Page 37 of The Edge Of Us

I was halfway through sketching Astrid's hands-those tiny little fists that used to flail at 3 a.m.-when the new girl walked in.

She was wearing the same pale blue sweats we all were, but there was something about her. Chin held high, like she refused to be broken, even though her frame was brittle and shaking. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, coolly, like she was already calculating who to avoid.

And then... they landed on me.

For a second, something flickered. Recognition? Pity? I couldn't tell.

She turned her head and walked to the far corner, sitting cross-legged with her back straight like a soldier. A ghost of a girl.

Her name was Brittany Ashford. The senator's daughter. That senator.

I only found out the next day, when Sylvia whispered it to me during group therapy, like she was passing me state secrets.

"She's a mess," Sylvia said, voice low but not unkind. "Came in late last night. Parents dumped her here on the hush."

"She looks like she hasn't eaten in weeks," I whispered back.

"That's because she hasn't. Bulimia. Severe."

"And the scars?"

Sylvia nodded. "Both kinds."

I looked back at Brittany, who was staring blankly ahead while Tate spoke about his latest nightmare. She didn't flinch. Didn't cry. Didn't even blink.

But I knew that look. I'd worn it before. The hollow stare of someone holding themselves together with invisible thread.

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Dr. Bennett's Office - Later That Day

The sessions with Dr. Bennett were nothing like Dr. Michaels. She didn't ease in. She peeled. Slowly, meticulously. Every session a new layer.

Today, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

"You've stopped asking to leave," she said.

"I stopped pretending I was ready," I answered, tracing my finger along a seam in the couch cushion.

She nodded. "Progress."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"Progress rarely does. It feels like failure at first. Like surrender."

I swallowed. "I almost did it. That night. I wasn't trying to make a point. I really wanted to go."

Bennett didn't react. She was good at that-no flinching, no shock. Just calm. Contained.

"I believe you," she said. "And I'm really, really glad you didn't."

"I think about it still. Not like before. But... the ache's still there."

She nodded. "The ache will be there until you make peace with the version of you who stood on that ledge."

"I don't want to make peace with her. I want to forget she existed."

Bennett met my eyes, her tone gentle but firm. "Corinne... she saved you. That broken, exhausted woman called out to her son. She stepped down. She's part of you. The part that chose to stay."

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