As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me. And again, special thanks to Sunny for all your help! What would I do without you?

Kirsten stormed out the room in a rage, her blood boiling. She slammed the door behind her for effect. How dare she? How dare she blame her mom? She had her faults, but her mom was a good person. She'd had a good childhood. She'd had everything she always wanted. How dare she question that?

She flew down the corridor, recklessly knocking into people she passed. Her whole body was shaking with anger and she couldn't feel her legs as she raced through the building. She reached her room and flung herself onto her bed, finally allowing the tears to fall.

Kirsten sobbed into the pillow – crying for her mom; crying for her dad; crying for the mistakes she had made; crying because she was alone. She buried her face into the soft cushion, trying to block out everything around her.

She heard her bedroom door open, creaking on the hinges, and she curled up tighter. She hated people to see her like this: at her weakest, her defences down.

A soft male voice broke into the silence. "Are you ok?"

Kirsten didn't answer, unable to speak through the tears that refused to stop falling.

"I guess that's a no," his voice was uncertain. "Is there anything I can do?"

She recognised his voice, but she couldn't place him. There weren't many male nurses around. A patient, maybe?

He cleared his throat, obviously unsure of what to say to this hysterical woman. The awkward silence didn't bother Kirsten – there was nothing he could say right now that could make her feel any better.

"Maybe I should go and fetch a nurse…"

"No!" Kirsten stopped him, lifting her head. She squinted through her tears, waiting for her eyes to focus on his face. She recognised him from her group therapy sessions.

He paused in her doorway.

"I don't need to see a nurse," Kirsten said, her voice croaky through the tears.

"Rough session?" he asked.

Kirsten nodded despondently.

"Yeah, sometimes they know exactly which buttons to push," he said. "You're new, right? I've seen you in group therapy."

Kirsten nodded again.

"I'm Mark."

He offered his hand. Kirsten sat up wearily and shook it politely.

"Kirsten."

She sat hunched on the edge of the bed, her head dropped. She felt rude, not speaking, but the truth was she wasn't sure how to make conversation with him. She didn't know him. The only thing she knew they had in common was alcohol.

"Is this your family?"

Kirsten looked up to find him with her photo frame in his hands. "Yeah."

She paused, studying him for a moment. He looked sad as his eyes gazed over the photo.

"Do you have family?" Kirsten pried.

Mark shook his head. "No, not any more."

"What happened?"

The question escaped before she could take it back. She bit her lip, blushing at her intrusion.

"I'm sorry…I…I shouldn't have…" Kirsten stumbled over her words.

Mark simply smiled sadly. "It's ok. I…"

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Kirsten? Can I come in?"

Kirsten looked up to see Dr Halliwell stood at the door. She groaned inwardly, wondering what she was doing here, but nodded slowly, inviting her in.

"Mark, would you mind leaving us please?" Dr Halliwell asked.

"Sure," Mark said, standing the photo frame back in its place next to Kirsten's bed.

Kirsten smiled appreciatively as he left and he raised his hand, gesturing goodbye. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared out the door, before moving back to where Dr Halliwell was stood waiting.

"Can I sit down?" she asked.

Kirsten nodded silently again.

"It wasn't my intention to upset you," Dr Halliwell said, straight to the point. "But it was my intention to get a reaction from you."

"Why?" Kirsten asked, curious as to this process that she was being put through.

"I wanted to see how you really felt," Dr Halliwell answered truthfully.

"And the easiest way to do that was to rile me," Kirsten finished.

Dr Halliwell smiled apologetically. "Can we finish what we started?"

Kirsten wanted to object but there was something in the doctor's tone that told her that, even though it was phrased as a question, she had no choice. She didn't want to continue, too exhausted; her mind craving the comforting feeling she used to get after drinking half a bottle of vodka. Julia's words from her first morning in rehab came back to her:

"This is not a holiday camp – you're in rehab. It's not going to be easy, you're going to have bad days where you'll want to give up. It's up to you to find a way to keep going without reaching for a bottle, do you understand?"

Not going to be easy? That was an understatement.

Wearily, Kirsten pushed herself back on the bed, resting against the wall behind her and crossing her legs. Her hands reached for a pillow and she hugged it close against her body, a barrier between herself and Dr Halliwell.

Dr Halliwell shifted in her seat, making herself more comfortable, and her eyes focussed on Kirsten.

"I want us to keep talking about your mom. We were talking about you leaving home to go to college. You told me last week that your dad wasn't happy with your choice. What about your mom, what did she think of you going to Berkeley to study Art History?"

Kirsten took a deep breath before speaking, her eyes glancing one more time at the family photo that stood by her bed, drawing strength from it.

"My mom was always more supportive than my dad. She encouraged me to make my own decisions," Kirsten answered, a hint of hesitance in her voice.

Dr Halliwell looked questioningly at her. "But?"

"But, sometimes, I felt like she didn't like my choices, just like my dad," Kirsten said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it's just that sometimes…sometimes she would make comments about me not wanting her life; like her way of life wasn't good enough for me. I was seeing this guy, Jimmy, before I left, and my dad had tried to get him to propose to me. He didn't; we'd talked and we both knew it was over. But I think my mom wanted him to propose too – an excuse to keep me closer to home," Kirsten mused.

"How did you feel about your mom's way of life?"

"She was right. I didn't want her life. It was everything about her life that I was trying to escape from," Kirsten allowed herself to smile wryly. "But in the end, that's exactly the life got. The McMansion, the parties, the people, the drinking. I tried so hard not to turn into my mom, that it's like I didn't notice it happening."

"Do you think your mom was happy with her life?"

"Well, she drank, didn't she?" Kirsten said sardonically.

"Do you think maybe she resented your decisions? That she wished she had the chance to escape too?"

"But she chose that life," Kirsten argued.

"Just like you chose yours," Dr Halliwell interrupted. "But life doesn't always turn out the way you planned it, does it?"

Kirsten was silent. Dr Halliwell continued with her questions, preventing Kirsten from dwelling on her thoughts.

"What was your mom's reaction when she met Sandy?"

"She liked him. He charmed her," Kirsten answered, smiling genuinely this time. "She said that our differences were our strength. She always defended him against my dad, she never understood why he hated my choice so much. I mean, my mom and dad came from different backgrounds. My mom was a Newpsie through and through, but my dad had to work hard to build the reputation he had. She never understood why he was so disappointed. And then when he didn't come to our wedding…"

Kirsten trailed off, remembering the sound of her mom's voice as she screamed down the phone at her husband, calling him every name under the sun. He was a hypocrite; a bad father; a selfish son-of-a-bitch.

"Your mom was angry?"

Kirsten nodded. "Really angry. Hailey told me it took a long time for her to forgive him."

"You said you went travelling after the wedding. Did you speak to your mom much while you were away?"

Kirsten shook her head. "No, not really. I should have; I should have called or written more."

"Do you feel guilty about it now?"

"Yes. If I'd known that she was gonna die…" Kirsten dropped her head. "That sounds so bad, doesn't it? I mean, I should have kept in touch because I wanted to, right? Not because I felt obligated to."

"Is that how you felt? Obligated?"

"Yeah, I guess. Everything about my life in Newport has always been about obligations. People have expectations, it's hard to live up to those all the time," Kirsten frowned, hugging the pillow tighter. Her fingers played with the frayed edges of the cotton.

"Were you and your mom closer when Seth was born?"

"A little," Kirsten shrugged. "When he was first born, she helped me a lot. I mean, I was suddenly a mom myself, I had this little person who I had to look after and it frightened me. My mom understood that, she said that she'd been the same when I was born. She helped, you know, she answered my questions and she reassured me."

"What about when Seth was older?"

"I knew she was still drinking and I guess I wanted to protect Seth from that. I was weary about letting them spend too much time together. I was always finding excuses to stop her from spending time alone with him."

"Did she notice?"

"I don't know. She never said anything," Kirsten said. "It's not like she never saw him, I just always made sure that me or Sandy or my dad was around."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I felt guilty about it. And I felt angry; I should have been able to trust her with my son, and I couldn't," Kirsten cried.

"Did you ever tell her that?"

Kirsten shook her head. "We started to visit less. Sandy was working really hard so the weekends we preferred it to be just the three of us. Time seemed to go so fast and then all of a sudden she had cancer. That was more important than her drinking."

"How did you feel about moving back to Newport after so much time?"

"It was strange, at first. Nothing had changed, really. It was still the same people, the same lives, the same mindless gossip; but I'd changed. I was restless in the beginning. Sandy didn't come with us straight away, because of his job, and I missed him so much," Kirsten recalled.

"How did you feel about having to look after your mom?"

"It was hard. I was trying to look after Seth and my mom at the same time," Kirsten answered. "My mom hated being sick; she hated being weak and needing someone to look after her. She hated that it was me. She was so angry that I'd come home to help her, she always said that I had my own life to lead. But I wanted to help her, and my dad. Hailey needed me around too."

"Did you like to feel needed?"

Kirsten frowned. "No, not really. It was draining. Seth was only 6 years old and Hailey wasn't much help – she was 19 and pissed off at the world. My dad buried himself in work so he wasn't around much."

"Was you mom sick for a long time before she died?"

Kirsten shifted on the bed, wincing at the memories that were torturing her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of her mom – sick.

"About six months, I guess."

"That must have been hard, to see her so ill for such a long time?"

Kirsten blinked back tears, nodding her head. "Yeah," her voice wobbled as she spoke.

Dr Halliwell waited patiently for Kirsten to continue in her own time.

Kirsten cleared her throat. "She'd had a hysterectomy when they first found the tumour and they put her through a course of chemotherapy. It made her sick, like, physically. I would have to hold her hair out of her face…and then I started pulling out clumps in my hands as I held it. It scared me. I was scared I was hurting her. She changed too; her face changed. She got thinner and she looked so drawn and tired all the time. Sometimes I didn't even recognise her."

The tears started to fall down her pale cheeks but she didn't move to wipe them away. Instead, she let them fall onto the pillow, drawing her knees up to her chin. Her face glazed over as she lost herself in the memory, her eyes focussed on a tiny spot on the carpet.

"Towards the end she was having radiation therapy and that made her really tired all the time. She slept a lot then, and even when she was awake, she couldn't concentrate. It was like she wasn't my mom any more."

"Can you tell me about her death?"

Kirsten frowned, struggling with her words. "She, uh…she died on the 18th April 1994. I remember because they kept saying that there was going to be a big storm that night. There wasn't, by the way. It rained a lot, but there was no storm. You don't get many storms in Orange County."

"Kirsten, tell me about your mom," Dr Halliwell urged her gently.

"It started just like every other day. I mean, she was getting worse and the doctor told us that she was going to die soon, but I wasn't expecting it that day. I got up and Sandy was running late for work and Seth was bugging me about buying him a new comic book and dad was complaining about having to meet with some investors. I went up to see my mom, just like I always did, and there was something different. I can't explain it. It was like she had no energy left to fight any more. I stopped my dad from leaving and Sandy called the doctor. He said she wouldn't make it through the day. Hailey just started to cry and my dad went so quiet."

"And how did you feel?"

"I felt numb. It didn't feel real but at the same time, it hurt so much," Kirsten sobbed into her knees. "We spent most of the day by her bed, just waiting. It was horrible. We were just waiting for her to die. She was so out of it, we didn't even get to say a proper goodbye. I mean, we did but I'm not sure how much she understood. She died in the afternoon, it was 3.13pm. My dad was sat on one side, holding her hand, and I was sat on the other side. Hailey was sat on the bed by her feet. She just stopped breathing; just like that. There was no warning, she was just gone. I can still see her, so pale and still, and I don't want to remember her like that."

Kirsten dissolved into tears now, clinging to the pillow she held in her hands. She tried to push the image of her mom out of her head, but it plagued her thoughts. She felt the same pain that she had felt 11 years ago, as though she had just lost her mother all over again. Her chest felt tight and she struggled to breath, gasping for breath through her sobs. Her eyes started to sting from all the tears she was crying and she squeezed them closed. She curled up as tightly as possible, blocking out everything else around her. She was surprised when she felt a warm hand on her back and a soothing voice in her ear, telling her to breathe and stay calm. Dr Halliwell had crossed the room and was now sat next to her on the bed, showing uncharacteristic sympathy. Kirsten tried to respond, trying to take deeper breaths. Her hands rubbed her face, wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Dr Halliwell waited patiently for Kirsten to catch her breath, eventually calming down.

"It hurts," Kirsten spoke eventually.

"What hurts?"

"Everything. I miss them so much. I miss my husband and my kids; I miss my dad; I miss my mom," Kirsten said, her breath shaking as she spoke.

"It's ok to miss them. There are a lot of people here who can relate to how you're feeling. Maybe if you spoke to them, you'd find it easier to cope with," Dr Halliwell suggested. She had noticed that Kirsten was a loner amongst the patients and it surprised her.

Kirsten nodded.

"You're doing really well," Dr Halliwell commended her. "We're nearly finished for today."

"Nearly?" Kirsten sighed, half amused.

Dr Halliwell smiled gently. "Yes, nearly."

She stood up from the bed and resumed her seat opposite Kirsten.

"Tell me what you think about when you think about your mom."

Kirsten frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean when someone mentions your mom, what's the first thought or memory that comes into your head?"

Kirsten paused, a small smile creeping over her face. "I was about 7 or 8 years old. My mom was in the garden, planting flowers, and I was supposed to be inside at the table, but I sneaked upstairs into my mum's wardrobe. She found me about 20 minutes later, wearing her favourite shoes, which were too big for me, and her most expensive jewellery. My face was covered in smears of her make up. I thought she was going to go mad, but she just laughed. She picked me up and wiped my face clean; and then she showed me how to put it on properly. She did my hair too. I felt so glamorous."

"What do you think she would say to you if she was here now?"

Kirsten shuddered at the question. It was a question she had already asked herself. Would she be upset? Angry? Disappointed?

"I think she would feel guilty," Kirsten finally answered.

"Guilty?"

Kirsten shrugged. "If it were Seth or Ryan, I think I would feel guilty. It's bad enough that you put your children through it; no-one wants them have the same problems."

Dr Halliwell nodded, understanding her answer. "One last question, I promise: what do you miss most about your mom?"

"I just miss her being here; I miss being able to talk to her," Kirsten said sadly. "There are so many things I wish I could tell her about. Every time something happens, I wish she was here to see it."

"Like what?"

"Like Ryan. I wish she could have met him. I wonder about what she would have said when we took him in. I mean, my dad wasn't happy. He always thought that Ryan was just after our money, but he was so wrong. I wish he could have believed that before he died. Ryan's never asked for anything from us. Sometimes it's hard enough just to get him to let us buy him a new pair of shoes," Kirsten let out a small laugh. "I think my mom would have liked Ryan."

Kirsten fell quiet for a moment. "I just wish she was here."

Dr Halliwell waited before standing up. "I think we'll finish here. I know today has been hard for you, Kirsten, but you've made a lot of progress today."

Kirsten nodded, too tired to talk any more. Dr Halliwell left and Kirsten lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt fatigue running through her and she closed her eyes, letting the sleep take over, the memory of her mom laughing as she stumbled across the floor in four-inch heels replaying over and over in her mind. For the first time in a long time, Kirsten fell asleep with a smile on her face.