Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sega/Archie except my OCs.

Chapter 29

Fooling Dr. Guerra wasn't as easy as I thought. Effortlessly, she saw through my white lies and feigned expression. She consistently reminded me that she was in my place once and she knew how to play the psych eval game all too well. While it worked like a charm for her job, it sucked on my end.

I had to be honest, vulnerable, and raw with her. With some of the questions, I had to tear off my mask and show the hideous scars that lay beneath it.

She cringed at the memories of my conversion therapy. At times her mouth would twist into small grimaces or a tiny hint of rage sparked in her green eyes. Even small tears welled in her from some of the mentions of the physical torture I endured at the hands of Dr. Clermont. She couldn't believe my parents was aware of his unorthodox methods and consented to it anyway.

"Do you think your parents meant to hurt you by forcing you to attend these sessions?" She asked softly.

I was laying on the hospital bed, slow tears rolling down my cheeks. I'd never told anyone the details about Dr. Clermont and that God-forsaken camp until now. I knew it'd rip open old wounds and pour salt in them. But, I needed to get out of here. Not for myself, but for the three people who gave a damn about me.

"No," I admitted. "My parents are a lot of things, but they're not violent. They'd never want to hurt me. They just…they wanted to change me, and, in their minds, this was the only way to do so."

"Do you think the experience did change you? Sure, not in the way it was intended, but in other ways?"

"Yes. During sophomore year, after the summer of absolute hell and the other incident, I started some bad habits. I started drinking a lot at parties and hooking up with any other gay boy in my age bracket. My parents didn't know about my endeavors. But I reasoned that most parents aren't supposed to know about those things anyway. If I played my role in public, there was no reason for them to suspect anything."

"What about your mental health? Did you notice any drastic changes there?"

I shrugged. "I've always had anxiety issues. There has always been pressure to keep a perfect image, maintain perfect grades, be a perfect athlete – so I was used to feeling that way. I guess I just became more aware since the panic attacks came more often. I had to find better ways to cope with them."

"Did you ever think you were depressed?"

"No. I'm not sad. I'm not mad. If we're being completely honest, often I don't feel anything. It's like I'm a robot running on autopilot."

"Do you feel that way when you're with your brother? With your best friend? With your boyfriend?"

"When I'm in big groups with them: yes. But when it's just us: no."

"How do you feel, then? With you're with them one-on-one?"

"Happy."

"And how do you feel when you're alone?"

"It depends. Sometimes I'm content and productive. Other times I'm exhausted and emotionally drained."

"I see." She continued scribbling in her notebook. "How do you cope with your panic attacks?"

"Find a quiet place, close my eyes and count to ten. Forwards, then backwards. Take deep breaths with each number."

She looked up in surprise. "Did you come up with that yourself?"

"No. It's something one of my babysitters taught me when I was little. I can't remember exactly what happened, but I was upset and overstimulated, and she practiced that trick with me."

Dr. Guerra smiled. "She taught you a very good coping skill."

"Yeah." I glanced at the darkening sky through the window. "Are we almost done?"

"Sonic, I was thinking that you could sleep here for one more night. There's still some things we need to talk about."

"Like what?"

"We still haven't discussed what happened the other night."

I sighed. "One of my teammates is an asshole, and he's been at my neck since we were kids. This past year, he's been insinuating that I was gay. He thought I didn't show enough interest in the girls I dated. So, he gathered some evidence and sent it out to the whole school. Then, he called me a faggot in front of the entire cafeteria, and I beat the shit out of him."

"Oh," Dr. Guerra murmured.

"Needless to say, my parents weren't pleased with my secret being exposed to the rest of my teenage social pool. They wanted me to go back to conversion therapy. I refused. So, they kicked me out. They let me keep my car, brought me an apartment to live in, and gave me all the money from my savings and trust fund – like a fucking severance package. Like I was a disposable employee. To be fair, I guess I am. They have another son. Another prodigy to fulfill their perfect image. And they should because Manic is effortlessly perfect. He'll be fine, and he'll be the one to make them proud. And I'm happy that he'll be able to do that. Truly."

"Then why did you take the pills?"

"Because I didn't have any more weight to bear on my shoulders. My parents let me go. I was free from all their expectations. Which meant I could do whatever I wanted. And at that moment, I wanted to sleep. All I wanted was to go to sleep."

"But this time you didn't want to wake up."

I blinked my watery eyes. My unsaid answer waltzed through the silence.

"Are you glad that you did?"

I turned my head to look at her. "Were you?"

She smiled. "Yes. Because my fathers hugged me so tightly that I couldn't breathe. Because my best friend threw her arms around me and cried happy tears into my shoulder. Because my now-husband simultaneously cursed me out and confessed his budding feelings for me. Those little moments, though I remember being annoyed during them, helped me appreciate being alive – being able to experience their love."

I glanced at the darkening sky again. "It's getting late," I stated. "You should be getting home to your family."

Sighing, she stood from her seat. "My exit doesn't mean this conversation is over."

"Have a good night, Dr. Guerra."

She shook her head. "Goodnight, Sonic. I'll see you in the morning."

Sleeping was a chore that night. Reopening the mental wounds brought back the nightmares and chills that the sleeping pills were originally prescribed to ease. Each time my mind drifted off, horrific images and harsh words would rush to the forefront. No matter how fast I tried to run away, they always managed to catch up.

Eventually, I gave up on sleeping. I stared at the white ceiling for a few hours, taming my thoughts and pushing them down into the deepest depths of my consciousness. All I wanted was a few hours of peace and quiet. I needed some time to mentally prepare to face the mess I'd left behind.

Somewhere between my staring, I must've fallen asleep. The creaking door announcing Dr. Guerra's arrival woke me up.

"Good morning," she greeted. She held out an identical brown bag from yesterday. "I brought you breakfast."

I rubbed my heavy eyes with one hand and pushed myself up with the other. "Thank you."

She offered a small smile. "How are you feeling today?"

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess." I glanced up at the clock. "When can I leave?"

"When we're finished our conversation."

I resisted the urge to groan and roll my eyes. What more did this lady want from me? I'd shared more than enough of my wounds for her to examine. She could easily slap on a mental diagnosis with a prescription for anti-depressants and mandatory therapy sessions – and then send me home. It'd be much simpler that way.

Dr. Guerra, despite my calm silence, sensed my irritation. "I need to make sure you're not a threat to yourself before I can discharge you."

"I'm not going to hurt myself again," I promised.

"What are you going to do when you leave?"

"Go back to the apartment. Take a shower. Then, I need to pick up my little brother from school."

"And tomorrow?"

"Go back to school. I need to gather whatever missing assignments have been accumulating since I've been out. I'll probably spend all weekend working on it."

She tilted her head. "What will you do once you're finished all of that work?"

"Sleep, probably – because I'll be exhausted." I sighed. "And no, I'm not going to take the sleeping pills again. At that point, I'm not going to need them."

I waited a few moments for another question, preparing quick answers on my tongue. But, Dr. Guerra didn't say anything else.

I reluctantly turned my gaze towards her.

She was staring at me with a small frown and curious eyes. "How do you do that?" she asked quietly.

"Do what?"

"Pretend you're able to move on as if this incident didn't happen."

"If you're about to tell me it's not healthy: I know, and I don't care."

She shook her head. "Sonic, I'm worried that if you keep this up, the next time those emotions get ahold of you – "

"They'll kill me?" I finished. I looked down at my untouched sandwich. "Third time's the charm, right?"

Dr. Guerra opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly at a loss for words. "Sonic, I sincerely hope you don't think I'm going to discharge you now, do you?"

"Look, Dr. Guerra, you and I both know the hospital isn't going to keep me here longer than they need to. I'm not voluntarily checking myself into a psych ward nor do I have any guardians to force me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm free to go once they need this bed. I bet they already gave you my discharge papers."

My therapist stared at me for a long minute, an incredulous expression pasted on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"Unfortunately, no," she replied quietly. "In the eyes of the hospital, you're being released on your own recognizance. But, I don't think it's the best decision considering the words that just left your mouth."

"Right now, I'm fine," I insisted. "You don't have to worry about me walking out and ending up back here within the next 24 hours."

"How do I know that?"

"Because I want to see my little brother. That's more than enough to keep me from doing anything stupid for a little while."

"Fine." She whipped her business card out of her pocket. "But, you're coming to see me for a session. Next Saturday. 11 o' clock. Promise you'll be there."

"I promise," I stated, taking the card from her hand. "Thank you."

She offered a soft smile. "You're welcome. I'll see you next week, alright?"

"Okay."

In her absence, the weight of my actions fell on my shoulders. My body still felt heavy and sore from the medication. My head ached from the intrusive thoughts drilling into my brain. My heart sunk at the thought of the upcoming conversations with my loved ones. The need to sleep for the rest of eternity returned in an instant.

Thankfully, it was still early enough that I could grab a few hours of alone time.

I caught an Uber back to my quiet apartment. I dragged myself into the shower, ignoring the empty pill bottle on the floor.

Somewhere in the midst of my shower, I lost track of reality again. One moment, I clearly remembered washing my arms down with a lufa. The next, I was sitting on the shower floor with the water pouring over me like rain. The chill of the droplets broke me out of my trance.

Blinking, I reluctantly returned to the present. I turned off the cold water and dried myself off.

Freshly dressed in a clean pair of sweats and tee shirt, I climbed into the large bed. The sheets were cold, and the bed was firm. I was the first body to ever occupy it.

How long had this furniture been sitting here, waiting for me? Since the summer after freshman year? Since the beginning of this year? Was it meant to be a gift once I started my first semester at Howard? Or had this always been the plan for when I finally stepped too far out of line?

I tried to hold onto the thought that the apartment was bought with good intentions. I could imagine my father driving through the streets with a small smile and refusal to tell me where we were going. I could feel my mother's hands on my wrists, holding my hands up over my eyes as we approached the apartment door. I could hear Manic's screams of excitement as they unveiled this new space to call my own. It'd be a celebration of a new beginning – one that my family would be proud of.

It'd be a warm, fuzzy feeling that I'd never know.

I rolled over and pressed my face into a pillow. I didn't want to lament. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to do anything. All I wanted was to lay here and pretend I didn't exist for a few hours.

When the time came for me to pick Manic up, I hauled myself out of the bed and drove down to the school.

Some of the classes had already been dismissed. Kids ran wild around the courtyard, climbing on the playground or darting towards their parents' cars. The gentle wind carried their infectious laughter through the air.

The school doors opened again, and another wave of kids flooded down the stone steps.

Manic caught my eye immediately. He hung back behind the group of kids, walking slowly with a frown plastered on his lips. He watched his classmates eagerly reunite with their parents, his chest visibly rising and falling from his deep sigh. His eyes fell to the ground as he descended the stone steps.

I noticed his babysitter standing near the sidewalk on the other side of the courtyard, patiently waiting with an sympathetic smile.

My brother didn't even look up as he walked towards her direction.

"Hey, Spiderman," I yelled. "Your ride's over here!"

Manic's head snapped up at the sound of my voice. He whipped his gaze in my direction. A smile erupted across his face, and his brown eyes lit up with joy. "Sonic!" He exclaimed. He turned on his heel and raced towards me.

I bent down to his height, opening my arms.

He leaped onto me, latching his little arms around my neck. He squeezed so tight that he damn near cut off my air supply. "You're back" he whispered into my shoulder.

"Yeah," I whispered as I returned the hug. "I'm back."

"Where did you go? Why did you leave? How come you didn't –"

"Manic," his babysitter's voice saved me from hearing the rest of his question. She stood by us with her arms crossed. "Come on. I need to take you home."

"No. I want to go with Sonic."

"But, your parents said you're not allowed to…" her voice trailed off as she glanced at me.

"What? They're forbidding me from seeing him?" I asked.

His babysitter shrugged her shoulders. "Kind of. Yeah."

I could've laughed. Of course, they'd try to cut me off from him. They wouldn't want me to corrupt their second chance at a perfect child. But they should know better. Manic was too attached to me. I'd been more of a parent to him than they ever were. He'd never let anyone erase me from his life – not without a fight.

"I'm going with Sonic," Manic said firmly. "I'll be home before my parents, anyway."

His babysitter frowned. From the bags under her eyes, no doubt from her other nannying job, I could tell she was too tired to argue. "Fine," she said. "Just have him home by 7."

Manic grabbed my hand and began tugging me towards my car.

"Thank you," I managed to say to his babysitter before Manic towed me away.

My little brother was uncannily silent during the ride to the ice cream shop.

I kept glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he was still breathing.

Each time I checked on him, his eyes were fixed on the world passing by outside.

I let him contemplate his pending questions in peace. After all, I did have to construct my own answers to them. Hopefully, they'd satisfy him, and he wouldn't be too upset with me. I'd already lost my parents – I couldn't lose my brother, too.

In the parlor, Manic stirred his spoon idly around the scoop of ice cream. He refused to meet my gaze, keeping his eyes strictly on the mountain of cookie dough ice cream.

"What's on your mind?" I asked.

"You left and didn't say goodbye," Manic said solemnly. "Again."

"I'm sorry, Manic. I wanted to say goodbye, but I didn't want to make you upset."

"Mom and dad said you left because you didn't want to be a part of our family anymore." He finally looked up at me, tears brimming his eyes. "Is that true, Sonic? You don't want to be my big brother anymore?"

"No, that's not true. I love you, and I love being your big brother. I'd never abandon you."

"I told them that, but then they said that you weren't a good person – that I shouldn't be around you. They said bad things would only come out of spending time with you."

My blood boiled underneath my skin. I should've known my parents would turn me into the villain. It was always my fault for not being good enough. For not being perfect. With me out the way, now they'd push that narrative of being unworthy onto Manic. I'd never wanted that for him. He deserved to be treated better.

"Do you believe that I'm a bad person?" I asked cautiously.

"No," Manic replied. "You're the best person in the whole world. That's why I was so worried. I knew there was something wrong. I knew you wouldn't just leave." He tilted his head. "What happened, Sonic?"

I sighed, trying to form an explanation he could comprehend. "Remember in some of your shows, the way that a girl has a crush on a boy or vice versa?"

He nodded.

"Well, I don't have crushes on girls. I have crushes on boys."

His eyebrows came together in confusion. "Okay."

"Well, mom and dad don't think I should have crushes on boys. They thought it was a problem that needed to be fixed. Do you remember the last summer that I went away for camp?"

"Yeah. Kind of. You came back different. You had a lot of nightmares, and you didn't smile as much."

"During that summer, mom and dad sent me off to fix my crush problem."

"But instead of fixing the problem, they only made things worse?"

"Yes. The problem wasn't fixed. I tried to pretend it was, but it…it wasn't."

"So, you still have crushes on boys?"

"Yes."

"And mom and dad don't like that?"

"Yes."

"So, you left because of what they think?"

"No, no. I didn't want to leave. I…I had to leave. Our parents…they didn't want me under their roof anymore."

"Oh," he said quietly. His brows came together again. "Why? What's wrong with having crushes on boys?"

"Nothing," I explained. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with having crushes on boys."

"But, you won't live with us anymore?"

"Unfortunately, not."

"Then, where will you live?"

"I have an apartment closer to the city. I'll live there for now."

"Can I come live with you?"

I almost smiled. "Nah, buddy. You'll have to stay with our parents for now. If we can bribe Mrs. Doubtfire, then maybe you can spend the night on the weekends."

A tiny smile finally graced his lips. "Okay." He paused. "Wait, if you have crushes on boys, then who do you have a crush on?"

I chuckled at the curious gleam in his eyes. "Well, I don't have a crush. I'm dating someone, and my feelings have moved past the crush stage."

"Who are you dating?"

"Shadow," I answered.

"Oh! Is that why you smile so much when he's around?"

A genuine laugh escaped my lips. "I guess so."

"Wait, if you're passed the crush stage, then does that mean you love him?"

I raised an eyebrow, honestly taken aback by his question. "What do you know about love?"

Manic smiled. "Well, I love you!" He paused. "And that's what the couples say in the movies and stuff – that they love each other." His eyes lit up with another question. "Are you guys gonna get married?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you do, can I be your best man?"

"Manic, you're going to be my best man no matter who I marry."

He beamed. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."

He hopped out of his seat and ran around the table. His little arms wrapped around my torso, squeezing with all his might. "Can you promise that you won't disappear again?"

"Yeah," I whispered, holding him close. "I promise."

Dropping Manic off was more difficult than I expected. He sat in the backseat for a long while, babbling about any little topic he could think of. Even when he ran out of things to say, he still didn't touch his seatbelt buckle. Instead, he stared at the house with a small frown and tears brimming his eyes.

"Do you really have to leave?" He asked quietly.

"Unfortunately." I finally opened my car door. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

His grip was tight on my hand as we walked to the front door. He kept his head down, staring at his sneakers.

On the porch, I bent down to his height. Placing my hand under his chin, I lifted his head up. Needles stabbed behind my eyes at the sight of the tears falling down his face. I blinked to prevent the water droplets they summoned. Gently, I placed my hands on his shoulders. "I don't want you to be sad," I said. "I'm still going to pick you up from school and help you with your homework and hang out with you. None of that is going to change. Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay." He threw his arms around me and buried his damp face into my shoulder.

I hugged him tight, soaking up the love he was offering. The warmth in the pit of my stomach chased away some of the demons still lingering in the back of my head.

At least for a moment.

The fire in my core blew out at the crack of the door opening. My father stood in the doorway; his broad figure outlined by the indoor light behind him.

"Manic," he commanded, his voice hard. "Come inside, now."

Manic reluctantly let me go. His head sunk back down as he shuffled into the house.

"Next time you take him without permission, I'm calling the cops," my father said.

"And tell them what?" I challenged. "That his big brother took him out for ice cream? You and mom may have disowned me, but he hasn't."

"We are doing what's best for him."

I scoffed. "Oh yeah? The same way you did what was best for me? But instead of torture camp, you're going to take away the only person who gives a damn about him? Sounds like a mighty fine plan to mess his head up."

He glared at me. "You need to leave. Now."

"I am. Just know that I'll be taking him whenever I want." I backed away from the porch, turning my back on him. "It's not like you'll notice he's gone, anyway."