"What happened, babe?" Regina asked, as soon as her lover closed the car door. "You're, like... sweating... and your face is-"

"It's so weird, not telling her how we met. I have to avoid talking about you too much because I don't want her to ask about it and me have to lie. I don't want to lie to her."

"Em... I know you don't want to lie, but telling the truth..."

"She has to report that, right? I mean, she didn't say that when she was going over what confidentiality covers or anything, but..."

"Well... honestly... it's a gray area. My first thought, a year ago, would have been to tell, had it been one of my clients who disclosed that to me. Now, obviously, I see things from the other side and feel differently. But you're right. Therapy depends on honesty, and not being honest is... difficult, especially when the person is as sweet as you are."

"Oh, shut up," Emma laughed, shaking her head and pushing a hand through her blonde locks. "I'm not sweet. Anyway, I'm not going to tell her. It's just stressing me out, and it makes it hard to focus when I'm in there. We got dangerously close today."

"Emma. I don't want to be your secret."

"And I don't want to be yours. It's the same thing."

"Yeah," the brunette sighed. "I guess you're kind of right. It is sort of the same thing."

"I guess we just have to kind of deal with it."

"I don't want this to get in the way of your therapy. What you do in there is more important than anything else."

"It's not more important than our relationship!" the girl cried adamantly.

"It is. Your recovery and mental health are the most important things. Not me or us."

"That's bullshit, Regina! You mean more to me than anything in this world, and I... I..."

Emma trailed off when she realized the weight of what she'd just begun to say, and Regina turned and stared at her as the car remained parked.

"You're... I'm..." the woman tried, a knot rising in her throat. "You shouldn't say that."

"You're deflecting."

"You're being ridiculous!" the therapist shot back defensively. "I am not deflecting!"

"You are too. But whatever. I don't want to deal with what I just said either, so let's just fucking go home and forget about it."

A little too shocked by her lover's reaction to reply, Regina drove them home in silence.

After another more heated argument - nearly a fight - the two of them managed to fall asleep on the bed together, facing away from each other.

In the middle of the night, Emma woke in a cold sweat with tears on her cheeks, the scene having replayed in her dreams, only with more intensity, and a more severe ending. Regina remained out cold, but even though the girl was distraught, she was too upset with herself to wake her lover.

Instead, she grabbed her cell phone and stumbled into the bathroom and locked herself in, sitting on the floor. For a while, she simply sat and cried as she flipped through the pictures of herself and her lover that were saved to her phone, feeling horrible for the things she'd said that night. Shaking and exhausted, but determined to end whatever she was feeling, she set the phone down on the tile floor and stood up, opening the medicine cabinet to find the pair of small, sharp scissors that she knew were waiting for her.

Sitting back on the floor with her legs crossed, she held out her left wrist and pressed down on it with one of the the blades of the scissors until blood began to bubble up around the metal. Just by chance, she happened to look to her right and notice the cell phone beside her, and her hand froze.

'Call me any time,' Danielle had said.

Emma sobbed harder. What would I even say? I can barely speak, and I... Subconsciously, her right hand pushed the blade down harder, but she stopped herself from dragging the object over her wrist. Instead, she forced herself to drop the scissors, which landed on the tile floor with a loud clanging noise. Slamming her head back against the wall in frustration, she grabbed the phone and dialed her therapist's number.

It only rang twice.

"Emma?" Danielle's level voice came through the other end of the line. "Are you alright?"

The girl just sobbed, unable to push words past the lump in her throat, but the desire to speak was so great that her inability to do so induced a panic attack she could not escape.

As soon as the therapist heard the strangled sounds of Emma's breathing, she said, "Exhale, Emma. Breathe out. I know it feels like you can't breathe, but that's because you're forgetting to breathe out. It's a stress response, and it's okay. It's going to stop, alright?"

Emma was sure that Regina would wake to her uncontrolled sobbing any minute, but although she was ashamed of her outburst and horrified of the idea of being found on the bathroom floor like that, she could not contain her emotions.

"I'm s-sorry," the blonde choked out, in between gasping breaths. "I can't... I can't-"

"Emma, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. I promise. You're doing great. I can hear you breathing now. Keep going okay? Out and then in again."

"I can't," the girl wailed, still struggling for air. "I... I..."

"Shh. Emma, listen to me. Don't talk for a minute, okay? I just want you to breathe, and in one minute, we'll talk, if you want to. Just slow down and try to breathe."

At first, this seemed impossible, but with a few more encouraging words from the therapist, Emma was able to get her breathing back down to slow, shaking breaths.

"Good. You made it a minute. You can make it another minute. And another. Any time this happens, I promise you it will stop."

"I hate this," Emma sniffled. "I'm so fucked up. Why is this happening to me?"

"You're hypersensitive because of the trauma you've been through. It's trained you to be defensive and closed off, but it's also made you crave intense levels of intimacy. None of this is your fault, Emma. This is just a horrible, horrible part of what people who experience trauma have to go through before they recover. But it gets better, okay? I promise you it gets better."

"Doctor Cohen... I want to cut so bad. I mean, I did... a little... I just... I didn't... I mean... I just pressed down and there was some blood, but I... I didn't... I mean..."

"Slow down, Emma. It's okay. Are you still bleeding?"

There was a pause while Emma looked down at her own wrist, which only had a small red line on it with a little bit of dried blood.

"No."

"Good. You stopped. You did wonderfully. You took a huge step, and you should be proud."

"But why? I-"

"You stopped yourself. You and I both know that you could have done some serious damage, and you probably would have a few months ago, but tonight... you took control."

"What are you talking about? I completely lost control!"

"Just because you had a panic attack doesn't mean you lost control. Your body might have lost control for a moment, but you came right back, and you controlled your urges. You also had the courage to call me." When Emma was silent in response, Danielle continued, "How did that feel? I imagine it must have been difficult."

"It was... I feel so stupid. I'm so sorry to bother you in the middle of the night like this. I didn't want to cut. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I didn't want to hurt Regina or Belle. I..."

"Yes?"

"I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I still have the urges, and they just won't fucking go away, but I don't want to cut. I don't want to keep doing this to myself. And to the people I care about."

"Emma... That's a beautiful thing. You have made so much progress. That being said, I wouldn't have been disappointed in you if you had cut, or if you hadn't called. I would have understood. I just would have been concerned for your well-being, that's all. I just care about you and want you to be healthy and good to yourself."

"I-" Emma started, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door. "Oh, shit. I woke her up! I should go."

"You did great tonight, Emma. Please call me tomorrow morning and let me know how you're feeling then."

"Goodnight, Doctor C-"

"Danielle."

"Goodnight, Danielle."