forward, turning the volume up on the radio - huh, who knew limos had radios?

The song that's playing is one of my most favorites and it's quite fitting, I think. It's Kiss Me Slowly, which, according to Sienna, is my and Graham's song.

Oh, I'm not sure where this is gonna go,

but in this moment, all I know,

is the skyline, through the window,

the moon above you, and the streets below.

Hold my breath as you're moving in,

taste your lips and feel your skin.

When the time comes, baby don't run,

just kiss me slowly

"So," Graham says about a minute into the song. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm better than okay," I promise him, looking up at him. "I'm finally clean."

THE END

[SEQUEL INFO IN THE NEXT PART]