I think...I think the part where it took four tries to punch in the correct numbers in the right order was the giveaway. Endless fluttering of a bird up against the plate-glass window, banging repeatedly, looking for her escape and frantic with efforts that go nowhere.
I'm going back to therapy, well, tomorrow. The biggest April fool of all.
He is coming with me. Not inside. He'll wait in the little room with two chairs outside of a soundproof door but removed slightly from reception for privacy. He'll wait and he'll wonder what words I'm using to try and tell them they were right.
I made it so much further this time and one stupid tiny unguarded sentence tore it all apart. I didn't mean I would hurt myself because I won't.
But why would they believe me now?
It's okay. It'll be fine. Right?