The door opened dramatically and in huffed the sullen, tight lipped blonde. She entered without a word, instead plopping down on her bed, reaching underneath for a pencil and sketchpad. She drew absent lines on the paper, nothing of any importance or significance. But it was something to do, perhaps the only thing she could do. The past 96 hours had been surreal. Her mind had been angrily reeling the entire hour or so drive it took to arrive at the treatment center. At least it didn't look like a psycho ward for loony bins. In fact, it was a rather nice establishment, that on the outside resembled more of a country club. The inside was nice as well, a welcome contrast to the normal smells and sights one would find in a hospital. Still to Peyton Sawyer looks could be very deceiving and it was what it was. She had been committed against her will by the people she trusted the most.

The first 24 hours had been non stop psychiatric evaluations from various staff members. Afterwards, she had been confined to the holding room, which resembled more of a jail cell. It was a small room with a single bed in the corner and not much else designed to detain involuntary admissions. She had waited for the results of the mental and emotional assessment to come back and when they had, the outcome at least for Peyton, had not been good. Dr. Pelsinger had refused to release her, even for outpatient therapy. And thus the battle for freedom had begun. She had been appointed an attorney who had gallantly escorted her to court to plead her side of the case. She was a regular 18 year old girl who had suffered through some rather traumatic life experiences. She was doing the best she could, sometimes stumbling along the way on that road to recovery. Overbearing and overzealous friends and family had crossed boundaries and the whole thing had been a very unnecessary misunderstanding. It was a good argument, but the judge was not buying it. The court order remained intact and Peyton had been released alright, right back into the custody of Dr. Henry Pelsinger and his facility.

She had been moved to another room that included a roommate and looked more like a hotel suite than a holding cell. None of it mattered though. It didn't change anything. Rebellion and defiance marked her stay. Hell would have to freeze over and thaw out five more times before she would cooperate. After all, they couldn't keep her there forever. Eventually they would see she did not pose a danger to herself or anyone else. Then they would have to let her go and leave her alone. Peyton had no idea what she would do or where she go but she knew exactly what she wouldn't do and where she wouldn't go. Returning to Tree Hill would not be an option and neither would contact with her supposed loved ones. Sighing heavily from her bed, she paid no attention to the young blonde sitting on the other bed just a few feet away.

"Peyton," came a voice and a knock at the door.

"What?" she muttered, not even bothering to look up.

It was Dinah, one of the staff counselors.

"Could I speak with you for a minute?"

"Sure. You can speak all you want. Doesn't mean I have to listen…or respond," she retorted.

Dinah, cleared her throat, ignoring Peyton's snide remark, used to insolence from the newer admits that did not want to be there.

"I was just stopping by to remind you that your group therapy session begins in 15 minutes."

"So…"

"So I was hoping that you would attend. It is part of your required schedule, besides, I was really looking forward to seeing you."

"Thanks but no thanks," a stubborn Peyton mumbled.

"And you had an individual session with Dr. Pelsinger earlier this morning. How did that go?"

Peyton shot her an icy glare.

"You know how it went. I showed up, he talked, I kept my mouth shut and it was over. Just the way I like it."

Dinah sighed.

"Dear, I understand your frustration but we are here to help you, believe it or not. I think if you participated every now and then, you'd see that it would really benefit you."

"Whatever."

"I see. That's your prerogative. If you choose not to come to group, I respect that."

"Close the door on your way out," Peyton instructed.

"Just one more thing…"

"What?" an exasperated Peyton snapped.

"You have a phone call. Someone named Lucas Scott is holding on the line to speak with you."

"Tell him I died."

"Peyton…"

"What?" the angry blonde looked right at her. "I don't care what you tell him but there's no way I am talking to him today or any other day. I won't go to the phone and you can't make me. You may as well tell him I'm dead because as far as I'm concerned, he's dead to me."

The door quietly closed and Peyton cursed to herself. He had some nerve. In fact, Lucas had no right. None of them did. They had done this to her, committed her against her will to some crazy farm. She didn't deserve to be there, she didn't want to be there and when she said she would never forgive them, she meant it.

"Refusing to speak to the family, huh?"

Peyton looked over at the petite and pretty blonde sitting on the opposite bed.

"That's none of your business."

"No, it's not, I guess. Just an observation. You're Peyton, right?"

"Yeah."

"Sydney Preston. We're roommates so I figured I'd introduce myself."

"Don't bother."

Sydney chuckled.

"You're pissed off. I get that. Let me guess. Some emotional crisis made you all mental and your friends and family freaked and had you sent here as an involuntary admit, right?"

Peyton frowned.

"Who told you?"

"Nobody had to tell me anything. Actually, I saw it on the news. You're kind of famous, dude. But even if I hadn't have seen it, I would have figured it out. You hang around one of these places long enough and you get a sixth sense about things."

"How long have you been here?"

"This time? Almost a month."

"How many times have you been here?"

"Third time's a charm, or at least that's what they say. Anyway, this place isn't so bad."

"Speak for yourself."

"It could be a lot worse, trust me."

Peyton nervously tapped her pencil against her sketch pad.

"Did they do the same thing to you? Make you come here when you didn't want to."

"Not this time. I came on my own but yeah before they did. The first time I was ever here they brought me to this place kicking and screaming."

"Who? Your lame ass parents or your lame ass boyfriend or both?"

"None of the above. Yeah, my parents are pretty lame but I haven't seen them in like ten years. When I was five my dad took off and five years after that my mom turned me over to the state. I was a ward of the court and that's who sent me here."

"Why?"

"Why not? I was really screwed up. I knew it, I just didn't care. It was a suicide attempt, see?" she flashed horrifically scarred wrists. "A pretty bad one at that but whatever."

Peyton swallowed hard, trying not to think about her own self inflicted wounds.

"What about now? You tried to kill yourself again?"

Sydney shook her head.

"I have an eating disorder. I binge eat and then I throw it up. Been doing it for years."

"You look okay to me," Peyton said out loud.

When she thought of severe bulimics she thought of grotesquely skinny girls with their ribs poking out. Sydney was thin but she did look healthy.

"Yeah, I got help for it and for a while it was pretty much under control but I had a couple of relapses. Anyway, I'm almost at my goal weight but the bulimia is catching up with me. It kind of destroys your body after a while. It really messed with my electrolytes and stuff. My potassium got so low it could have killed me. I'm 5'7'' and I was down to like 87 pounds not too long ago."

"Oh my God."

"Pretty scary, you should have seen me. I looked like the freaking Crypt Keeper but the whole time I actually thought I was fat. I weigh about 120 now and I haven't puked since I've been here. A few more therapy sessions and maybe Dr. Pelsinger will release me."

"Good luck," Peyton rolled her eyes. "I think keeping people prisoner is sort of his thing."

"It's not like that. He's a good guy and a good doctor. He just wants to help."

"If he helped you, that's great but I don't need his help."

"You could talk to him."

"For what? I have nothing to say."

Sydney shrugged.

"You could tell him about your nightmares."

Peyton's head spun around.

"What did you say?"

"Dude, I sleep right next to you. You moan and cry and scream in your sleep. I can't help but hear it. Anyway, it sounds pretty scary. Maybe he could help you. Maybe if you talked about it…"

"No!"

"Talking about stuff gets it out there, it gets your feelings out so you can deal with it."

"Talking about stuff makes it happen."

"You mean that Derek guy?"

Peyton bit at her lip.

"What do you know about it?"

"I know what I saw on the news. I know one of your friends turned out to be a psycho and kidnapped you and stuff. Your dad and your boyfriend had to rescue you."

"Shit happens. It's over now."

"Is it? Because it doesn't sound like it. It sounds like you're pretty messed up still. I mean, I don't blame you. What happened sucks but you still have to face it. That must be pretty scary but at least you don't have to face it alone. There are people here and that Lucas guy that just called? He's your boyfriend, right?"

"Ex. It's over."

"Too bad. Sounds like a good guy."

"He's too good. He thinks he knows everything but he doesn't. Anyway, this is all his fault. Obviously I can't trust him so why be with someone you can't trust?"

"It is your business but I think you've got it all wrong. Yeah, our problems are different but in the end when it is something that is eating at you, hurting you, and destroying your life, it's all kind of the same. I used to be like you. I was so mad I couldn't see straight. But being angry all the time doesn't solve anything. Look, I don't know exactly what's going on inside your head but it seems pretty screwed up. You keep saying it's gonna be okay, it's gonna get better and that you can do it on your own. Think about it, Peyton. Has any of that happened yet? No. So my thing is, don't knock it until you try it. I mean, you've got nothing to lose."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Maybe so and I will leave you alone just promise me you'll think about what I said. It's not coming from some fancy doctor or some after school special. It's coming from someone who's kind of been where you are now…lonely, angry, confused and afraid. And whatever happens, just don't turn your back on the people that love you like your friends and your dad and Lucas. Hell, at least you've got people that care. Some of us don't even have that. And some of us would do anything to get better and it's like we still can't but you have a shot, Peyton. Don't walk away from all that. Don't let your fear get the best of you. Don't let him get the best of you. You don't have to be afraid anymore, Fear is just a four letter word."

With that, Sydney stopped talking and put her earphones back on, leaving Peyton all alone with her sketchpad and a lot to think about. Taking a deep breath, she lay down, back to Sydney as tears trickled down her face. Never had she felt so alone or so frightened. Nobody understood, how could they? How would they know how it felt like to lose two moms? To always have your father gone? To be depressed? To be an outcast? To be called a dyke and have to deal with harassment and backlash? To lose friend after friend, loved one after loved one? To be trapped in a school, terrified out of your mind, bleeding to death with a mad gunman on the loose? To be kidnapped, beat, raped and tortured by someone you thought you could trust? How would anyone who went through all that open up and deal with it? How could anyone understand?