1. Fable

Chapter 1

Fable

Six Months Later

" I know we've had this discussion before, Fable, but I feel I should repeat it for your benefit," Dr. Julia says from her cushy chair in front of me. "It's not unusual to feel guilt after what you went through. Survivor's guilt is a strong emotion that affects ninety percent of people who've been through a traumatic event like you have."

I nod like she expects me to. I've started just going through the motions, shutting down. Today, we started off by talking about what I bought at the grocery store, but we always circle back to this. Always. That wreck six months ago changed my life in so many ways that I don't like to think about, but it's inevitable. It coats every part of my day. It's hidden in every word I speak. It's present in my dreams. I can't escape it, and no matter what Dr. Julia thinks, I can' t just accept it.

"It's more than that. . ." I murmur, not looking the therapist in the eyes. Guilt is one thing. I survived. Jinx didn't. Steve didn't. I didn't even really know Steve, but his death eats at me, too. Besides, I didn't survive unscathed.

I spent two weeks in the hospital directly after the wreck. I remember the pain from the wreck, but I don't remember much about my own body. I'd been badly hurt, badly bruised. I'd gone into shock by the time I'd been loaded into the ambulance, and I lost a lot of blood from the wounds that covered my body. As it turns out, my legs had been pinned by the crumpled seats. My right leg had been sparred too much trauma, but my left leg had been too mangled to mend. I glance down at the new prosthetic I'd been fitted with. Long months of recovery and physical therapy have led to me being able to go about my day-to-day life now, but I'm nowhere near as steady as I once was. At least this prosthetic feels more natural. The first one had made me feel clunky and mechanical.

"Tell me what you're feeling," Dr. Julia says, her tone perfectly pitched to sound empathetic.

I glance up at her and then to her right, where Jinx perches against the bookshelves just like she used to against anything strong enough to hold her weight. She grins at me when I look, and I quickly look away, so Dr. Julia doesn't notice me looking. The hospital had recommended therapy after I'd gotten out, so I've been having these sessions for about four months now once they were able to fit me in. Jinx, though she died that day, never left me. She was with me while they worked to stabilize me in the ambulance. She'd been with me while I laid in the hospital bed. She's been with me every single day since.

I'm not insane. I realize she's not really here. Dr. Julia said it's normal to see reminders of those we lose in everything we do. When I'd tried to explain what I was seeing, she'd mentioned PTSD and prescribed me pills to help. I know it's probably a correct diagnosis. PTSD is pretty prevalent with traumatic events. I can't even be in a car that I'm not driving anymore, and I sit way too long at a light after the light has turned green. Everywhere I go, people honk at me for moving too slow. I drive in the slow lane and go five miles under the speed limit. I avoid the highway at all costs.

And sometimes, I see my best friend. She talks to me as if she's still here. She interacts with me. Her voice echoes in my mind like she's my conscious.

"I just feel. . . hollow," I tell Dr. Julia. "Like I've been watching color television and it's suddenly black and white."

She nods. "How have you transitioned with the new prosthetic?"

I look down at my leg again. "It's. . .better. . . than it was," I reason. "This one doesn't pinch like the other one did."

She nods again. She does that a lot. "And physical therapy is going well?"

"Yes," I murmur. "They say I can be released in another few months as long as I continue to strengthen my leg at home afterward."

"Good," she says. "That's all very good to hear." She folds her hands across her lap and studies me closely. "And have you still been seeing her?"

I tense. "No."

Where Jinx leans against the bookshelf, she smirks. " Liar, liar, pants on fire, Everhart ."

Dr. Julia watches me closely. I'm careful not to flick my eyes over to Jinx, to remain steadily focused on her. "We can up your dosage on?—"

"I said no," I lie again. "I don't need more medicine."

I'm not even taking what she'd prescribed me the first time, but she doesn't need to know that.

Dr. Julia smiles gently. "Okay. I believe you, Fable." She looks down at her watch and sighs. "We've reached the end of our time for today though, so I'll see you the same time next week, okay?"

" She's definitely checking if you need to be sent to the looney bin ," Jinx says as Dr. Julia stands up and moves over to her desk. " I don't like her."

I snort at Jinx's words and Dr. Julia looks at me over her shoulder. "What was that, Fable?"

"Nothing," I reply, standing up slowly and making sure I have my balance under control before I walk toward the door. "See you next week, Dr. Julia."

Jinx disappears, but I know she follows me home. She always follows me home.

I wonder if Steve's family sees him. . .