I don't know why I'm here.

Scratch that: I do know why I'm here. I do, but I still don't know how being here can help.

"Clare?"

I glance up. Mr. Handeg is staring at me across the room. His blue eyes are trying to make eye contact with mine. I turn away in disgust.

"How are you, Clare?"

"Fine," I choke out. Fine. Isn't that what I told everybody? That I was fine? Well, I wasn't. But I guess everyone knew that now, or else I wouldn't be here.

"Mr. Handeg?" The receptionist with curly hair and a phony smile stuck her head in. "You have another client waiting for you in the hall."

"Excellent." Mr. Handeg turned and smiled at me. I scoffed at him. "Clare, I want you to meet somebody. He's going through some of the same things you are."

Oh, he is, is he?

I forced a brief smile and nodded.

The receptionist disappeared for a moment, presumably to get the other client. Poor kid. If he was here, something must be wrong with him.

Like something was wrong with me.

Mr. Handeg sat there, frozen. "Clare," He said quickly, like an afterthought. "Just warning you, this kid's bipolar. So he might be a little…"

Bipolar.

"I'm not crazy, okay? I'm bipolar."

He was bipolar.

"No no no no no," I mumbled, shaking my head, like the crazy lunatic I was. "No, no, no… I can't see him…"

"Clare?" Mr. Handeg turned to me, concerned. "Talking to this kid could help you. He's going through the same thing you are. His—"

"HE WAS BIPOLAR!" I shouted. "He… he…"

Eli. Eli was bipolar.

I never told anyone that. Not Mr. Handeg, not Mom, not Dad…

"Oh," Mr. Handeg mouthed, eyes widening. "I see."

Oh yes. You see.

"In that case, it might be essential that you two talk," Mr. Handeg continued. "You know, for closure…"

"NO!" I yelled at him. He didn't even flinch. "I can't!"

"Clare," He said sternly. "I need you to take a deep breath… one…. two… three… And let it out… that's my girl…"

"I'm sorry," I said more calmly. "But I just can't."

He gazed at me. "Why not?"

"Because…" I took a breath, calming myself down. "Because I can't handle anything that reminds me of him."

He nods. "Very good, Clare," He praises. "You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. See where you can get by using words instead of shouting?"

Screw you.

"Mr. Handeg?" The receptionist appeared in the doorway again, pushing someone forward. "Here he is…"

"Oh yes,' Mr. Handeg nodded. "Change of plans, Susan. Can you…"

The boy looked up. Dead eyes stared out at me.

The eyes widened.

"No," I whispered, pressing my back up against the wall, trying to get as far away from him as possible. "No, no no no no no…"

I screwed my eyes shut. My hands shook.

This can't be happening.

"Clare?" I heard Mr. Handeg's voice as though it was far away. "Are you—"

He was here.

"Get him out of here!" Mr. Handeg said calmly, his gaze on me. "She's having another panic attack!"

No, no, no. He needs to stay here. With me.

"Clare-!" Eli's panicked voice echoed off the walls. Where was he? I needed to get to him—

My scream was muffled by my knees.