Happy May 2/4 weekend to my (very few, as I've discovered) fellow Canadian readers! Hope you've got some fireworks as cool as I do wherever the heck you are! This chapter's a little more intense than some of the previous one's I've written. It really gives you an inside look at Lissa's inner thoughts (they're not all to happy .) Sorry if you always thought she was a total bitch and I'm doing a terrible job of portraying her. I used to think so, too, until I really tried to get inside of her, and I realized, "Hey, she's not all bad, just a little lonely and stuff…" So, anywho, enjoy the story ;)

Chapter Three

LPOV

Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday was therapy. My parents were severely strict (and a little crazy) about it, too. If they could have had it their way, I would have had a session on Sunday or Monday, too, because they were worried about me going two days straight without one. Personally, I didn't want to talk to anybody, mostly because I had nothing to talk to them about. I didn't have any problems, there was nothing wrong with me. But my parents "wouldn't have any of it." No matter who it came from.

Anyway, that's where I was now. In the therapy office, with my therapist, in complete silence.

Finally, Dr. Masterson (she always insisted I call her Candice, but I still called her Dr. Masterson in my head) cleared her throat. "So," she said, looking around the room awkwardly, "is there anything you want to talk about today, Lissa?"

"No," I said sourly. I hated being here. I didn't want to talk to anyone about anything.

"Lissa, do you remember why you started seeing me?"

"I didn't start seeing you," I corrected firmly. "My parents started sending me here. The only person seeing you for anything is my parents for their obsessive compulsive disorders."

Dr. Masterson sighed again. She did that a lot when I went there for my "sessions." She went on, despite the fact that I wasn't looking at her. "Anyway, do you remember why you're parents sent you here?"

"Because they think my head's going to suddenly implode after 'the incident with the school'." I said the last part sarcastically. "Oh, and they were freaking out because me and Nick kinda broke up, I guess." I looked sternly at Dr. Masterson. "That head-blowing-up thing? That's not going to happen, by the way."

"Yes, well, what happened to you with your school was very serious," Dr. Masterson said. "It was a rational decision for your parents to decide that perhaps you needed to talk to somebody."

"Against my will?" I demanded.

Again, Dr. Masterson sighed. "Lissa, nobody's trying to force you into anything."

"And that's why I have to see you three times every week for an hour," I muttered, sarcasm dripping from my every word. "All we ever do is sit and silence! I don't want to be here!" I stood up. "My parents are the only ones who have anything worth seeing you for. And let's face it! You just keep me here because they keep forking cash over to you! You're nothing but a phony whore who tortures people for money!"

"Lissa!" she shouted. I stormed over to the door and ran out. She shouted out the door after me, but I was already gone. I didn't know where I was going, but it wasn't back there, and it wasn't home.

For a while, I just ran and ran through streets, looking for something familiar. I'd eventually exhausted every part of my body. My legs felt like jell-o and refused to be walked on. Each breath I took was a hungry pant, and it burned in my chest and throat. I felt lost and alone. With my parents, who hardly ever had time for me, I had always felt alone. But this was a new kind of alone, which I had never experienced. This was the kind of alone that made you feel like you'd never be within arm's reach of another human being for the rest of your life and a day. The kind that made you feel like you were so lost, you could just as well have been stuck on Pluto, you'd be no closer to home. The kind that makes your throat feel tight and your eyes burn, until there's nothing left to do but just cry.

And that was exactly what I did.

I hope you won't think less of me because of it, or wonder if I'm just another posh heroine who depends on anyone and everyone in sight, and can make no decent decisions for herself. Of course, it's not like I'm displaying any proof that I can. Please keep in mind that I was exhausted, I was parched, and I didn't know where I could go. In fact, I realized quite soon that the only place I could go was farther away from where I was.

At this point, I was in the middle of nowhere. All around me, there was nothing but fields and pine forests. I continued walking, gasping between sobs. The road was nothing but dirt and small stones. I tripped over bumps and after a while had skinned virtually every part of my lower legs.

To keep going, I thought about my parents, and what lousy caretakers they had always been. I could take care of myself better than they could take care of me. Thank God I don't have any siblings, I thought idly. Only one human being has to suffer this way at their hands. Soon, I had forgotten how tired I was, and had nearly suppressed my thirst. Everything I'd felt was covered up by my determination to keep moving, whether or not I knew where I was going. After a while, I had nearly forgotten what I was walking away from. I was just too busy remembering to keep doing it.

But unfortunately, even determination of that degree can't last forever. I started to regain the feeling in my legs, and it wasn't a relief. They burned from all the strain they'd been put through, my throat was so dry I could hardly swallow, not that I needed to, because I was scarcely producing any saliva. Finally, there was nothing I could do but collapse to the ground. I could feel the hot summer sun beating down on my back. It wasn't very long before the merciful arms of sleep (or heat exhaustion, or death, it was hard to say at that point, and either way I didn't really care so long as it made me stop hurting) wrapped me in their tender, painless embrace and pulled me into their dark, mysterious depths.