Title: On Letting Go
Rating: M
Summary: Chloe Beale thought she was doing well enough to attend college, but her past kept creeping up from behind and haunting her. Thinking she's damaged goods, she refuses to talk about the incident that scarred her for life, until one Psychology major proves to her that she's worth helping.

A/N: I guess I'm continuing for a bit. Anyway, someone mentioned Prom Night. Yes, her backstory is a little bit of Prom Night-esque. A little deeper than that. But anyway, enjoy!


TRIGGER WARNING: Panic Attacks, PTSD, Night Terrors, Death; may not be suitable for some readers.

Chloe's eyes shoot open as she gasps for air, feeling something latched onto her sending her into an instant panic. She yanks away violently, pushing whatever it was off of her bed when she's met with the sound of an 'oof' as the body hits the floor. Her eyes go wide as she peeks over the side of the bed to see Beca on the ground, groaning loudly and rubbing the back of her head; the look of pain covering her face.

Chloe doesn't say a word, moving quickly off the bed and running into the bathroom. She tries to calm her breathing as she fumbles with the medicine cabinet, her shaky hands turning on the faucet. She manages to get the pill bottle open, dumping one into her hand before hastily throwing it in her mouth, using her hand to cup water to wash it down. She sighs heavily, grasping onto the edge of the sink as her breathing settles.

She didn't remember much of the previous night, but waking up with Beca's arms securely wrapped around her terrified her. What if she was someone else? What if it hadn't been Beca? Chloe feels bad that she threw her roommate on the ground, but she didn't know that it was her. She couldn't possibly know that Beca was going to stay there all night with her.

"You're okay. You're okay." Chloe breathes out as she shuts the medicine cabinet, thankful to see there's no one behind her. There's a faint knocking on the door and Chloe's eyes shift, her anxiety rising again.

"Chloe..." Beca's calming voice comes from behind the door and Chloe instantly feels guilty for throwing Beca off the bed. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving. If you need anything, I left you my number on your desk. Do not hesitate to call or text me."

Chloe goes to say something when she hears Beca's footsteps fade. She sighs, running her fingers through her hair as she exits the bathroom, hearing the dorm door close. She walks out to find her bed made, noticing the neon green piece of paper on her desk. She picks it up, reading Beca's phone number before setting it back down on her desk. Chloe turns to face the small closet next to her desk. She holds her breath as she grabs the knobs, slowly opening the doors.

"Nothing is in there... No one is in there."

/

Beca sits down at a small desk in the library, pulling out the piece of paper she snagged from the RA's dorm. She opens her laptop and opens up Google, typing in the name 'Chloe Beale' in the search bar. She felt guilty that she was technically invading her roommate's privacy, but she had to know what she was dealing with.

Beca was the daughter of Dr. Mitchell, a renowned therapist and psychiatrist at Hawthorne Mental Institute. She had always been fascinated by psychology, inspired by her father. While Beca didn't want to go through the medical training to become a psychiatrist, she was happy with becoming a psychologist and therapist. She wanted to help people, and let people who are struggling know they are worth helping. That's how she felt towards Chloe. She didn't know the girl, but the night terrors and panic attacks were enough to peak her interest.

Beca lets out a deep breath as she clicks the 'search' button, seeing results file through on her screen. The first result's title catches her attention, 'Nightmare Ends For High School Teenager'. Beca is weary, not knowing what she'd find if she clicked it. She debated once again if it was the right thing to do, her cursor hovering over the link. Should she invade her roommate's past without trying to ask her about it? Or should she get a better understanding of what she may be dealing with before she attempts to help?

Beca chooses the latter, clicking the link. The article loads and the first thing she sees is a picture of about a dozen police cars surrounding a small house, caution tape surrounding the perimeter.

What have I gotten myself into?

/

Chloe's fingers gently tap on her notebook as she tries to pay attention in her lecture. This was Chloe's first day of classes and she was anxiety ridden at best. Her medication was starting to settle in her body, easing her into a somewhat comfortable state, but it wasn't enough. She keeps her eyes glued on her professor, watching their every move as they talk at the podium. The words are flying past her, and she knows that she needs to focus, but she can't help it.

School was never a good option for Chloe, she knew that, especially after what happened in high school. But this was college, this was supposed to be different. Chloe knew she shouldn't think the same thing could happen here, but it didn't stop her from being overly cautious of everyone and everything.

She feels her phone buzz and she jumps, startled by the feeling. She scans the room and hopes no one saw her scare so easily, and luckily, everyone was too busy paying attention to the professor to notice. She taps the screen and it reveals a message from her Aunt.

From Aunt Laurel: Hey dear. Just checking in on you... Hope you're doing well. Call us later.

She quickly types out a response under the false pretense that she's okay, feeling the guilt and shame cloud her mind as she presses the send button.

She flips the pages of her blank notebook, finding the number Beca had left for her. She contemplates texting Beca, but she didn't really know what she'd gain from it. She wasn't going to make Beca put up with any more of her shit, she couldn't. She didn't want to be a burden on the brunette, and that's exactly what she felt like she was doing.

/

Beca slams her laptop shut, sighing loudly. She stared at the photograph on the article for 30 minutes, never scrolling down to actually read it. She couldn't bring herself to snoop on Chloe like that. Beca knew something awful had happened to the red head, the photo was proof enough. She shoves her laptop into her backpack, walking out of the library. She feels her phone vibrate on her back pocket, pulling it out and reading the notification on the screen.

From 7065552868: Uhm hi. I wanted to say sorry for throwing you off the bed earlier. I don't know what came over me.

Beca's brow furrows, knowing that it was Chloe had texted her. Whatever has happened in Chloe's past, Beca knew that it wasn't nothing like Chloe was playing it off as. Beca decides to text her back as she walks through the quad toward her dorm's parking lot.

To Chloe: it's totally okay. Didn't realize I fell asleep there so it's kind of my fault. I didn't mean to startle you.

Beca hops in her car as another message surfaced. She turns the engine over and let's her car warm up as she reads the text

From Chloe: no, I feel bad... It's not your fault, it's just that...

Beca sighs loudly, knowing that her roommate was avoiding telling her the real reason she had a panic attack. Beca was all too familiar with the symptoms, and with how Chloe reacted, she knew the redhead had suffered from sort of trauma. But she told herself she wouldn't pressure Chloe into telling her. She wanted Chloe to feel comfortable and safe with her, even though they didn't know each other.

Beca opts out of immediately texting Chloe back, instead putting her car in reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.

/

Chloe's finger hovers over her aunt's contact number for what seems like an eternity. She knows her aunt meant well from the text she had sent, but she's not sure if she's ready to talk about her first day at college. She wanted to make it seem like she was making progress even though she knew she was far from it.

She thought back to the previous night. Her roommate, Beca, had seemingly calmed her down just like that, and Chloe didn't know how to feel about that. Beca had stayed with her to make sure she was okay and Chloe had another panic attack. She was beginning to worry if Beca wondered about those, or thought she was damaged goods or something. Truth is, Chloe wasn't always this way. After the first incident, her panic attacks weren't nearly as bad. It wasn't until the second incident happened that they got worse. She didn't understand why. She was no longer in danger, and what happened had a ZERO percent chance of ever happening again.

Chloe thought it'd be easier the second time around, but it wasn't. She had talked about this with her therapist, thinking he may know why, but he told her that recovery takes time. It took her three years to somewhat recover from the first incident, and the most recent one happened a little over a year ago. She sort of understood, but the fear of him being around shouldn't be instilled in her anymore. He was dead and Chloe knew that. She remembers squeezing the trigger multiple times, his blood splattering all over her face and clothes. She could hear his last breath as he expired. She watched his body get cremated, as a form of closure. He was gone, so why did she still feel this way?

Chloe finally taps her aunt's number, putting the phone up to her ear as she hears it ring.

"Hey, bug." Aunt Laurel says sweetly through the receiver. "How was class?"

"It was... Okay."

"Chloe, what's wrong?" A worried voice rings through her ears.

Chloe sighs. "I thought I was over the panic attacks and night terrors... I was at the hospital..."

"Oh, bug," her aunt says sadly. "Recovery takes a long time. You're in a public place now and I'm sure your brain is just scaring you..."

"I... Yeah. I just don't want to be this jumpy and startled all the time. I know it's over, but I can't get over it. I can't let go."

"Have you talked to Dr. M-"

"No. I don't want to inconvenience him. He trusted me with this. He let me go." Chloe interrupts.

"But you need to talk to him and let him know. Maybe he can help you get over it like he did at the clinic."

"Aunt Laurel, I really don't think-"

"Look, honey. You've been through a lot of traumatizing events. You may never get over it, but you can move past it. You just need someone you can trust like And-"

"Don't bring him up... Please. It's my fault that he's gone..." Chloe can feel the tears well up in her eyes as she remembers what happened to Andrew.

"It's no one's fault but that monster's." Aunt Laurel tells her sternly. "It is not your fault, nothing that happened was."

Chloe sighs loudly as she tries to take her aunt's words in. She had been blaming herself constantly for what happened to Andrew and Taylor since the most recent incident. Her therapist and her aunt tell her over and over again that it's not her fault and yet, she can't believe them. If he hadn't become obsessed with her, they'd still be alive and Chloe's life would be easier.

"Will you please stop mentally blaming yourself, bug? I know you are. Listen to me, it is not your fault. You can meet new people, it won't hurt."

"I kind of did..." Chloe says, trying to lighten the mood. "My roommate seems nice."

"See? That's good. Maybe if you talk to someone about it, it'll get easier. Maybe not me or your therapist, but someone else. Maybe saying it to someone other than us and yourself will help your mind realize it's over and nothing can hurt you." Aunt Laurel suggests.

"And if she runs away? What if she doesn't want anything to do with me? What if I scare her off? I'm not well, Aunt Laurel. I'm just a burden."

"That's not for you to decide, sweetheart. Your uncle and I don't think you're a burden, we never have. People may surprise you. Not all of us are bad."

/

Beca walks into the tall gray building, flashing her ID at the security guard at the front, granting her access. She walks through the hallways, looking at all of the locked rooms and trying not to peer inside at the patients. She continues down the hall as she reaches the office she's looking for, pushing open the doors and noticing that it's empty.

She sighs loudly, setting her backpack on the ground and sitting behind the desk. A bunch of patient files were scattered across the desk, and Beca averts her eyes, landing on the tape recorder.

'CB 19'

Beca gently presses the play button, curiously.

"Can you tell me what happened after that?" Her father's voice floods the speaker.

"He tackled me and we fell through the window. I was still holding on to the gun from the Detective and I..." A somewhat familiar and shaky voice spoke, "I shot him. I kept shooting him until he was dead."

Beca's brow furrows as she listens to the recording, rewinding the tape to listen to the girl's voice again. It was a voice Beca hadn't heard much of, but the pain and fear laced through it was something Beca couldn't forget

"Chloe?" Beca whispers to herself as she listens once more to the last segment of the tape. The tape ends and Beca looks up as the sound of the door opening and closing startles her. "Dad..."

"Hey, Becs." Dr. Mitchell smiles. "You okay?"

"No, dad. We need to talk."

Dr. Mitchell looks down at Beca, noticing her finger was still touching the tape recorder. He inhales sharply, looking at his curious daughter.

"You're right, Beca. We do need to talk."


Cliffhangers are my favorite... Sorry.