Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet space around me, blending with the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. Liam’s house was so still, the silence pressing in on me. It was nothing like the chaos of my dorm or the overwhelming noise of campus life. Here, there were no distractions, no excuses. Just me, and the thoughts I couldn’t outrun.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at my phone. The calendar notification stared back at me, a reminder of the therapy session I’d been avoiding. After my first appointment, the therapist had suggested scheduling a month’s worth of sessions. At the time, I’d nodded along, too exhausted to argue. But now, as I stared at the screen, the idea of unpacking everything again made my stomach churn.

The iPod on the nightstand caught my eye, its sleek surface glinting faintly in the dim light. Memories of last night clawed at me—the way Mine had wrapped around me like a dark, intimate secret. It had opened something I wasn’t ready to face.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. There wasn’t time for that now. Therapy came first.

By the time I stepped into the waiting room, my pulse was a steady drumbeat in my ears. I sank into the chair by the window, clutching my phone like a lifeline until the door opened, and Dr. Rose greeted me with a warm, patient smile.

Once inside her office, I settled into the familiar couch, my legs curling under me like a shield. Dr. Rose sat across from me, her hands loosely clasped in her lap, waiting.

“So, Kira,” she began after a beat, her voice calm and grounding. “How have you been since our last session?”

I hesitated, staring at the carpeted floor as if it might offer answers. “I’ve been... okay. I mean, not great, obviously. But not terrible either.”

She nodded, her gaze steady but gentle. “Okay is a start. What’s been on your mind?”

I bit my lip, fingers picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “I listened to something,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “A playlist someone made for me.”

“Someone?” she prompted softly, though her tone suggested she already knew who I meant.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Owen.”

Dr. Rose’s expression didn’t change—not a flicker of judgment or surprise. “And how did that feel?”

“Complicated,” I admitted, the word feeling inadequate to describe the storm raging inside me. “It brought up a lot of... feelings. About him.”

“Feelings can be tricky like that,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “They’re rarely just one thing.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Yeah, no kidding. I hate him. I should hate him. But I don’t. Not completely.”

Her silence urged me to continue, and I forced the words out, each one feeling heavier than the last. “It’s like… he’s this gravity I can’t escape. No matter what he’s done, no matter how much he’s hurt me, there’s still this... pull. And I hate myself for that.”

Dr. Rose tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not unusual to feel conflicted in situations like this. Love and anger, longing and resentment—they’re not mutually exclusive. You can feel all of them at once, and that doesn’t make you weak or broken.”

I frowned, my chest tightening. “It feels like it does. Like I should just be able to cut him out of my life completely. Like I should want to.”

“And yet,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “here you are, unpacking those feelings instead of running from them. That’s not weakness, Kira. That’s strength.”

Her words hit something deep inside me, and my throat tightened. I looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. “I just... I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Maybe it’s not about making it stop,” she suggested. “Maybe it’s about understanding where those feelings come from and deciding what you want to do with them.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of her words settling over me. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not. But healing rarely is.”

I glanced down at my hands, twisting them together in my lap. “What if... what if I can’t?”

“You’ve already shown that you can,” Dr. Rose said, her warm, understanding gaze steady on me. “You’ve scheduled these sessions. You’ve talked openly about your feelings. That makes you resilient and brave.”

I stared at my hands, twisting the fabric of my shirt. “It doesn’t feel brave. It feels... wrong. Like I’m betraying myself for still feeling this way.”

Dr. Rose leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle but unwavering. “Feeling conflicted about someone who’s hurt you isn’t betrayal, Kira. It’s human. Trauma bonds can complicate emotions in ways that feel impossible to untangle.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of her words settling in my chest. “He—Owen—he traumatized me. But I can’t stop... caring about him. I hate myself for it.”

“You’re not the first person to feel this way,” she said gently. “Loving someone who has hurt you doesn’t erase the pain or make what they did acceptable. But it’s important to separate your feelings for him from the harm he caused. Your love doesn’t absolve him, just like his actions don’t erase your feelings.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, and my throat tightened as I fought back tears. “I just—I don’t even know who I am outside of all of this. I don’t want to be stuck anymore. I want to move forward, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“You start by deciding what you want for yourself, Kira,” Dr. Rose said, her voice steady. “Not for him, not because of him—for you. What does healing look like for you?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. But then, a flicker of resolve sparked inside me. “I want to take back what’s mine,” I said quietly. “My space. My choices. My life.”

Dr. Rose nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “That’s a powerful place to start.”

The sun was lower in the sky by the time I returned to Liam’s house. I set my keys down on the counter, the familiar quiet wrapping around me like a blanket. The session had left me drained, my emotions raw and exposed, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of something else. Something close to hope.

I moved through the house, tidying up the little messes I’d left behind. The act of cleaning was small but grounding, each task reminding me that I could still control something, even if it was just the state of this temporary home. I wiped down the counters, folded the blanket on the couch, and finally returned to my room.

The iPod was still on the nightstand, untouched since last night. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it like it held all the answers to questions I wasn’t ready to ask. My hand hovered over it, hesitating.

With a shaky breath, I picked it up and slipped it into the drawer. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dr. Rose’s words replayed in my mind: Maybe it’s about understanding where those feelings come from and deciding what you want to do with them.

I didn’t have the answers yet. But as the heater hummed in the background and the last traces of daylight faded from the window, I realized something important.

I didn’t want to die anymore.

The thought was both terrifying and liberating, a fragile step forward in the endless sea of chaos. I wasn’t fixed, but I was beginning to find my footing.

My hand drifted to my pocket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the new phone Liam had given me. My heart thudded in my chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that seemed to echo the chaos in my mind.

Text him.

The thought was like a whisper in the dark, a dangerous temptation that I couldn't ignore. I pulled out the phone, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dim room. My fingers hovered over the keypad, hesitating.

I swallowed hard, my mind a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but they refused to form, caught in the tangled web of my emotions.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. I could still hear Dr. Rose's voice in my head, gentle and reassuring. "You have the power to reclaim your life, Kira."

My eyes fluttered open, determination settling over me like a cloak and I began to type. When I was done, I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my ears. The message was simple, yet it held the weight of the world.

With trembling fingers, I hit send.