Page 50 of Notorious

“I can’t even remember what I used to enjoy. I feel nothing. Or—I can’t even say that, because feeling nothing would still be a feeling. It’s like I’m … empty.”

“Empty,” Christian repeats. “Have you felt empty for more than two weeks?”

I chuckle mirthlessly. “I can’t remember the last time I felt anything other than …” I pause. I don’t wanna talk about vengeance. “Other than bad feelings.” I squeeze Kurt’s hand. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says immediately.

“I mean,” I try to explain, “it’s not like I’m crying all the time. I feel sad about my mama, but that’s not sitting around feeling sad. It’s hard to explain.”

“What about feeling irritated?”

“Not so much.”

“Angry?”

“Yes.” I hesitate. “More like guilt.”

“Guilt,” Christian repeats. “Do you know why?”

I study my boots. “Maybe because I can’t help my mama.”

“So do you feel helpless?”

“Yes,” I say, and some vehemence comes out. “I feel stuck. Like I can’t do anything right. I can’t change anything, and I can’t make anything better. And it’s all gone to shit.”

“You feel stuck,” Christian says. “Have you had anything change physically? Lost or gained weight?”

I shake my head.

“Do you sleep well?”

“Not really.”

“How’s your appetite?”

“Don’t have much of one,” I say.

“And over the past month, how often have you had thoughts of suicide?”

“The past month?” I ask. She nods. “I’d say every five minutes or so. Maybe more. I couldn’t shake the idea. Can’t shake it.”

“And before that?”

“Yeah, definitely before that, because it took me months of refilling the medication and not taking it before I got enough pills. As time went on, though, I got more and more … bad. Just feeling worthless. Like the only value I have is if I kill myself so my mama can get better.”

“I’m so sorry you feel that way,” Christian says kindly. “You know that’s not true, don’t you?”

I shrug and bite my lip. Kurt’s been trying to stay quiet and let this be about me—which I appreciate—but his hand tightens on mine.

“Your life has value whether you send your mother money or not. The idea that you can only be worthwhile or worthy if you kill yourself is simply not true,” Christian repeats.

“No fucking way is it true,” Kurt says.

“You can say that, but I don’t believe it,” I say, then look at my feet. “Just being honest.”

“Please do be honest,” Christian says. “Who do you have to talk about with this? Besides Kurt, that is?”

“No one.”

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