Everyone has been looking at me like they know something is wrong. And they aren't wrong in thinking that. Something is wrong. I just don't know what.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm connected to Michael Sonny Corinthos Jr - there's always plenty of drama when you're involved in a mob family. The divorces, girlfriends & boyfriends, re-marriages, re-divorces, re, re-marriages... Watching the people you love suffer and get hurt. The code says family is supposed to get left out of business, but that never remains true. The family always gets hurt.

So everyone has been looking at me like they know something is wrong but no one has said anything to me. And that's fine. I don't want anyone saying anything to me. I started seeing a shrink. I got a name from Morgan, and I know he won't saying anything. The only one who would, is Michael.

Michael would do anything for me. Michael would listen, hold me if I needed to cry, protect me against anyone I felt scared of. But he can't protect me against my worst enemy.

Myself. My own sadness. My own anxiety. My own...addiction.

All of these thoughts float through my head as slow salty tears drip with my own red crimson into the sink.

Just one more. I think. But that one more goes a little wrong - it's a little deep and a little too wide. And it won't stop bleeding. My breath catches in my throat as panic begins to rise. And one names come to mind.

Michael.

I grab my cell phone and dial his number.

"Josslyn, hey!" He begins, cheerful as ever. "What do I owe the pleasure of a phone call?"

"Michael, somethings wrong."

His tone changes as soon as he hears my voice. "Where are you?"

"The house. My bathroom."

"I'm on my way."

"Hurry."

I drop my phone and slide down the wall, holding some rolled up toilet paper to my arm to try and slow the bleeding as panic continues to rise. My vision is blurred from tears.

"Josslyn?" I hear Michael quietly call while knocking on the bathroom door. I slowly sit up and unlock it. Michael bursts in.

"What's wrong?" He asks looking around the room to try and piece together the problem.

"Michael," I begin. "You have to promise not to freak out."

"Why would I—?"

"Promise me!"

"Okay! Okay, I promise."

Slowly I let my arm straighten out and remove the toilet paper. "I messed up."

Michael kneels down in front of me and delicately, as if I will shatter, takes and studies my forearm; all the way up to my shoulder. He looks at the other. I can see puzzle pieces coming together in his mind. Moreover, I can see his heart break.

"How long?" He asked looking up to meet me while grabbing a towel and holding down pressure over the cut. I wince, groaning in pain. "I have a therapist." I say.

Michael nods before lifting up the towel. "I think I need to take you to GH."

"No!" I scream jumping up. "They'll lock me up and think I wanna die or something."

"Do you?"

"No." I admit. "This helps me stay alive."

"Joss," Michael says slowly coming forward and grabbing my hands. "I don't know how to treat this. I'll call Dr. Webber and see if he'll do this on the down low. How does that sound?"

I nod. "Ok." Michael says, shifting and taking his phone out while holding pressure with his other hand. He tucks his phone against his neck, one hand holding pressure on the towel, the other holding my hand.

"Steve, hey. It's Michael." He begins. "I'm with Josslyn and she's hurt. Needs stitches I think but we can't make a big deal about it." Michael looks up at me and gives me a small smile. "Yeah, she's seeing someone. She got the name from Morgan."

"How?!"

Michael shakes his head. Morgan must've told him I was struggling. I think.

Michael hangs up the phone. "Morgan told me that you asked for names." Michael explains to me. "Made me promise to act normal."

"I understand." I whisper. "So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to the hospital." Michael said. "Dr. Webber is going to have your therapist talk to you but you won't be forced to stay or anything."

My bottom lip quivers. "I never thought that this would happen."

Michael gives me a sad smile before helping me up and into my coat. I cry out as my arm slides into the sleeve. "I know," Michael coos.

Michael helps me into the car and we are quiet as we make the drive to the hospital.

Michael drops the car at the valet before helping me inside. Dr. Webber meets us at the triage desk before quickly ushering us into a cubicle. Michael helps me up onto the table.

"Okay," Dr. Webber says sitting down in front of me. "You're in control here. Want to tell me what happened now or later."

My bottom lip quivers again as more tears spill over. "I never wanted this to happen." I whisper. "I just... It just-d"

"It just happened." Dr. Webber finished. "Let's get this cleaned and patched up, okay?"

I nod, still feeling anxiety stirring within me.

"Michael, want to help your sister out her coat?"

Michael nods holding my coat as I slip my good arm out of the sleeve. "Take your time." Michael says as I slowly slide out the other, wincing as the fabric and the towel rubs and pulls.

I roll up my sleeve all the way as Dr. Webber slips gloves on. "Can I take a look?" He asks. I nod and show him my arm, setting the towel to the side.

I expect him to freak out when he sees my skin, but only a flash of sadness comes across. Then he calmly and quietly gets to work; walking me through each step.

Before I know it, I'm patched up, had a chat with my therapist and in the car with Michael again.

"Michael," I begin. "Why are we at your place?"

"I think it might be good for you to get out of the house and stay with me for a little."

"You just want to babysit me." I say

"And so what if I do?" He asks. "I don't want my little sister hurting herself."

I look down at my feet, uncomfortable. "Let's just go inside." I whisper.

Michael unlocks the door to his apartment. "Its late and I want to go to sleep," I say walking over to the linen closet "I'll get everything set up for the couch."

"No," he says, taking the blankets out of my hand. "You get the bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"Michael, no you don't have to. It's my fault you even have to be taking care of me."

"What?" Michael asks, astonishment in his voice again. "No, Joss. I'm choosing to take care of you right now."

"But you shouldn't have to." I say, feeling tears burn in my eyes. I look away, clearing my throat. "I'm gonna get changed."

Michael nods sitting down on the couch.

I shouldn't be so hot and cold with him right now. I think. But I don't even know how I feel about myself right now.

I reach into Michael's bathroom cabinet and grab the toothbrush I left once before. I'm glad he never threw this out. I think. After, I take off my sweater and grab one of Michael's clean T-shirts and pull it on. I notice the flash of white gauze on my forearm. I reach up and lightly touch the gauze, a dull pain coming forth. "The painkillers must've worn off," I whisper.

I'm not sure how long I stand there, looking at myself in the mirror. Memories begin to flash before my eyes from my childhood, about me, my parents, my siblings. Each moment of pain plays out.

Lastly, I am brought to my own bathroom where I was just a few hours before, doing my best to cope with my world. Look where that got you.

I begin to cry.

Crying would be too delicate of a word; since I hadn't cried in ages. Really, I began to sob - each one gasping through my whole body as tears freely spilled over my cheeks.

The bathroom door opens and Michael is standing there once again, so heartbroken. "I'm sorry, Michael." I say, sobbing even harder now.

Michael draws me into his arms, "What for?"

"You look so s-s-sad because of what I've done." I sob.

"No, no." Michael says holding me tighter as I begin to shake. "Of course I'm sad but its not because of you. If anything I'm disappointed in myself for not seeing that you've been in so much pain."

"I've been avoiding you." I admit, the words barely making it out of my mouth. I gasp in another breath. "My ch-chest."

"You're panicking." Michael calmly says and walks me in to his bedroom. He pulls the covers back and helps me get up onto the bed. Once I'm wrapped in a few blankets he comes to sit next to me and draws me into a hug.

He holds me tight; rubbing my back and cradling my head. The harder I cry the tighter he holds on. And he just lets me cry.

I'm not sure how long I go on until my sobs subside and my shakes settle. I am left with dried tears and snot on my face with little hiccups of tears here and there.

"I feel so empty," I finally say quietly. So quietly I'm not even sure I said it.

"Thats good," Michael says rubbing my back.

"How?" I ask.

"You let it all out." he explains. "Now you just need to sit here for a few more moments and be filled back up with love." He pulls me back for a moment to look me in the eyes. "I love you, (Y/N). Whatever you need, I'm here. Okay?" I nod as he draws me back in.

"I love you, too Michael. Best brother ever." I say, the last line bringing out a little giggle.

I hear Michael breath out a smile. "I'm trying."

He lets go of me and slides off the bed. "Think you could get some sleep?" he asked. "Dr. Webber prescribed something if you need it."

"I think I wore myself down." I say, shaking my head.

Michael nods as I lay back. He pulls the covers over me, tucking me in, and lastly leans down to place a small kiss on my forehead. "I'll be right in the living room if you need me, okay?"

I nod.

"Hey, Josslyn?" Michael asks as he walks to the doorway of his room. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I look down at the white gauze for a moment. "For the first time," I begin. "Yeah, I think I will."

Michael and I smile at each other before he shuts the light and closes the door. The exhaustion hits me and within moments, I'm drifting off to sleep.