Page 137 of Eternal

“Are you sure about that?” Dad’s cruelness fades, and he’s talking softly now. “Jase tried to hand you a water to sober you up, but you started arguing with him for no reason.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“That’s what Jase said.” Dad glances at Dr. Parish like my differing recollection is proof. “He said you got upset and tried to kill yourself again.”

“I didn’t.” I take a step back. “I stumbled into the road on accident.”

He’s trying to turn this inside out like he did three years ago. He’s trying to use my own mind against me. I remember what happened at the cabin.

Talking to Declan.

The music.

The games.

I remember.

“Don’t do this.” I shake my head.

“Don’t do what, honey?” His false sweetness has my insides curdling. “We care about you, and we want you to get better. I’ve been putting this off because I hoped you were healing on your own. But I see it now.”

“Putting what off?”

Dad looks at Dr. Parish, not answering my question. “Did you get the paperwork?”

“I did.”

“So you see now?” Dad waves a hand in my direction. “She’s losing touch with reality.”

Dr. Parish glances my way, and I almost think I spot sympathy for a split second. I stare into the eyes of the first doctor who made me feel heard when I was speaking, realizing it’s been a lie. I watch him as his gaze hardens, and I lose all hope.

“We’re here to help you, Teal.” Dr. Parish steps forward.

My head is shaking before he finishes that sentence. My entire body trembles as I look to Mom for help. She’s still sitting at the table, watching this all play out, silent, like she has no voice to change what’s happening.

“Mom?”

She avoids my gaze, dropping it to her plate instead. “You’ve been reckless, honey. You need help.”

“No.” I step back, my body shaking. “This isn’t real. You’re manipulating me again.”

Dr. Parish reaches into his backpack and pulls out a syringe. My hands shake as I back myself against the wall. The two of them block the doorway so there’s nowhere to run.

But the most terrifying thing is how they all watch me like I’m the one losing my mind. Their stares make me question if they’re right.

Digging my hands into my hair, I brush it back off my face and try to use the scratch of my nails on my scalp to tether me to reality.

“This is to calm you down,” Dr. Parish says as he takes a step forward.

“Please don’t,” I beg. “Please. I’m not sick. I’m not. I’m getting better.”

No amount of begging stops my father and Dr. Parish from reaching for me. I try to dart around them, but my father catches me, holding my arms behind my back so Dr. Parish can stick me with the needle.

Whatever is in the syringe burns as it enters my body. It has my mind melting like ice cream.

It’s familiar.

I’ve felt this before.

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