I woke up surprisingly refreshed, even though I'd barely slept four hours. After a quick shower, I slipped into a sundress that made me feel lighter than I should have. Downstairs, the morning carried itself like any other day—a good day.
Nolan was at the stove, flipping pancakes like he didn't have a care in the world. I perched on the island and watched him work.
"Good morning," he greeted, unusually chipper.
"Well, good morning to you too," I replied with a smile.
When he finished, we sat at the table together, forks clinking against plates. The silence stretched until he finally broke it.
"We could stay like this, you know."
"If Mum were alive—"
"No,' he cut me off, eyes steady. "Just us."
Five seconds of silence stretched between us, heavy and endless, like the room itself was holding its breath.
"You know…' he said slowly, fork still in hand, "this won't end well for either of us."
"No. It won't end well for you." I didn't flinch but I almost sounded defensive.
He shrugged with a small smile. "Guess I should've searched your room."
My lips curved into a sharp smile. "Well, you didn't."
Silence pressed in before he added, almost casually, "And you should've stayed at the hospital. For therapy."
My head snapped up. "What?"
Right on cue, the doorbell rang, followed by a hard, urgent knock. Nolan pushed back his chair and went to answer it.
The police were on the other side.
"Mr. Nolan Reeds, you are under arrest for murder, attempted murder, and destruction of evidence. You have the right to remain silent," the inspector said as he cuffed him.
"Wait," Nolan interjected, his tone unsettlingly calm. He leaned in and whispered something to the officers.
A moment later, two women in white scrubs stepped inside. Their faces were blank, their movements stiff, almost mechanical.
Without a word, they latched onto my arms. Their grip was cold, unyielding.
"Come with us," one of them said, her voice flat and unnatural, like she was reading from a script.
"Wait—there's been some kind of mistake!" I struggled as they started steering me toward the door.
"Wait for me," Nolan called out, his smirk; the last thing I saw before we were torn apart.
I should've felt victorious—I'd finally outed him. But instead, dread pooled in my chest. He hadn't just prepared for this moment; he'd made sure I'd look insane.
He knew. Why did I ever think he wouldn't act when he noticed the missing video on the other phone? My thoughts spiraled as the van carried me toward a mental health hospital, the city blurring past the barred windows.
Everything inside happened too fast to process. Blood drawn. Urine collected. A flurry of tests to "ensure my health." My clothes taken, my body searched, a bland uniform pressed into my hands. Faces without names introduced themselves as staff. Then a room—bare except for a bed bolted to the floor, a door, and a window too high to see out of.
I sat there, stunned, trying to retrace every step that had brought me here.
Someone checked on me every hour. Just like that, I spent my first night in a mental hospital.
I woke with a stiff back from the thin mattress. The room felt like a box built for forgetting people. Still, I replayed every detail of my plan to make sure Nolan's crimes were documented.
That night, when he'd come after me, I'd swapped the phone in my room for the one in my wardrobe and tried to escape through the window before he caught me. I'd already emailed the video to the officer in charge. "That should be enough", I told myself.
Honestly, I still saw the faceless figures sometimes, whispering my name—but no one needed to know that.
The door opened. A male and female nurse entered, the woman, holding out a small cup of pills.
"Take these", she said flatly.
"I'm not taking those. There's nothing wrong with me!" My voice rose before I could stop it.
She stepped closer and pressed the cup into my hand. Heat flared in my chest. I hurled the pills at the wall.
"I said I'm not taking that!"
"Patient is refusing medication and exhibiting violent tendencies," the male nurse said from near the door, scribbling on his clipboard like he'd been waiting for me to snap.
The woman pushed me back toward the bed. They left without another word.
Panic started to claw at me. This is a set-up. I can't let this happen.
Seconds later, two larger male nurses rushed in.
"Wait—please! This is a misunderstanding!" I begged, trying to back away. "Please!"
My gaze snagged on the first male nurse, still watching. Rage overtook me and I lunged toward him—but strong hands caught me. Straps bit into my wrists as they tied me to the bed. A needle pricked my arm.
Drowsiness crept in as the room blurred. "Why did I do that?", I thought, sinking under the weight of the drug. I've only made things worse. I'm trapped—and they're all in on it.
I opened my eyes. The room was dark — too dark. Night already?
At the foot of my bed stood my mother, wearing the same sundress I'd had on before they brought me here.
She climbed onto the bed, moving toward me on her hands and knees. My lips felt strange, like they weren't even attached to my face anymore. I tried to move, but nothing — not even my fingers would twitch.
By the time she was face-to-face with me, her features had vanished. A smooth, faceless mask stared back at me.
She stopped. The silence dragged, stretching time thin.
Then she let out an ear-splitting shriek that made my skull vibrate. Her hands clamped down on my shoulders and she shook me—
—and suddenly I was staring up at the female nurse from earlier.
She untied me and, without a word, led me down the corridor toward a doctor's office.
I sat down and stared at her without a word.
"I'm sure you know the reason you're here is because Nolan wants you here," she said evenly.
I kept my face blank, refusing to give her a reaction.
"You actually do have a problem," she went on. "I don't know what's going on between you and Nolan, and I don't know why a grown man is even fighting with a minor—but I'm here to help."
Still, I stared at her, unreadable.
"A patient with a case as weak as mine isn't supposed to be here more than seventy-two hours," I finally said flatly.
"Okay, fine. Let me ask you this—if you leave here, where would you go? Foster care?"
"That's none of your business."
"One month."
"What?"
"Stay here a month for treatment. After that, do whatever you like."
She waited.
"Deal?"
I exhaled. "Deal."
I walked out of her office with the word echoing in my head. A month. Maybe that was enough time—for me…or for Nolan.