****Trigger warning for: description of self-harming****

Cory couldn't stop his knee from shaking. He wasn't nervous, per say. He was just at a lost at this point. It had been a few since Ms. Habib had officially diagnosed Riley with persistent depressive disorder. Now…

"Cory."

"My brother!"

Eric and Shawn had arrived at the coffee shop at the same time. Shawn was the first to approach him to hug him while Eric gave him their usual fist bump.

"What's up little bro!?" Eric nearly squealed as he grabbed Cory's cup of coffee from the table. "Wow that is disgusting. You are turning into Feeney dude."

Cory shook his head and smiled, "Missed you too Eric."

Shawn only smiled at the older man's antic before he spoke to his best friend, "What's up Cor? You sounded nervous over the phone. Everything okay?" He asked studying Cory. His friend still looked nervous and slightly a bit pale.

"No, no really." Cory rubbed his face before sitting down between Shawn and Eric. "Do you guys remember the first few years after we came here?"

Eric made a pfft noise before laughing, "Course we do!" he took another sip of Cory's coffee before spitting it back out into the cup. "Why do I keep drinking this?!"

Cory sighed and signaled for a waitress to come over and ordered two lattes and another black coffee. "How bad was I?" Cory asked seriously looking at the two for a reaction.

Eric and Shawn shared a look, they both looked bewildered at the question. "Cor, you were another person."

"Actually you were barely a person." Eric corrected, the excitement in his voice gone now, "Gosh, it took like four hours just to get out of the bed." Eric shivered at the memories of his little brother having no energy to want to do anything a few weeks after arriving to New York.

It was a rough couple of years, Eric and Shawn did everything they could to hide Cory's issues from Topanga. Fortunately Cory also wanted to hide his issues from Topanga. His wife never knew that he could barely get out of the bed till 2 in the afternoon and that he was having issues with finding work or a major to take interest in. Hell, all of Cory's old hobbies no longer interested him. Eric and Shawn were thankful that Topanga was too stressed from attending law school and that Cory was a good actor.

"Why are we talking about this though? You snapped out of it." Shawn reminded him.

"Yeah, because of Riley. I only got better when I found out Topanga was pregnant." Cory explained simply, "I never really got helped, I just…I don't know." He rubbed his face.

Eric rubbed his back, "C'mon bro, what brought this up now?" He was concerned, things had immediately improved for his brother after Riley was born. Cory was a different person, a better husband, and an amazing father. He wasn't aware of Cory having anymore of his days of "funk".

"Riley." Cory answered, "She hasn't been the same for a while now so Topanga and I took her to see a therapist." He said slowly, rubbing his hands on his thighs as the words came out. He sounded like he was still trying to get his mind around it. "She was diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder."

Both men frowned at the diagnosis, "And what exactly is that?" Shawn asked unsure.

"It's a low level form of depression. It's also chronic." Cory explained.

Eric pulled a face of confusion and understanding. "Is she alright?"

"Are you two going to medicate her?" Shawn asked at the same time.

Cory pressed his lips together in annoyance. His mind flashing back to his arguments with Topanga over the issues of medicating, "Yeah, yeah. She's alright." He turned to Shawn and frowned, "And no, we're not medicating her! Why is everyone harping on that!?"

Shawn looked affronted, he put both his hands up in surrender. "I wasn't harping, just asking. It's not unusual for someone to be on medication when they are depressed, Cor."

"Yeah? Well, it's not needed." Cory snapped.

Eric and Shawn shared another look. "So…this isn't about Riley, this is about you guilt tripping over what? Passing your depression onto Riley?"

Cory buried his face into his hands, "I don't know what to do."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Riley knew she should be eating. But her appetite was gone, especially since she failed not only her second English assignment but her biology test as well. She was sitting alone in the bathroom again in the senior wing. Her blade pressed against her inner thigh.

She was doing well till she heard Lucas and Maya talk the day before.

Lucas was comforting Maya, who was upset about Riley ignoring her. "She's not a real friend then, Maya. Real friends don't do this." Lucas tried to comfort her.

Maya's voice sounded torn, "I don't know what I did. She's never done this before." Maya reasoned. Riley peeked from behind the corner to see Lucas pull Maya into a tight hug.

"She doesn't understand that she's lucky to have a friend like you. She's just being Riley."

Riley felt betrayed and cold all over. Why would Lucas say something like that? Did he think she was being mean? Selfish? Rude?

Maya sniffed, "Maybe I should try going to her place again?" Maya asked fulling away from the hug to wipe her face.

Lucas frowned, "Or maybe you should realize you have better friends."

Riley winced as she recalled Lucas's words, the blade ripping through her skin revealing little pockets of blood. She felt the itchiness subside, finally.

She sat through history class with the feeling of Zay and Farkle watching her as she ignored Maya and Lucas.

She wasn't ignoring Maya to be mean but to keep her safe from Riley. Riley felt that Maya would try her best to save her. But she knew she couldn't be saved, especially by a friend who would go around the world for her at a drop of a hat. Riley didn't want that for Maya, she wanted Maya to live.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when two small crumpled papers landed on her desk simultaneously. She opened the first ball of paper to see a flower with the capital "Z" next to it. She almost smiled at Zay's antics, he had been trying to check in on her it appeared but from a safe distance- which she appreciated. The other note has a small star and heart with the letter "F" next to it. Well, it was nice to know she had two friends to make sure she was grounded.

Her dad turned back their latest assignment face down on her table. 'B-, figures.' Riley read off the grade, there was a little note signed by her dad requesting that they talk after school. Another balled up note landed on her desk, this time it had a heart with the question "Can we talk? –M" sprawled next to it.

She was honestly sick of talking.

("Are you talking?")

("Or are you just hiding?")

She was starting to feel that itch again.

Riley didn't to her dad's class afterschool and didn't meet up with Maya to talk.

She knew what her dad wanted to talk about and she knew she needed to save Maya from this friend, or whatever was left of it.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Riley looked at the books on Ms. Habib's bookshelf. There was a few rows in particular that always had Riley's attention when she came int. A set of books about trafficking, girlhood, and sexuality made her mind wonder to what was in those books. They were different colors and sizes, all by different writers, all of them women writers (or at least had female sounding names). She pulled out a book about trafficking with a picture of a group of girls looking blankly at her. She was only a few sentences into the synopsis to find out what trafficking was when she heard Ms. Habib come in.

"Hey Riley, sorry about that." She found Riley still standing next to her shelf. "Looking for some light reading?"

Riley smiled, "Not really?"

Amira only crossed her arms and smiled, "Let's get you away from that section until its needed, okay?"

Riley hunkered down on the brown leathery chair, a bottle of water already in hand. "Sure." She still didn't feel like talking, but knew that she was bottled up from today's and yesterday's drama. She set the water bottle on her thigh and winced as the cold bottle made her pants chaffed against her fresh and healing cuts.

Amira didn't miss it. "You okay?"

Riley smiled, "Yeah, just shock of cold water." Riley lied easily with a smile. Amira raised a brow, not believing her at all. Riley took a deep breath, ready for the older woman to berate her. But instead…

"So, we're gonna do something a little different here today." Amira told her, getting up to move the table back and then moving the single chair so it faced Riley.

Riley looked confused but bemused, "What are we doing?"

Amira sat in front of her, the chair was pulled close, so close that Riley could see the Amira's rose gold earrings behind her hair and the dark purple eyeshadow. This was awkward.

"W-what are we doing?" Riley repeated again, this time sounding nervous.

"I know you and your mom have issues with each other Riley. That's obvious." Amira explained, "Whenever you talk about her you almost fold into yourself. You don't even call her your mom, you call her your mother. It almost sounds cold."

"Like her?" Riley mumbled relaxingly.

Amira looked taken back, "You don't think I heard that this time? Or the Freudian slip from before?"

Riley bit her lip, not wanting to confirm she did feel that way about her mother. She knew her mother didn't want her. "Every mother and daughter have their issues."

Amira nodded, "Yeah," she agreed, "But that comes with coming of age, but I think there's something else between the two of you that neither one of you want to confront for whatever reason." Amira moved to sit next to her. "I know you feel isolated by everyone right now, even those who say they are for you. I also know it sucks when the one person you want to have by your side refuses to stand by you."

Riley sniffed, "It's not that bad." She lied.

"Is it?" Amira questioned, "I usually like to have my client's parents or guardians sit in during sessions when its' appropriate but before I do that I like for the client to be ready or at least know what's the issues in order for them to confront it."

"Meaning?" Riley asked annoyed and interested at once.

Meaning you're going to have a discussion with your mom right now."

Riley could feel the panic set in quickly, "She's here?!" she asked, standing up immediately from the sofa.

Amira cocked her head to the side and moved to stand behind the single chair. "Yes. She's right in front of you." Riley looked confused and slowly sat back down, frowning at her therapist. "This is called the empty chair intervention."

"What's it supposed to do?" Riley asked perplexed, now just staring at the char as if it might come to life.

"I know why you're unhappy and why' you want to keep faking like you're happy, but you haven't mentioned your mom outright since we started our sessions. Anytime I bring her up you either mumble under your breath or try to change the subject."

"I don't."

"You do, actually."

Riley turned her face away.

"What is the number one thing I told you I would do?"

Riley sighed, "Be honest with me, even when I want or need to hide." Riley repeated Amira's promise during their first official session.

Amira smiled, "Exactly, you are a wonderful girl Riley but you've been bottling everything in a smile. This seems like something you might need in order to break some more bottles."

Riley looked at the chair again, "So what am I supposed to do then? Just talk to it like my mother's there?"

Amira nodded, grabbing her notebook off the table and sitting on the edge of the table to watch. "Yep."

Riley stared at the chair for a few minutes, her fingers peeling off the label from the water bottle. "I don't know I'm doing here!" she yelled after of few minutes of just staring.

Amira smirked, "That usually happens, so I'll help you out." She stood next to the chair, "What would your mother being wearing?"

Riley shrugged, "One of her suits. She's mostly always wearing her suit, or a blazer." Riley answered.

Amira looked over Riley, "What would she say about your clothes right now?"

Riley examined her clothes, her mother did actually say something about her yellow frilly jumpsuit and blue bangles before she had left for school. "Why are you wearing so much yellow?"

Amira frowned, "Really?"

Riley nodded and rubbed her hands on her thighs, "She would say 'why are you wearing so much yellow? Are you trying to prove your Ms. Sunshine today?'

"What would you say back?" Amira asked steadily.

"I like yellow."

"What would she say back?"

Riley blinked she hadn't actually responded after her mother asked why so much yellow, she just left. But she knew her mother would have told her, "It's not your color though."

Riley responded, this time unprompted by Amira. "But I like it."

"It just doesn't look good on you Riley, you should try something different."

"Would you say the same thing to Maya?" Riley asked, she could see her mother in front of her now. Mrs. Topanga Matthew, up and coming New York attorney and business woman. In her perfect hair, make up, and clothes.

"Well Maya can pull off yellow actually. And the frills. Why are you getting so upset? It's just a jumpsuit Riley." 'Topanga's' face twisted into a look of hurt, her arms folded against her chest.

"Because you always dote on Maya, always! Even when you admit she's turning into me she gets more praise!" Riley began to yell, getting up from the couch.

"Because Maya needs support, her mother can't always help. You know that."

"I also know that I need support, you don't encourage me like you do with Maya or even Auggie."

'Topanga' got up, "I raised you! Don't that I never supported you!"

Riley pushed back some hair that had fallen into her face, "No, dad raised me! He supports me! You just never wanted me, you never could meet me halfway!"

"Well maybe if you acted like you had some common sense instead of just being ideal like your father, maybe I could feel like we could talk!"

"I want to talk! I want to talk all the time! But you are never there for me! You make time for Auggie, for Maya, for Dad, even for Maya's mom! But not for me? What's wrong with me?" Riley started to cry, she slowly sunk down to the floor and looked up at 'Topanga'. "What's so wrong with me that you can't even stand to talk to me for more than a few minutes?" she tried to wipe away the tears but only more fell, "If I was more like you, could we talk then? If I had a talent? I'm still trying to find out who I am, why don't you accept that? What's with me trying to find myself?"

Riley sniffed, she knew what her mother would say. The words left her sounding so much like Topanga's that she honestly felt that her mother was actually in the room, "I already knew who I was when I was fourteen Riley. I knew exactly what I wanted in life and how to get it, I just don't know why you can't." Riley broke down again, laying down on the floor and crying softly. She could hear the chair being pushed back farther.

She opened her eyes, a watery looking Amira was laid down next to her a few feet away. "I hate this game." Riley admitted in a choked voice.

Amira passed her a tissue, "It's a sucky game, but how do you feel?" Amira asked softly.

Riley blew her noise and wiped her eyes the best she could, "I didn't know I was that angry at her." Riley admitted honestly, frowning at all the exposed wounds she had opened unknowingly between her mother and her.

Amira pressed her lips together in understanding, "It's a little weird to realize how much you can bottle, especially when it's something you're just used to doing." Amira offered a hand to help Riley get up. "You did really great though." Amira complimented her as she helped Riley get up from the floor and passed her the box of tissues that were on the table. She moved the chair back to its original place and sat down, along with Riley, in their usual places.

"Have you ever asked your mom those questions before?" Amira asked once Riley collected herself together again.

Riley shook her head 'no'.

Amira made a note of something in her journal, "Where did you get those response for you mother from then?"

Riley shrugged.

Amira sighed, "Please don't shut down on me now, Riley. You're doing great. I know that took a lot out of you."

Riley's lower lip began to tremble, "I know." She took a deep breath and breathed out. "I just…I never told her how angry I was at her before."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing in your book?" Amira asked studying her.

"Bad, I guess?" Riley looked down at her hands, each had a crumpled tissue in each hand. "I never realized how much we really resented each other and just couldn't talk to each other."

Amira made a soft "Hmm." sound, "Do you think your mom feels the same way as you do?"

Riley nodded, "Yes. Because to her, I'm not Riley, the daughter of Mr. Cory Matthews and Mrs. Topanga Matthews, the perfect couple." She relaxed more into the chair and pulled her legs close to her chest. "To her, I think I'm just the daughter of Cory Matthews." Riley admitted slowly but surely, a slight frown wrinkling her brow.

Amira looked as if she were considering that to be fact. "Is that really the case though?"

Riley took a few minutes to answer, "Yeah," she nodded, "It's truer than anything really."

They started to work on different intervention in where Riley had to find words on a list of self-esteemed words to describe her, which led back to the issues of Riley believing she wasn't talented enough to do anything.

"Why don't you think you're talented enough to do anything?" Amira asked sounding perplexed.

Riley was showing signs of being annoyed throughout the intervention, it was difficult to pick out positive adjective from the list and give examples as well, even when encouraged from Amira.

"I just don't have any talent. I mean I have friends who are smarter than me, better in sports than me, better in art than me, and just better than me."

Amira looked confused, "What does have to do with you having talent?"

"What doesn't it have to do with it?" Riley snapped.

"Riley," Amira started off slowly in a calm manner, "Your friends being better than you in things doesn't mean you don't have talent, it doesn't even mean that they are better than you. It just means they beat you once, you can still beat them. But competing has nothing to do with talent or hobbies."

Riley sighed dramatically, her hands clasped between her legs, "So my dad said."

"He's right." Amira offered simply. "So let's say your friends couldn't beat you then, what would be your talent or talents?"

Riley shrugged, "Dancing? I used to like theatre as well. Dancing more so."

"Did you ever join clubs or classes?"

She shrugged again, "I did, I was in a drama club and took dance classes...but I stopped going to drama after my teacher said I was too much and my dance teacher would always praise this other student."

Amira massaged her temples, "A drama teacher said you were "too much"?" She asked in disbelief.

Riley nodded.

Amira shook her head and smiled, "Ha, my drama teacher told my best friend in high school she didn't have enough soul and the right temperament to be in drama club."

Riley frowned, that didn't sound right at all, "What did your friend do?"

Amira smiled, "She still went to drama classes and then took his advices to heart, became more bubbly and smiley."

Riley was taken back a bit, that sounded like how most people would have described her.

"Did she fit in better?"

Amira pouted and shrugged, laying back in her chair as she did so, "She thought so, till her drama teacher pulled her aside and said she was too much."

"What?!" Riley exclaimed, "That's not right, you can't tell someone they don't fit in expect them to change and then not like how they change! That isn't how things are supposed to work!"

"Yeah…" Amira agreed, "But how is it supposed to work though?"

Riley stayed silent for a moment, at a lost about how to answer. "I-I don't know." She answered wide eyed. "I don't know how it should be. I mean, I want things to work out, but they never do."

Amira nodded, expecting that would be the answer, "High school and adults suck, people expect you to find yourself before you can legally drive a car, and then they expect you to know what you want to do with your life before you even know what taxes are." Amira mused to a still shocked Riley. "It's not supposed to work like that and in all honestly, it doesn't work period. People always change and continue to change, regardless of their age. That's why you need to know that regardless of what people say to you and say about you, whether it's you're too much or not enough, they can't know you and they can't change you to their ideal "Riley". It's not about them Riley, it's about you and what you want for yourself."

Riley smiled to herself, "It's my world?"

"Yes."

"My dad would tell me that."

Amira looked mildly surprised, "You have a smart dad then."

"I have the best dad." Riley corrected, she looked more alive more so now than ever today.

Towards the end of the session Amira passed Riley a form, a referral for 8 classes at Queens Dance Academy.

"You want me to dance?"

Amira flinched at the suggestion, "Sort of, it's actually an intervention that I think you would like called movement therapy, or dance therapy." She explained as she handed a brochure about the Academy and about movement therapy. "It helps connect emotion to movement, you mentioned you liked to move a lot during previous sessions. I think this will help you get your emotions out across better, especially those we uncovered today."

Riley couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the pictures of people (all different ages, race, and gender) spin around, another picture had a different group of students with their arms linked together, each of them swaying in one direction. She hugged the brochure close, "Thank you." She sniffed.

"Why are you crying?"

Riley smiled true this time, "Because I can."

Amira laughed as she guided Riley out, "Yes, yes you can." She praised Riley, "You did great today and you'll do great tomorrow. Kaycee, the therapist leading the dance group is expecting you. Everything else has been approved by your parents already. Okay?"

Riley couldn't help but let her excitement show, she felt hopeful about attending the class. She didn't know why, it just felt like something "Old" Riley would have liked. "Okay."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox

It was Riley's first day of movement therapy. She was excited when she woke up but the excitement began to wore off as she went through her day at school. She had failed another test- this time math. She overheard two sophomores trash talk her while she in line in the cafeteria- knowing full well that they knew she was behind them. She had tried to eat her lunch but ended up throwing it up half-way through study hall. What was worse? She had over did with the blade and now had a huge cut across her knee.

It stung when she walked and the cut was now chaffing against her sweat pants.

Riley had gone through out the whole day dodging her friends and ignoring their messages. She looked down at her phone to see a new message from Maya, asking Riley to please call her and that she missed her and that she was sorry and that…blah blah blah.

Riley deleted all the messages between her and Maya and even went as far as to erase Maya's number from her phone. She couldn't be friends with a balloon while she was still just a rock. She needed to let Maya go for her Maya's sake. Her (former) best friend (that stung to think or say) needed better friends than her and needed a best friend who could actually be her equal and not just a low leveled sidekick.

…She then deleted Lucas's number and erased his messages as well.

(He had chosen Maya over her. That was already decided, whether official or not, he decided)

She felt better and…lighter?

'I feel lighter." Riley realized as she walked into the dance academy. It was pretty but simple, blue speckled tiles on the floor, a white painted brink wall, and orange lights. Riley looked at the picture of past and present dancers on the wall as she signed in and was directed to which dance hall her dance therapy class would take place in.

She was almost there when she passed by what could only be described as a fish bowl. It was a large ceiling to floor window into another dance class. Riley could hear the music pounding out from the room, she stepped closer to the glass and saw there was only one person in the room dancing. She looked to be around Riley's age. Riley stepped closer as the girl danced to song that sounded like it was slow but with a heavy base, Riley recognized the dance as contemporary dance. She looked at the girl, mesmerized by the girl's dancing. The girl looked almost poetic as she continued to dance to the song, her afro swayed as she danced. Riley smiled as she noticed the girl had on a yellow top, her red-pink lipstick stood out beautifully against her brown skin.

Riley was staring for so long she never realized that the song had stopped and that her entire face was plastered against the window till the girl gave her a closed lipped smile and a small wave.

Riley ran off as quickly as possible.

Back at Amira's office…

Amira turned around quickly as her door opened without noticed revealing her coworker and a young boy that she didn't recognize. "Anuj?" the older man had the younger boy by the cuff of his shirt.

"He insisted that he should speak to you. When Torri told him he needed an appointment he just barged in here." Anuj explained, nearly growling at the boy.

Amira shrugged, "Do you have an appointment to talk to me? I know you're not on my case load." She asked, she didn't recognize the boy at all.

The boy shook his head 'No', "I needed to talk to you about a client you might be seeing."

Amira's eyes widened for a moment, "Oh? Is that all?" Amira clapped her hands together, "Anuj, call security for me."

The boy looked rightfully startled, "No! No! I just wanted to talk, please? It's really important!" The boy patted himself down, "Look? Nothing on my person!" He shook out his own jacket and turned all of his pockets inside out. "I just need to talk to you, please? I'll pay for your time."

Anuj and Amira looked at each other, "You do realize that legally I cannot tell you anything about a client? Not even confirm if they are seeing me or not, right?"

The boy signed, "I know that, but I believe that I deduced she's your client."

Amira looked skeptical, "Deduced? How so?"
"I'm a genius." The boy stated simply.

"That has yet to be confirmed." Anuj quipped, earning a laugh from Amira.

"Please?" The boy asked again.

Amira looked up before letting him know he had five minutes with her and that he couldn't ask any questions about the person he believed was seeing Amira as a client.

"What's your name by the way?" Amira asked as she assured Anuj things were fine and walked him out, she left the door open.

"Farkle Minkus."