Dr Darmody smiled politely at Ginny, who shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with her fingers. In a stroke of luck, Dr Darmody had a cancellation that day, and the handful of clients on the wait-list hadn't responded. A wardrobe change and a short ride-share later, and Ginny was plopping onto Dr Darmody's couch, squaring off against him while he prepared a notepad.

'So, Ginny,' he began. 'How are you?'

'Good,' Ginny replied automatically. 'You?'

'I'm good.' He tilted his head a little as he looked at her. 'What can I do for you?' he prompted.

'...I don't know,' Ginny said honestly.

Dr Darmody smiled.

'Well, let's start with what prompted your call today, and general concerns. And then we can try discuss goals – what you want to get out of therapy.'

Seemed simple enough. Ginny opened her mouth, but paused, not sure how to start. And not sure how to open up to a complete stranger.

'I think,' Ginny said, taking a deep breath, and continuing uncertainly, 'that I'm having more trouble than I should be.'

'Okay. In what way?'

A series of images flashed in Ginny's mind: Georgia slapping her, Paul at the dinner table, blood on her thigh, her Dad riding away on a motorcycle, Hunter's impassive face as he rolled past in a police cruiser.

'Um.'

The extent of issues coming to her mind seemed so excessive that Ginny laughed.

'How much time you got?' she joked.

'Just under an hour,' Dr Darmody quipped back with a grin, making an exaggerated glance at his watch.

Ginny smiled back, but then her face fell as she grew serious.

'I hurt myself,' she said bluntly. She blinked uncomfortably, uttering this fact for the first time ever to another person. But Dr Darmody showed no reaction, other than to nod in encouragement. 'Sometimes...I get these feelings. Like they're gonna explode out of my – my eyes...my teeth...'

Dr Darmody made a brief note, his pen scratching.

'And then I burn myself. It concentrates it, like a release. And then I feel better. But today it changed. I – I cut myself, and I kind of...punished myself.'

Another pen scratch – slightly longer.

'Why did it change, do you think? Did something trigger it?'

Ginny pursed her lips.

'Just some friend drama at school. And I wanted to burn myself, but my lighter was at home. I found a safety pin…' Ginny trailed off, her cheeks growing hot with the dull burn of shame, and remembering the viciousness she'd attacked her own skin with.

It suddenly felt very weak to have cut herself, like a fundamental flaw in her person.

'How long have you been self-harming for?'

Ginny looked off to the side as she cast her mind back, and then frowned.

'Er, like 4 years or so?'

Dr Darmody's eyebrows tweaked ever so slightly.

'You're 16, yes?'

'Yeah…turned 16 just the other day'

'Okay. Do you remember what happened the first time?'

Ginny's face stilled.

...

Ginny was 11, and absolutely delighted that her father Zion was staying with her mom and Austin in between trips. Mom wouldn't accept Ginny's grandparents offering of a stipend for Dad's contribution to the bills. Barely making ends meet as it was, there was less food on the table, but more smiles and infinite hugs with her dad, the giant. Ginny was too big for Magic Carpet Ride, but not too big for piggy backs. Mom sang in the kitchen loudly to the radio. Ginny had grown-up big-sister time with Austin while Mom and Dad squirrelled themselves away in mom's bedroom. Ginny was riding the motorbike on her dad's lap slowly up and down the street, then by herself with Dad running along side, whooping and yelling encouragement. Laughing so hard her stomach hurt, splayed out on the apartment floor. It had been a paradise, cherishing their undoubtedly brief time before Dad went off on his next adventure that he couldn't bring Ginny on, waiting for the next time Ginny could accompany him .

Mom and Dad were arguing again. Raised voices. Ginny was hiding with Austin in his bed at the sound of hands smacking on bench-tops and doors slamming. Mom's expression set in a hard line as she washed dishes, resolutely not looking behind her as Dad pulled his things together. "I'm sorry, gummy bear" whispered to her one night, with a brief and gentle hand brushing through her hair, and then Dad retreated out the door and off on his motorbike, the rear light sliding away while Ginny clutched his lighter at the side of the road, tears blossoming.

Mom barely uttered a word the entire following week. Ginny was playing with her dad's lighter, missing him, and suddenly had the idea to glance her fingertips through the flames. She was quick to pick a prime location of skin to keep her secret hidden. Ginny quietly sobbed in her room as she lashed her thigh with fire when, two days after Dad's departure, Mom drank a bottle of wine for early dinner and excused herself for bed by 5pm, leaving Ginny to bathe and feed Austin.

Packing her life into well-used boxes, and staring out the back of the car at the umpteenth "You are now leaving…" town sign, preparing for the next time Mom would move due to a man.

...

'My parents broke up. Again,' she added resentfully. 'For like the tenth time.'

Ginny cleared her throat, which was suddenly stuck. Dr Darmody was looking at her sympathetically. Ginny laughed and sniffled, shaking her head and waving her hands dismissively. She shrugged.

'Parents don't always stay together, right?'

'No,' Dr Darmody agreed, and went on, 'So, the burning is a coping mechanism for getting through overwhelming feelings.'

'I guess.'

'And what sort of feelings are you struggling with?'

'Um…' Ginny had never really thought about that. 'I guess mostly when I feel sad, or angry. Ashamed.'

'Can you elaborate on that?' Dr Darmody asked in interest.

'I dunno. Like – when someone makes a bit of an issue of the fact that I'm black, but I dressed up as Britney Spears for Halloween.' Ginny threw up frustrated hands. 'As if black people can't dress as Britney Spears. Or maybe we can't? I wouldn't know!'

'Or this guy in my friend group, Press, was like unnecessarily mean when we had a party this one time. I was literally only talking about A Star Is Born and it just makes me feel like I can't really be myself, you know?'

Ginny's voice was slowly getting louder.

'Sometimes Dad is meant to visit, and then he cancels because he gets a sudden opportunity that he can't pass up. Or when mom started dating a new guy immediately after moving to town, when she promised she wouldn't. Or when she wouldn't let Austin come to therapy after stabbing someone. Or when she married Kenny and tried to absorb our lives into his, and we stopped doing shit like eating pizza. Who doesn't eat pizza?'

'Oh! And there was that time I went on a date with Hunter and she was all weird about it when I got back. And now she doesn't even know that I'm dating Marcus, because she freaked out when she thought I liked him – "Because I'm her",' Ginny mocked with a nasty face and a silly voice. 'Like I'd let myself get pregnant. She forced me on the pill anyway.'

'And don't even get me started on her whole secret identity thing and the slapping thing. I just – want – a normal – mom.'

Ginny folded her arms across her chest stubbornly and leaned back against the couch, sulking. She realised she'd gone off-topic, and sighed angrily.

'I'm picking up on some anger at your mom.'

There was a wry twinkle in Dr Darmody's eye, so Ginny bit back a snarky response.

'Yeah.'

'Do you still think your mom won't come to therapy?'

'No way,' Ginny snorted.

'That's disappointing.'

Dr Darmody appeared to be making some dot points on his note pad.

'Okay, Ginny, so I can tell you based on what you said there alone, we would really need at least ten sessions to make any real kind of progress for you, I feel. So, I think we should try think of some goals, and since your mom's not supporting you, see what we can do payment-wise to make this more accessible – if you're happy to come again.'

'...You won't just…' Ginny shrugged, 'give me some kind of pill to keep my feelings in check?'

'I don't think that would help you. Numbing your feelings won't take away the situations that you're in.'

Ginny chewed on her lip a little, resenting that truth.

'I think that something called cognitive behavioral therapy might help you to assess and manage your emotions, and that's what I would be taking you through. So let's start on some goals…'

He looked at Ginny expectantly, who gazed back.

'Um...get my mom to stop being...so much like my mom?'

Dr Darmody looked at Ginny kindly.

'Unfortunately your therapy isn't for other people. You won't learn how to help your mom, but hopefully you'll learn how to help yourself. Try think of something for you.'

'I guess it'd be nice to be less angry.'

'Okay,' said Dr Darmody, and he began to write.

'But everyone's always making me angry,' Ginny continued in confusion. 'How can I make myself less angry without changing other people?'

'I hear what you're saying,' Dr Darmody said gently, 'but you can't control other peoples' actions and feelings. Just your own.'

Ginny began to scowl.

'What, so everybody else just gets to keep doing what they're doing?'

'Yes, essentially,' Dr Darmody said quietly, and he kept eye contact with Ginny. 'Therapy can be about your relationships and any issues you're having within them, and sometimes the best course of action is to remove yourself from a relationship, but ultimately therapy is about you.'

Ginny blinked and looked away, a lump in her throat.

'What's bothered you about that?' Dr Darmody prodded.

'Uh,' Ginny said thickly. 'Just made me think of a mistake I made.'

'Mm?'

Ginny stared back at him, reticent.

'This is what you're here for,' he reminded her.

'...That guy Marcus, I mentioned? We're together, but I kissed another guy – that guy Hunter,' Ginny sighed, looking down at her knee, not wanting to risk seeing judgement pass across his face.

'Okay. What about that do you want to discuss?'

'I guess why I kissed him.'

'Okay.'

Ginny scratched at the fabric on her knee with one finger in silence, and then chanced a look at Dr Darmody. He was waiting politely. Ginny assumed that years working in therapy had made him a master of staring at someone without appearing impatient or rude.

'Marcus and I had had a fight,' Ginny relented after some time.

Dr Darmody nodded.

'And I got all weird, like I sometimes do, and I just really wished things were easy. Marcus really gets me. And I get him. But he doesn't fit with my friends, and my mom doesn't like him. And Marcus is...private...and doesn't really care about labels – which is fine, honestly – but Hunter is the complete opposite. And I could just see how easy it would be if I were with Hunter and not Marcus. And then I kissed him, and almost lost Marcus. Which would have been the worst thing ever.'

'You said you went weird?'

'Yeah,' Ginny said non-plussed, surprised that this was the section he'd focussed on.

'Weird how?'

Ginny exhaled forcefully. This was exhausting; it was remarkably taxing to open up. Ginny was ready for bed, and it was not even midday.

'Sometimes...and I don't know why...but sometimes something will happen, like this thing with me and Marcus,' Ginny skirted, as she would not be recounting that event, 'and I kind of end up out of my body?'

Dr Darmody looked expectant, so Ginny carried on.

'Like, instead of being in my body, I'm in...my mind? It's like I'm a pair of eyeballs and a brain and that's it.' Ginny pulled a face at the visual.

'Hmm,' said Dr Darmody. 'What caused this?'

Damn.

'Uh, my argument with Marcus.'

'What was the argument about?'

Double damn.

'Uh…' Ginny's heartbeat started increasing, and she swallowed uncomfortably, looking away from him. She curled her fingers inward on one hand, and dug her nails into her palm.

'Ginny…' Dr Darmody said gently. 'Please don't do that to yourself.'

He was looking at her hand. Ginny relaxed her hand in surprise.

'You didn't mention that,' he continued softly. 'So, burning, cutting – which is new, and also pressing your nails into your skin?'

Ginny blinked, and instinctively put her hand under her knee.

'Oh. I didn't...even think about that.'

'Are you okay?'

Ginny nodded.

'Sometimes in therapy we do have to discuss uncomfortable topics. But if you're not ready, or really don't want to, as long as you're not in danger or anything, we don't need to talk about them. If you want to stop, we can stop. I can give you my best recommendation, but you're the boss here.'

Ginny liked that.

A boss. In control. Autonomous.

Something she never was.

'Do you want to try talk about it?'

Ginny's stomach flipped at the thought of having to tell an almost complete stranger about Marcus' head between her thighs, and how that somehow made her think of her dead step-father. They'd already opened a few cans of worms that day – did she need to add another?

'Maybe next time?' she asked.

'That's fine. I feel like we have a lot to unpack, and we are starting to run out of time,' he glanced absently down at his watch. 'So let's nail down these goals. What about something regarding your self-harm?'

'...like stopping?'

'Yes.'

Ginny took an oddly strangled breath.

'But if I don't...I don't know what else to do. I do it because everything else hurts, just sitting there and existing. It hurts. It's the only thing that makes it stop.'

'I understand. Self-harm is a coping mechanism. But it's a harmful one. Your goal might be to exchange self-harm with a healthy coping mechanism.'

Dr Darmody then encouraged Ginny to pull out her phone, and explained about a variety of apps she could download to help her get over the urge. Distractions, and meditations. He briefly took her through something called 'box breathing'. He handed her worksheets with grids of boxes saying "What triggered the event?", "Feelings/Thoughts", "Actions" to be brought back for three events Ginny struggled with for Dr Darmody to discuss on their next visit. He recommended Ginny start a journal and try to log her emotions daily and their triggers, to try narrow down what bothered her most. They settled on the one goal for now – getting Ginny to stop hurting herself, and trialling alternative coping methods.

'...So therapy…has homework,' Ginny said dubiously.

Dr Darmody cracked a grin.

'Tragically, yes.'

They then outlined that Ginny would attend every fortnight to start off with, and review later if they needed to increase or decrease their sessions. He offered her a special discounted rate that Ginny was able to pay 50% of after she attended, and then the remaining 50% would be direct debited on their off-week. It still wasn't cheap, but with her shifts at Blue Farm Cafe she would just make it.

As Dr Darmody walked Ginny out the door, she thanked him profusely.

Ginny scheduled a ride-share, and resolutely decided to go back to school instead of home. Since therapy was all about getting through things, she figured she'd better go get through them.

o
o - o
o - o - o
o - o
o

Marcus caught up with Ginny at her locker, which was still red with a fuzzy SLUT written on it, as he travelled between classes.

'You stalking me, neighbor?' Ginny asked nonchalantly, as she put her backpack away, pretending she was not quietly seething again at the paint on her locker.

Marcus ignored her.

'Max said you left school.'

'You leave school all the time.'

'I know I do. But you don't.'

'We did just the other day.'

'Yes, I'm a bad influence. I feel like everybody has warned you of this.'

Ginny and Marcus grinned at each other. Then Marcus glanced at her locker.

'You good?'

Ginny sighed, exhausted from pouring out her soul in Dr Darmody's office.

'I don't wanna talk about it.'

'Okay,' Marcus shrugged. 'You're the boss.'

Ginny hid a smile. She was the boss for the second time that day.

'You're wearing a different shirt,' Marcus commented. 'And you've lost your coat.'

'Very observant,' said Ginny, thankful that Max hadn't passed on everything that happened to Marcus.

'Why?' he asked.

'What is this – an interview?'

Marcus put up a defensive gesture, and then slid his hands gently around Ginny's waist from behind. Ginny paused for a moment, as Marcus rested his chin on her shoulder, his hair tickling her ear. He was warm and solid; Ginny almost instantly relaxed. Marcus turned his mouth towards her ear.

'We've still got five minutes before the next class,' he whispered suggestively, kissing her softly on her neck.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

'Do you want to solidify my new reputation?'

'Ah,' Marcus intoned. 'I did not think of that.'

Ginny pulled out her English books, shut her locker and turned around, Marcus' arms falling away.

'That's because you weren't thinking with that,' and she tapped Marcus' forehead, and he grinned.

'Sure you don't just wanna ditch?'

Ginny gazed at her locker.

SLUT

'Nope. I'm the boss.'

'Yeah, you are,' Marcus said, raising his eyebrows, a strange smile on his face.

Marcus gave Ginny a lingering kiss, and then they parted. Ginny walked into English with her head held high, sitting down in her seat next to Max. Hunter was sitting on the desk in front of Max, chatting.

They both fell silent when Ginny turned up. Ginny stoically arranged her books, and then pulled out her phone. She opened up a new Note document entitled 'Feelings'.

First entry: Bad-ass.

'Hey, you're back,' said Max.

Ginny looked over with a neutral expression. Max looked borderline weepy, while Hunter was looking at the corner of the desk he was sitting on. Ginny was surprised he hadn't left as soon as Ginny arrived.

'I'm back,' Ginny agreed, keeping her voice intentionally level.

'We didn't think we'd see you again today,' said Hunter.

Ginny looked up at him, but Hunter kept staring at the desk.

'Neither did I,' Ginny said.

'I saved your jacket,' said Max. 'It's probably a goner, but you might as well try to fix it?'

'What about your shirt?' asked Hunter.

Now he made eye contact with Ginny. Ginny stared back, trying to read what Hunter knew or thought he'd seen on her shirt, but was taken aback by the concern in Hunter's expression and the underlying question – is she okay?

'...My shirt's okay…' Ginny said.

Hunter gazed at her for a moment, and then nodded.

'Good.'

Hunter went and sat at his own desk across the way without another word.

'Well, I'm glad you're back,' said Max. 'I know that whole thing is happening with you guys right now, but I am so stressed I have hives in really annoying places. It's not fun. And the thought of volunteering with EDCO – on top of homework, and school, and rehearsal – it's like, it makes me want to chop myself up into hamburger meat. I don't know if I can handle MANG drama on top of everything.' Max cradled her face in her hands, and pretended to sob.

Ginny blinked. Did Max still want to be her friend? Ginny's heart leapt, and she rushed to respond.

'Shit. You're so scheduled.'

'Not really. Just all the stuff you have to do for college. Which is pointless anyway since a psychology degree will be useless when the planet implodes in 30 years.'

'Stuff you have to do for college?'

'Volunteering in Peru, and winning a mock business proposal competition,' she said sardonically. 'Hunter did that,' she added.

Ginny felt a pinprick of fear, realising that Ginny had precisely nothing to contribute other than her grades.

'What extra-curriculars have you done?' she asked Max.

'Jesus,' Max said, eyes widening at the daunting question. 'Um, flute, French, piano, field hockey, basketball, soccer, tap, ballet, hip-hop, jazz, pottery, karate and theatre.'

The pinprick grew into a larger sensation of panic in Ginny's chest, and Ginny struggled to respond from the bottom of a hole, lofty education aspirations far, far above her. She did not feel so much like a boss anymore.

Mr Gitten entered, and announced to the class that they would be entering the National Junior Pulitzer Essay Contest – Where Do You Feel You Most Belong. Apparently perfect for college applications.

Gitten would select one person from their class to be submitted to the regional competition.

Ginny desperately wanted to be that person. She needed to be that person.

Ginny pulled out her phone discreetly and opened up her new Feelings note.

Second entry: Doomed.

o
o - o
o - o - o
o - o
o

Max bolted after class to get to rehearsal for Sing Sing, practically ditching Ginny's jacket, all rolled up in a ball, from her backpack at Ginny as she did. Ginny stuffed the jacket inside her bag, but slowly packed up her books, weighed down by her complete and utter lack of extra-curriculars. Ginny was never getting into a good college.

Where did she belong?

As if Ginny hadn't been asking herself that her whole life. Tall about a light essay topic. For a moment...she'd hoped it would be Wellsbury...

Ginny noticed Hunter was also slow in packing up his things, standing at his desk but bending over his backpack. Students were filtering out, Mr Gitten overseeing it – he looked at Ginny a little shrewdly. Seeing Hunter remaining as well though, Mr Gitten gave a brief nod and deemed it suitable for him to leave, clearly trusting Hunter with the responsibility of ensuring everybody left class. Ginny held back a scoff, not wanting to make her presence known.

Bur once they were alone, Hunter turned to face her.

Ginny stood uncertainly, ready for another verbal lashing. Hunter's face was impassive. After a few moments, Ginny had to look away, and tried to ignore that tickle in her mind that told her an urge to burn was locked and loaded, ready to fire. Ginny was the boss.

'Are you actually okay?' Hunter asked eventually, his voice even.

'Yeah,' Ginny said brightly. Perhaps a little too brightly. 'Just a little freaked about the essay – I've just found out I'm the most behind I could possibly be for extra-curriculars. So.'

Ginny could see Hunter measuring her response. Did he actually know that was blood on her shirt? Or did he just wonder?

'Are you okay?' Ginny asked before Hunter could delve any further into the spatter he'd seen on Ginny's shirt.

Hunter took a moment, his eyes growing shiny.

'You really hurt me,' he said bluntly. 'I don't know if I can be your friend.'

He almost sounded regretful.

Ginny could see the hole in the fabric of her friendships this would tear. Good bye Brodie, Jordan and Press. Well, Press wasn't such a loss. But MANG were part and parcel. Even if Max wanted to be her friend still, Ginny couldn't see how that would work.

And truthfully, Ginny would miss Hunter.

Ginny's mind became clouded with a type of tunnel-vision. Her surroundings somewhat disappeared, and she saw Hunter's mouth dropping its fatal blow over and over – "I don't know if I can be your friend".

Ginny looked down at her feet, almost surprised to see they were still there, as she felt like her legs had been knocked out from underneath her. Ginny dimly registered that her Feelings note was going to be overworked.

'That's fair,' she whispered. There was nowhere to go – no path around the understanding that this was Ginny's fault. Not seeing a purpose in standing there any longer, Ginny grabbed her things, cast a hopeless look at Hunter and quietly started to leave.

'Don't – don't you have anything to say?' Hunter said incredulously, standing rigidly at his desk.

Ginny turned back, defeated.

'Is there anything I could say?' she asked rhetorically, and then carried on after Hunter was silent. 'I can't un-kiss you. I can't un-fall in love with Marcus. I can't take back my fuck up.'

'What is wrong with you?' Hunter asked, sounding as if he actually wanted an answer.

'That's what I'd like to know,' Ginny remarked glibly.

'Do you like me, or don't you?' Hunter demanded. 'Because I – ' Hunter stopped talking suddenly, and stared at Ginny imploringly.

Ginny took a moment. Hunter's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Ginny was stabbed with the realisation of what she'd put him through. He looked at a total loss, and Ginny had been the one who ripped the rug out from under him.

'I wanted to like you,' Ginny said honestly.

Hunter blinked and looked away sullenly.

'You are a much better fit for me in a lot of ways. But I love Marcus. I tried to tell you, but I didn't. I'm sorry.'

Ginny received an alert on her phone, and glanced at it.

Dad: You loving your first fall in New England?

The foliage is outrageous

Ginny sighed. She was not in the mood for small talk about trees, and she looked back at Hunter. She just wanted the day to end, after a perpetual emotional rollercoaster of tears and graffiti. Hunter looked like his jaw had turned to stone. Fatigued, she pulled her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave, actively clamping down thoughts of her lighter.

'I won't be an option when you realise what he's like, I hope you know that.'

Ginny froze, and exhaled forcefully.

'You know,' she said, turning back around, a little bit of acid seeping into her tone, pinching the bridge of her nose and then flaring her hand out. 'People keep saying to me how much of a jerk Marcus is – but Press is like your best friend and he's a total and complete dick. So unless you're kicking him out, don't talk to me about Marcus.'

Hunter looked at Ginny sourly.

'Again, I'm sorry about all this,' Ginny said angrily. 'I'm just pissed off now.'

Hunter opened his mouth, but Ginny's phone dinged again.

Dad: It's a little cold though. Glad I packed my jacket

Ginny's internal rollercoaster took a massive up-swing.

He was here.

'I have to go,' she said, sprinting out the class and into the halls.

Ginny ran past berry tree, ignoring the faces of her former-friends as she dashed past, seeing her father Zion Miller sweep gracefully into her school. His eyes caught hers, and he smiled easily, hands out on his hips, all decked out in bike gear. Nothing could bother her now, all thoughts of burning skin and scorned friends behind her.

Ginny's face split into a wide grin, and happiness ballooned in her chest.

'Dad!'

'Hey!'

She dashed into his opens arms, and was swept up and spun – up, up and away. Ginny was 5 years old again, on Magic Carpet Ride. Every moment in her father's arms one of bliss, like gravity itself couldn't touch her. He was here.

Ginny was chosen.