Chapter Three:

Dysfunctional

They found this guy in Maine who had been living completely alone in the woods for 30 years, they called him the last true hermit. 30 years without the warmth of human touch, without conversation. The hermit felt more lonely when he was out in the world than he ever felt in the woods by himself. Surrounded by people but drowning in solitude.

- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy

The Bronx, New York, New York – 2 and a half months ago

Ainslie's been gone for days. Weeks even. Mike is pissed. So pissed. I've never seen him this mad before. He takes it out on Ryleigh and me. It's nothing new. He calls us names. Attacks us with objects. Makes me work for days on end. Client after client. High after high. Night after night. I try to protect Ryleigh, keep her safe. I hide her in the laundry basket when things get really bad. Head phones go over her ears and dirty clothes go over her body.

Sometimes things are so bad that I can't even keep myself safe. He yells when I don't bring home enough money. He hits me. He throws me against the wall. Fucking slut. Good for nothing bitch. Make me some more money cunt.

Sometimes he won't let me inside until he's satisfied, with the money I made, with the amount of men I slept with.

Sometimes even that won't please him. The amount of money I make, the drugs I bring back, it is never good enough. Sometimes, the only way to survive is to please him in other ways. Unspeakable ways. And even though those are the times I dread the most, for a while the hitting, the yelling, the name calling, it all stops. And for a while, Ryleigh and I, we get to be free.

During these days, I keep her out of the apartment. We explore New York. We ride the ferryboat, over and over again, until the sunsets, until the day ends, until reality hits again. Today, I decided to take Ryleigh to Manhattan. We sit on the bench in the Westside of Central Park. Derek and Addison's townhouse stares back at us. It's lifeless inside.

"When I grow up," Ryleigh says liking her ice cream cone. "I wanna live here. I wanna live in a big house. With all the ice cream you can eat."

"I think you might get a belly ache," I laugh.

"When Mommy gets back she can live in the house too. Not Mike. He scares me."

"He scares me too. Not all Daddy's are scary though. My Daddy isn't scary." Sometimes, I miss my Daddy more then anything.

"That's cause your Daddy is a doctor and he helps people." Bubble gum ice cream covers Ryleigh's mouth. It drizzles down her chin. "He can live with us in our big house too."

A perfect Mommy, a perfect Daddy. It's what's all kids dream of, isn't it? I had that once, back in Seattle.

"Hey Ryleigh," I say, still eyeing Derek and Addison's townhouse. "We could go inside a big house. We could live there, just for today. How does that sound?"

"Yeah!" Ryleigh excitedly jumps up off the park bench. "Which house are we gonna live in?"

"That one," I point towards the townhouse, without hesitation. "It's my Daddy's house."

"You're Daddy lives there?" Ryleigh's eyes widen. "Let's go. Come on. Come on." Ryleigh grabs my hand. My body pulls it's self upward. We head across the street, to Derek and Addison's townhouse.

I glance around it, trying to figure out a way to get inside. I grab a rock from the front garden, throw it against the basement window, and then move the board in front of the window.

"Why are we going in the door?" Ryleigh looks up at the walkway, towards the doorway.

"He's not living there now," I explain. "He's gone away for a little bit. So we have to get in this way. Stay right there okay?"

I crawl through the window, it's a bit of a jump before I land on the concrete floor. From inside the Brownstone, only Ryleigh's legs remain visible, and her beloved stuffed rabbit which she holds in one hand.

"You're going to have to crawl inside, okay baby? I'll catch you when you jump."

Ryleigh hesitates before she squiggles herself through the little window, falling into my arms. As we make our way upstairs, the alarm begins to go off. Ryleigh's hands cover her ears. I drag her the rest of the way up the stairs, hurrying into the main Foyer, turning the alarm off.

I then turn back around to Ryleigh who stands in the middle of the Foyer flabbergasted.

"Well," I announce. "Who wants to play hide and go sneak?"

She laughs and runs to go hide. Minutes later, I find her buried inside Derek and Addison's walk in closet. Memories form and sadness emerges. I brush it away so Ryleigh doesn't see.

"Found you!" I collide on the floor beside her. Derek's clothes surround us. Ryleigh lets out a scream of excitement, beginning to run. My hands reach out around her waist, pulling her on top of me. Laughter fills the room as I smuggle her with tickles.

"I like it here," Ryleigh's brown eyes gleam. "I wanna live here forever and ever."

"I wanna live here forever and ever too," I hold Ryleigh close. But would Derek want me back, knowing all the bad things I've done? Knowing all the men I've slept with? Knowing all the drugs I've taken, and the nights I barely remember? How could someone else want me, when I don't even want myself?

Derek's POV

Pick it up, pick it all up.
And start again.
You've got a second chance,
you could go home.
Escape it all.
It's just irrelevant.

It's just medicine.
It's just medicine.

There's so much she's not telling us and I'm dying to know.

I'm dying to know what happened in New York. I'm dying to know where she was for two years. I'm dying to know her secrets and the stories she refuses to tell.

The thing is, her secrets, her untold stories, scare her. They terrify her. They're vivid reminders of the trauma she endured. She keeps the memories trapped so she can't remember. But sometimes, they're too much to bear, so she turns to the only thing she believes that can help her forget.

"I want the three of you to start the session by playing a game," Dr. Wyatt informs us.

"A game?" My daughter huffs from the chair beside me, rolling her eyes. "What good is that going to do?"

"It will help me get to know you better, get an idea on your struggles as a family and where you would like to be."

"They aren't my family," Julia spits back at her. "I'm not playing this."

"Mini D," I let out a frustrating sigh.

Her, Addison and I are at a family therapy session. Julia of course refused to come. Addison and I were at a crossroads, so we had no choice but to bribe her, telling her she could have Meg over to the house if she came to family therapy.

"Addison why don't you start?" Dr. Wyatt ignores my daughters previous comment. "Just pick a card from the top of the deck and on the back of the card it will have a question that I want you to answer."

"Explain the one thing your family argues over the most," Addison reads off the card she picked.

Silence builds in the office as Addison takes a minute to think about answer. Possible answers run through my mind as she waits.

My daughter. Drugs. Our divorce. Mark. Meredith.

"We are over a lot of things," Addison finally answers. "One of the biggest things we argue about is consequences. Derek and I have difficulty setting them and keeping them. Julia can be very manipulative at times."

"This is stupid," Julia murmurs.

"How do you think the three of you can change this?" Dr. Wyatt asks.

"Maybe set the consequences together, the three of us. Figure out something reasonable for the consequence, and stick with it."

Addison's eyes drift over to me for approval. I nod in agreement.

"Derek why don't you go next?" Dr. Wyatt hands the deck of cards over to me.

Taking one off the top, I read it out loud. "What brought you here today?" There's silence again while I think of my answer this time.

"We've all been through a lot the last couple of year. When Mini D left it was hard on both of us, and our friends. We're all still pretty hostile towards each other. We're all trying to deal with the changes that happened. Addison and I are worried Mini D is using drugs. My sister found out Julia was using right before she ran away—and in New York, she went through some things too. But Julia refuses to talk to us about what happened. She refuses to talk to us about anything."

"That's not true!" Julia breathes, her body almost jumping out of her chair.

"You don't agree with this Julia?" Dr. Wyatt questions her.

"I just think this is all bullshit. We're so broken, we aren't a family and no amount of therapy is going to help us be a family."

"How do you know this if you don't try?" Dr. Wyatt counters back.

"They're divorced, and Addison doesn't even live here. There is a waste of time," she jumps up fully from her chair. Instantly, I know she's going to run. "I'm not sitting here wasting my time when this isn't going to work."

"Do you want this to work?" Dr. Wyatt stares Julia right in the eye. "Because if you want this family to work, you are going to have to try to. It takes effort from everyone."

"This is bullshit," Julia spits one last time before rushing to the door. It slams and she disappears.

"Damn it," I whisper under my breath. I stand up to go after her.

"Wait," Dr. Wyatt stops me. "Take a seat Derek. She's angry. Nothings going to change that."

"I don't want to lose her again," I admit. "Last time she ran; she ran away to New York."

"Something tells me that's not going to happen."

"You don't know my daughter," I shoot back.

"She came back didn't she? She came home all by herself. That says something Dr. Shepherd. Your daughter wants to be here. She wants things to work."

"I just wish there was more we could do for her," Addison lets out a heavy sigh.

"Your doing more then enough by being here for her right now. Your relationship with her is going to take time," Dr. Wyatt shares. " A lot of things changed in the past two years. You just can't erase everything that has happened. Just like you can't erase everything that went on in your lives before Julia showed up."

"She's this mixture," Addison continues. "Between this loveable child and hideous monster. There's no middle ground with her. Just extreme high's and extreme low's."

"I'm sure the two of you have heard of attachment disorder, correct?" Addison and I both nod. "Julia went through so much complex trauma while she was in foster care. The majority of youth in foster care often display signs of attachment disorders. They'll test you. They'll do anything to try and break you, to make you leave. Try and see things from her side, nearly everyone she loved has doubted her and she's been hurt countless times. She comes home to the place she feels the safest, and finds out things have completely changed. So on top of what she is dealing with personally, she has these new changes to deal with as well. All the stimulation, it's hard for her to cope."

"How do we help her cope?" I question. "How to we build that attachment with her?"

"Your doing that now," Dr. Wyatt smiles at Addison and I. "You're showing her that you care and that you aren't going any where. When she lashes out, don't take it personality. It's her coping mechanism. When you have the chance, sit down with Julia and make a list of things she enjoys doing, and people she enjoys spending time with, show her there are other ways to cope, to deal with things."

"That seems doable," I agree.

"At your next session, I want to see the list. I also want the two of you to make of list of the positive moments over the next few days, they don't have to be big things. By making a list, it's going to help see the progress the three of you are making, and hopefully show Julia that family therapy does work. Why don't we end things here for today, and you can book another appointment on the way out for next week."

"Thank you," I say, as Addison also sends Dr. Wyatt a small smile. "We'll see you next week."

Julia's POV

You could still be,
what you want to,
What you said you were,
when I met you.

"Everyone's going to be so excited to see you!" Meg announces, as we walk down Aurora Ave.

It's evening now, and it's been a few hours since I ran from family therapy. Shrinks and I don't get along. We never have. Ever since I was little, they would ask questions, trying to pry secrets out of me. I wouldn't answer half the questions they asked, and if they did, the answer was one they didn't want to hear. After running from therapy, I went to Meg's house, and we're on our to a party.

The party is at in some abandoned building on Aurora Ave. Music blasts as we climb up the front steps. Red plastic cups, brown glass beer bottles, and garbage scatter the front lawn. Broken glass shatters the ground. Weed, and cigarette smoke fills my nose.

Bodies are every where. Dancing. Standing. Sitting. Drinking.

Drugs are everywhere too.

Meg hands me the bottle of vodka she stole from her parent's liquor cabinet. I take a large gulp before handing it back.

"I need something stronger," My hand searches through my bag for my Oxycodone.

"This isn't strong enough?" Meg makes a face, after taking another sip.

I pull out the plastic baggy, with one pill left inside.

"Come on!" Meg starts towards the crowd of dancing bodies. "Let's dance." She grabs my hand, which I pull back.

"After I take this."

"If my Mom catches me high, I'm toast and can say goodbye to spring break in Mexico. I'll see you inside."

Meg within seconds, she's disappeared into the crowd.

I place the pill on a near by window ledge, and grab a rock from the ground, smashing it so powder forms, then inhaling the powder through my nose. An instant high emerges. And before I know I, I've disappeared too, into the crowd of bodies, loud music and flickering lights.

Lights flash all around me. They're bright. They're beautiful. My eye stay closed. My body sways to the beat, to the thumping of the music. Images appear. Unrealistic ones. Memories of blood and corpses. Then there's the sounds of horrifying screams. Then there's Mike.

What the fuck did you do?

Blood is everywhere. On my hands. On my clothes. Arms grab a hold of me.

You did this didn't you? Infinity has never felt so long.

You fucking killed her. You fucking killed them.

Shame. Guilt. Truth. Lies. All jumbled together. I didn't kill them! Nobody hears. Nobody cares.

You fucking killed them. You fucking killed them.

Blurry vision. Fading colorings. Distant voices. I squeeze through the bodies. I try to get out. His face appears. Hands reach towards me. His face appears. It doesn't go away. It never goes away.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" Meg yells through the music. "Are you okay?"

Circles spin around me. They pull me in. His face appears. It's everywhere.

"Julia!" Her hands shake me. I squeeze through the bodies. I try to get out.

Giggles. Little giggles. I'm over here. I'm over here sissy.

A breeze of wind welcomes me outside. I trip over the steps, face planting in the grass. Her face appears. His is nowhere. She skips ahead in the distance. I push myself up off the grass and start running after her.

Speeding vehicles. Nosy trucks. We cross the highway. Horns blare.

I wanna go home, sissy. Take me home. More giggles. City street signs are passed. Crosswalks are crossed. Sidewalks are walked on.

Come on. Come on.

My feet move faster. My heart pumps louder. My mind continues to trip. I'm on the Cotton train. Highs and Lows. Ups and Downs.

We're here. Giggles fill my ears again. Everything stands still. We're home. The Four Seasons. The condo. She brought me home.

The door's locked. Damnit. They'll be a lecture. They'll be yelling. Then the questions will arise and the high will die. The worst part is knowing I have let them down again. Letting people down, is the only thing I'm good at. Tearing them up, then taking their hearts out, and leaving them with pain. Everlasting pain.

Mark's POV

You've got a warm heart,
you've got a beautiful brain.
But it's disintegrating,
from all the medicine.
from all the medicine.
from all the medicine.
Medicine.

A buzzing noise awakens me, following by a pounding headache. It echos through my ears, into my head. Letting out a frustrating groan, I reach my hand over to the nightstand, trying to grasp a hold of my phone.

Missed calls appear. A lot of them. From Derek. From Addison. Text messages follow.

I've been avoiding them. I've been staying out at the trailer, drowning my sorrows with alcohol.

It looks like their kid has done it again. She has gone of the deep end, creating hell for everyone around her.

I call Addison back. "What's it this time?" I ask, sitting up, rubbing my head.

"She ran, after therapy a social worker is coming a bit."

"You did what?" The social worker, if she comes, she'll take Mini D away.

"A social worker is coming in a bit, to help us work things out." Addison repeats herself again.

"Do you realize what you just did!" I yell angrily into the phone. "They're going to take her away. They're going to see you can't handle her, and they're going to take her."

"We should have called them when she got here Mark. The court gave Derek custody of her until but he didn't follow through on the plan that was created to show he could maintain custody of her."

"We can't go through this all again. Derek has custody." My voice is softer now. I attempt to keep things together.

"That's exactly the point Mark. Derek has custody, he gets to decide what to do. We need help. Therapy is just not going to work. We need to figure out a plan that is."

"Then we do it without dealing with social services," I argue back. "Mini D is never going to forgive you for this." Honestly, if Mini D gets taken away, I'll never forgive them either.

"Stop avoiding us. I get that your hurting Mark. We are all hurting. Come back to the condo we'll talk to the social worker together when she gets here."

"I'm not going back to the condo Addison. I just need a break."

"Mark…Julia-" Addison begins.

"Somehow I held everything together when she left. I dealt with all the crap you and Derek couldn't. Now I need a break. Now it's my turn to have a break."

"We need help Mark," Addison says again.

"Put her in rehab Addie. Call Amelia. Amy will help."

"Amelia can't know," Addison breathes. They're scared if Amy comes home, she'll relapse again. I understand they're worried. It's been over a year since Amy got sober.

"It's been over a year Addie, Amelia is fine. She can handle it."

"Even if she can, Julia might not be able to. Things are fucked up as it is."

"It might be good for her," I argue back. "She talks to Amy, unlike the rest of us."

"If you call Amelia Mark, the social worker, she's still coming over. We're still going through with it." I know there's no convincing her otherwise. I don't think I can go through this all again. Everything's a mess, and Amelia, she's the only one who can fix it.

"Mark?" Amy answers, after I hung up the phone with Addison. Her voice hisses back again, through the echoing static.

Someone's got to call her sooner or later. Amelia, she always knows how to fix things.

"Is everything alright?" She again questions after I don't respond.

"You need to come home," I whisper. "Everything is a mess, and you need to come home."