hELLO. I have been quite busy this past week, having been in Florida, but I managed to write a little chapter for you all.

CHAPTER 25

I caved.

This morning, the moment my alarm went off, I ran to Dr. Marshall's office and told her everything.

I felt so terrible. If I was a child in lower levels, the other students would call me a tattle tale. But I had to do it. I was up all night, tossing and turning over the thought of Tobias doing the same, alone every night in the dark with his thoughts, waiting until the moment his body no longer had the energy keep functioning.

When I told her, her face showed the slightest flicker of concern before she rolled in her desk chair to her filing cabinet, taking out his file and hurriedly scribbling down something in the pages. She praised me greatly for informing her, telling me that I should remember to report any future cases of a suicidal patient. I just nodded, dismissing myself to the cafeteria, where I forced food into my churning stomach, ignoring Carmindy when she asked me where Tobias had gone. I checked by his room afterwards, wondering if by any chance he was still there, sitting on his bed with a book open on his lap. But the door was open, the sheets were stripped from his mattress, and a nurse was crouched on the floor, sweeping up the shattered remains of the lamp that once sat on his night stand. She startled slightly as I entered, snapping her head around and letting out breathy laugh when her eyes settled on me.

"Oh, dear, is there something you need?" She stood up, smoothing her hands over her skirt, and I could see a red imprint around her wrist, bruises already cropping up on her pale skin. I shivered.

"What happened to Tobias?" My voice was so quiet, like a frightened mouse. I cringed in on myself, suddenly feeling so small. The room was so cold, I was sure that I could see my breath hovering in the air. Goosebumps raised on my arms, pricking in apprehension.

"Oh," she smiled the monstrous toothy smile. I could see the terror in her eyes, badly hidden in the shaking of her voice. "They just brought him to the hospital wing. He should be back soon."

He didn't come back for days. I searched for him everywhere, hoping every meal that I would find him in his usual seat. I would sit in the library at our table for hours, hoping that he would come through the doors with a smile on his face and a book in his hand, ready to tell me all about it. He never answered his door, never was outside Dr. Marshall's office when I was leaving therapy, and was never wandering through the hallways aimlessly. I tried to go to the hospital wing and check on him, but the nurse at the front desk said that he wasn't allowed any visitors.

I started taking my food and eating in the bathroom by the cafeteria after I almost had a panic attack and he wasn't there to comfort me. I liked the silence, the solitude. It wasn't suffocating like my room was, and no one could hear me sob on the floor if I closed the door and locked it. I would always sit under the sinks, avoiding the mirrors and the glass-eyed girl that copied my motions when I stood in front of them. The tile was easy to clean blood off of too, if I just made sure to stay close to the floor drain when I was using the knife that I stole when I snuck into the kitchen late one night before curfew.

It has been four days now. I leave the bathroom, having just spent ten minutes scrubbing at my skin in the sink until the last of the pink water swirled down the drain. I pull my shirt down to make sure the handle of the knife isn't peeking out of the waist line of my pants, hurrying back to my room to change out of my clothes tarnished with dark red paint splatters before my therapy session. I am always careful to keep my clothes clean, but this time, my eyes were too blurred by tears to see where the blood was dripping. I only looked in the mirror once, to make sure that all the tear tracks were gone and my eyes were no longer red before leaving. Most people are still at lunch, but I still take a few unused hallways to make sure that I am not seen.

I don't tell anything to Dr. Marshall, knowing that if she suspected anything, she would send me to the hospital, just like Tobias. I don't need to go there. I am completely fine. Others just don't understand my ways of coping. They should be happy that I am better now, now that I finally got my knife back. If they knew what I have gone through, they would understand. They would understand why I do what I do. It's just like my medication, it helps me think straight, it makes the bad thoughts go away. They just don't understand. That's why I have to keep it a secret.

As I leave Dr. Marshall's office, I am baffled to see him there. He leans there, wounded shoulder against the wall so it looks like he has his arm stuck in the plaster, just like always. I almost think that my eyes are tricking me, until he glances up, his eyes meeting mine in surprise. My hands shake like they did my first week here, like Tobias being gone has made me crave his closeness, but I have only just now realized it. My mouth goes dry, seeing the way his jaw tightens slightly at the sight of me. My arms sting as I clench my fists to hide the trembles, panic rising in my throat as my heart starts beating against my rib cage. I notice the bandage around his hand, my brain trying to piece together what exactly happened in his room when they took him away.

Suddenly, it is all too much, and I fall against him, throwing my arms around his torso, sobbing apologies into his chest.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have told anyone. I was just so worried about you!"

The guilt is heavier than ever, pressing into me like I am a pin cushion. I want to regret telling the doctor about him, but I am too glad that he is still standing here, wrapped in my arms. He will probably hate me now, knowing that I can't keep a secret for shit.

But I am disproven again, as he doesn't pull away and start screaming, or worse. He instead pulls me closer, resting his head on my shoulder and letting out a huge sigh.

"It's okay," he breathes into my skin. "It's okay. It's over for now. I'm fine. I'm better." His voice is low, rumbling like thunder. I feel it in his chest, pressed against mine, plucking my ribs like harp strings. Utter relief runs through my veins, but my legs shake under me in shock of his closeness. I have forgotten what he feels like, what it's like to be with him like this. My body trills with energy, his warmth giving power to my muscles, shining a light on my darkened heart. I feel like I am waking up, after an eternal hibernation. I want to cry, let out everything that I have gone through since I embraced him last.

I remember now why we were together. We need each other. We are two halves of a mind that fit together like gears, our bodies like puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. And the fact that it feels so good to be near him. Even though we clash like water and oil, we are made for each other. I remember something that Tobias read, something about some philosopher saying that humans were born with four legs and four arms, but were split in two and cast apart to search for their other half. I believe that. I know that Tobias is my other half, and that we are meant to be together, because of the way my chest flutters like an ember catching flame when his hand moves up my back, his lips brushing against my shoulder as pulls away from me.

"How have you been?" He asks, looking straight into my eyes like he hasn't in a long time. He looks like he actually cares, like he actually has empathy for me, unlike anyone else working in this facility.

"Fine." I haven't been fine at all, but that doesn't matter, because I am great, now that he is back. "What about you?"

He chuckles uncomfortably, his eyes moving to the ground. "Well, not so great, but defiantly better than I was before."

"Did you sleep?" I ask eagerly, my concern for him overwhelming all else.

"Yeah, a lot, actually, after they sedated me."

"What? They sedated you?" I ask in surprise.

He takes his hand off my shoulder to run it through his hair, but then remembers that it is bandaged and decides against it, letting his hand fall to his side in annoyance. "Yeah, after they sewed my hand up. I kind of got angry when they came to get me and threw my lamp at the wall, and then tripped and fell on the broken light bulb." Blush creeps up his neck in embarrassment. "I had to get ten stitches from my middle finger to my thumb."

"Oh," I reply, remembering the nurse who was cleaning up his room when I went to find him.

"It really sucks for me, because I only have the one hand to begin with, and this just makes everything harder-" he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, turning to the wall and preparing to punch it, but realizes his mistake and just leans his forehead against it, breathing in and out heavily.

"It's okay." I put my hands on his shoulders, pulling him away from the wall. "I can help you."

"No, I-"

The door to Dr. Marshall's office opens, the doctor herself stepping out and looking up from her clip board at the both of us, something shifting in her expression ever so slightly.

"Hello, Tobias. You need to come in for your therapy session." She moves her gaze to me. "Beatrice, I recommend that you get back to your room."

Tobias's and my eyes meet, his pleading for some reason not to leave me. I wish that he didn't have to leave as well, but I don't think that I could change the mind of Dr. Marshall. I shake my head minutely, so only he could see, and give his shoulder one last squeeze before walking away, only looking back when I hear the door close. I stand there for a moment in the empty hallway, alone, feeling the chill creep back into my bones at the realization that Tobias was the one that hurt that nurse, no matter how much I want to deny it.

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