Hey everyone, here's the next update to this story. It's not a light read by a long shot, but hopefully it can bring some comfort to people; help you feel less alone.

Chapter 41: Not.. Not Okay

Spencer's POV

Last week was hell. Everything just felt… wrong. I can't wrap my head around the fact that I've lived with this for years. And yet—now—my whole world feels shattered. Maybe not completely. Emily has been amazing. And so have Hanna and Aria.

My calculus teacher's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Miss Hastings, pay attention."

This is such bullshit. I'm one of the only people who actually pay attention in class, and yet I'm the one he calls out?

I open my mouth to—what? Tell him off? I don't even know. But before I can, Emily—having caught the whole exchange—raises her hand. "I'm sorry, Professor Colton, I'm not sure I understand. Can you go over it a little slower, please?"

"Of course, Miss Fields. As I was saying—"

I guess I'll have to thank my girlfriend later. For now, I go back to not listening. I know it's stupid. I should care. University applications are coming up, and if I want to get out of this town, now is the worst time to slack off.

But I just don't.

The class drags on, and I can't sit still. My leg bounces under the desk, my pencil tapping in sync. I glance at the clock—it has to be broken. Time is barely moving.

Fuck.

Why is everything so calm? Why is everyone just sitting here like the world isn't a fucking joke?

Emily keeps sneaking glances at me, her shoulders tensing with each one. She knows. She can probably tell I'm about to explode.

It makes me sick. I've dealt with this for so long. I survived it. I made it through and even helped Emily sort through her demons. But now, out of nowhere, it's like something inside me snapped. Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm pissed all the time. I can't sleep. I don't want to eat. I must be unbearable to be around.

Maybe… I never really dealt with what Ian did to me. Maybe I just buried it, convinced myself it was nothing.

A few people glance my way, clearly annoyed by the constant bounce of my leg and the tap of my pen. I force myself to stop. Try to stay still.

I really do.

It's impossible.

After the third round of this little cycle, I can't take it anymore. I gather my things into a neat pile, ready to grab and go.

I know I can't just leave. I shouldn't make a scene.

Except… what does it matter anymore?

Emily tries to catch my attention. She smiles, takes a deep breath, silently telling me to do the same. I shake my head and look away. I can't do this right now. She's trying to help—I know that. I wish I could let her.

The girl next to me exhales loudly when my knee bangs against the desk.

That's it. I'm out.

I stand, grab my things, and bolt.

"Miss Hastings! Come back here! What are you doing?" Colton calls after me, but I don't stop.

What's he going to do, call the cops?

I reach my locker, shove my books inside, and grab my purse and sweater. I need to get out before another teacher sees me.

As I step outside toward my car, I hear fast footsteps behind me. I speed up.

"Spencer, wait up!"

Emily. She followed me.

I hesitate for half a second but still turn to face her.

"Spence, don't do this. Don't leave," she pleads.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Em. I'm just going home. Go back to class."

I turn toward my car, but she rushes ahead and blocks my path.

"Baby…" Her voice shakes, eyes glistening.

I never meant to scare her. Never wanted to hurt her. But I don't know how to not do that right now.

"I'm scared, Spencer. I'm scared for you."

I suck in a sharp breath. It feels like I'm ruining everything, but I don't know how to stop digging my own grave.

She takes a step closer and grabs my hands. I want to jerk them away, but her touch is soft—so soft—against my skin. We haven't shared much physical contact since I told the girls everything. Emily hasn't initiated it, probably waiting for me to be ready.

And I never told her I was.

I haven't told her much of anything, actually.

I close my eyes, basking in the warmth of her. I've been so raw, so on edge this past week… Her gentleness is comforting. But the contrast between her softness and the anger boiling inside me is too much to wrap my head around.

When I open my eyes again, a tear rolls down her cheek. My stomach twists.

What the fuck am I doing to her?

I want to lash out. Tell her to leave me the fuck alone. Go back to class, keep her grades up, and then leave me in the dust when she goes off to college. I want to scream at her that I'm damaged goods, a fucking mess. Dirty. That she doesn't need or deserve any of this.

I think she sees it—the thoughts spinning like a storm in my head. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms around me, holding me tight.

"I love you, Spencer. I love you. I love you. You didn't deserve any of this."

At first, I don't move. Don't return the embrace.

I should push her away. Maybe I want to, out of instinct. But nothing in the past week has felt as good as this.

Then… I give in.

My arms slide around her waist, my head buries itself in the crook of her neck, and I inhale deeply. The scent of her. A twinge of flowers and something sweet—probably lavender and vanilla.

My eyes start to well up.

For days, all I could think about was his scent. That overly "manly" cheap cologne. Something strong, something wrong. Axe, or some other bullshit.

I've been remembering this one time he made me shower with him at school. It was long after hours. We had been practicing swings in the gym—different than on the field, but he said that didn't matter. He wanted me to perfect my form.

Now I know he just wanted to get his hands on me, away from prying eyes.

After practice, he said he needed to shower before meeting up with my sister. Suggested I do the same. With him.

And I did.

Afterward, when we were dressed, he sprayed his cologne across his chest, an X down his front.

I wish that X had meant eliminated. Deleted from my life.

But now… now I'm in Emily's arms. And her scent is everything his wasn't.

Sweet. Loving. Pure.

Emily gently plays with my hair. I can feel myself melting into her touch. It feels strange. But in a good way.

After a moment, Emily pulls back just slightly. "Love… I think it's time to go see Miss Carson now. You said you would."

I look down. She's right. I told her I'd get help. I meant to. And then I bailed.

When I meet Emily's gaze again, I see it—she needs me to take this seriously. She needs me to see how important this is to her.

I nod slowly. "I…" My throat tightens.

I want to say yes. I want to give her what she's asking for. But god, it feels impossible.

"Please, Spencer. Let's go together. Right now."

I bite my bottom lip. I don't want to do this. But if Emily believes Miss Carson can help… shouldn't I trust her?

"Okay…" I mumble, eyes dropping to the pavement.

Before I can second-guess myself, Emily takes my hand and leads me toward the school. She doesn't give me the chance to change my mind, and honestly, it's probably better that way.

When we reach the administration offices, I follow her inside, trying to pretend she's leading me anywhere but the counselor's office.

Miss Carson's door is open.

Fuck.

I was hoping she'd be in a session so I could turn around and leave.

Emily knocks softly on the doorframe. "Miss Carson…? Are you free?"

The counselor looks up with a smile. "Emily, hi! And Spencer. That's a nice surprise."

I snort. Yeah, I bet.

She either doesn't notice or chooses to ignore it, still smiling as she gestures us inside. "Come on in. Close the door."

Miss Carson gets up from her desk and settles into a chair across from the two-seater instead.

Emily doesn't let go of my hand as she pulls me toward the couch. I sit stiffly beside her, every muscle in my body resisting being here. And I know Miss Carson picks up on it.

"I'm glad to see you, Spencer."

"Uh… yeah. Me too…" I try to sound sincere. I probably don't.

She doesn't call me out on it. Instead, she offers a reassuring smile. "Coming here can be intimidating. It takes a lot of courage—"

"Or a tenacious girlfriend," I mutter, cutting her off.

Miss Carson lets out a genuine laugh, and somehow, it makes me smile too.

"That works too," she teases. "But it doesn't change the fact that you came."

"I guess so," I admit.

"Thank you. For giving me a chance to help you, Spencer."

Her voice is sincere, and I'm caught off guard by it.

"I know it's not easy for Spencer to open up," Emily says. "Hell, it wasn't easy for me either. But… I think it's important."

"It is," Miss Carson agrees. "But you're right—it can be really hard."

I stare at the floor. They're expecting me to talk now. I know that's why I'm here. But the thought of actually opening up makes my throat tighten.

Emily shifts beside me. "Maybe I should give you two some privacy?"

I don't answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, I reach blindly for her hand and hold it tight. I don't want her to go. Not yet.

Miss Carson notices but doesn't push. "Whatever makes you most comfortable," she assures us. "Emily can stay if that's what you both want."

I nod instantly. Emily must do the same because she doesn't move.

The room stays silent for a moment before Miss Carson speaks. "How are you feeling, Spencer? I'm guessing something happened for you both to be here instead of class?"

I raise an eyebrow. Surely she already knows? Emily must have told her, right?

Emily answers, but her eyes are on me instead of the counselor. "Spence, I told Miss Carson what you told us. I… I didn't mean to break your trust. I just needed to work through some things of my own." Her voice is hesitant, like she's afraid of how I'll react.

I nod. "I figured as much. But… you didn't tell anyone else, right?"

"Of course not!" she says quickly.

"And what you tell me here stays between us," Miss Carson adds.

"Anything I say?" I press, needing to be sure.

"Mostly, yes. But if I'm worried about your safety or someone else's, I may have to break confidentiality," she admits. "It's not something I do often. My goal is to help you work through what's weighing you down."

I wonder what qualifies as dangerous enough for her to break that promise. I'm not sure she's ready to hear what's in my head.

She must pick up on my hesitation because she explains further. "Everything you share with me stays in this room—I promise. The only exception is if there's an immediate danger. For example, if someone was planning something that could end in serious harm. Then I couldn't just sit by. But I want to be upfront with you. Confidentiality can be broken, but it's rare."

I nod. That makes sense. I can appreciate honesty.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Miss Carson asks gently.

Emily squeezes my hand, a silent encouragement. I take a deep breath.

"I just… I feel angry all the time. Like, hyper? I guess you could say." The words tumble out before I can second-guess them.

"Like a volcano ready to explode?" she suggests.

"Yes. That's a good way to put it." I exhale sharply. "Everything irritates me. I can't sit still. I need… I don't even know what I need. It just feels like I'm bubbling beneath the surface."

"That must make it really hard to focus in class."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Try impossible. That's actually why we're here. Ask Professor Colton."

"Did something happen with him? Or in his class?" she asks, a note of concern in her voice.

"In his class, yeah. It wasn't him, though. I just couldn't hold back anymore. I walked out."

"And I followed," Emily adds.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that attending classes and paying attention is important if you want to get your diploma and go to university," Miss Carson says. I nod obediently, shame creeping up my spine.

She continues, "But sitting here, we all know it's not that simple." I look up, a flicker of hope stirring inside me. "When our minds and hearts are in pieces, it's hard to pretend that daily life is normal."

I let out a quiet sigh. Exactly. I can't pretend anymore.

"If you'd like—and only if you agree—I could speak with Mr. Colton. I won't share anything personal, but I can let him know you were here with me. And with Emily." She pauses. "I don't think you should get in trouble for struggling with something so personal."

Her words catch me off guard. I was raised to believe emotions make you weak, that no one should ever see a crack in your composure.

"Uh… but won't he ask questions?" Surely he'd want to know why I was in the counselor's office.

"You can leave that to me. He won't bother you, Spencer."

"I… okay then… I guess that's fine," I murmur.

Emily squeezes my hand, a silent reminder that she's still here, still supporting me.

Miss Carson leans forward slightly. "Like Emily said earlier, I know a little about what you're going through. I won't pretend otherwise. But I'd like to hear what you want to share, in your own time. It's your choice, Spencer. You decide what to say."

"Oh… uh… I don't even know where to start." I cough, uncomfortable.

"Maybe we could start with how you're doing? Trauma affects everyone differently."

"Or maybe some people are just dumb enough to bury it for years, thinking they're fine—until a few memories rip everything apart." My voice drips with bitterness.

"You are not dumb!" Emily blurts out before Miss Carson can respond.

I glance at her, doubtful. "I feel like it…"

"Love, you're not dumb," Emily insists, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "You did what you had to do to function, to survive."

She reaches up, gently brushing my cheek with her hand. My eyes flutter shut at the warmth of her touch.

Miss Carson lets the moment settle between us before speaking again. "Emily's right. Sometimes, the brain suppresses or blocks access to memories as a form of protection. Trauma is complex, Spencer. But there's no 'right' or 'wrong' way to deal with it. Everyone copes the best they can."

"It just feels so stupid." My hands clench into fists. "This isn't new. Ian abused me! That fact hasn't changed! And a part of me always knew what it really was." My voice rises. "He was my first—but it was never love. Not for him. Not when he was screwing my sister and sleeping in her bed every night!" A sharp, bitter laugh escapes me. "Fuck, it makes me sick! I'm sick!"

My breath stumbles, chest rising and falling too fast. My vision tunnels.

"Spencer?" Miss Carson's voice cuts through the haze, steady and calm. "Can you breathe with me? In… and out…"

Her voice anchors me. I force myself to follow, inhaling shakily, exhaling slower. In. Out. Again. Until my breathing finally evens out.

Miss Carson gives me a moment. She doesn't rush in with some empty reassurance or forced comfort, and I don't know if that makes it better or worse. The silence presses against my ribs, tightening everything inside me.

When she finally speaks, her voice is calm. "Spencer, what happened to you was not your fault."

I flinch, shaking my head automatically. I don't want to hear this.

"I know those words might not sit right with you," she continues gently, "but I need to say them anyway. Because they're true."

My throat closes up. I feel Emily's grip tighten on my hand, and it's the only thing keeping me grounded.

"I'm not saying it's easy to believe," Miss Carson adds. "Because I know how trauma works. I know how memories twist things and make you feel responsible. But, Spencer, you were a kid. And Ian—" She exhales sharply, her jaw tightening for the first time since we sat down. "What he did to you was monstrous."

A chill runs through me. I don't know why I expected her to sugarcoat it, to find a way to make it sound less awful than it was. Maybe because I've been doing that for years.

She leans forward slightly, not intruding on my space but making sure I hear her. "It makes sense that you're angry. It makes sense that you're overwhelmed. And it makes sense that you're hurting."

I clench my jaw, staring down at my lap. My heart hammers against my ribs like it's trying to break free.

"You don't have to carry this alone, Spencer."

The words chip away at something inside me. I press my lips together and force a nod.

Miss Carson lets a few seconds pass before glancing at the clock. "We're almost out of time," she says gently. "I want to respect where you're at, so we can stop here, or—"

I cut her off, my voice hoarse. "Can we just… not talk for a second?"

She nods immediately.

So we sit there in silence. Emily's thumb moves slowly over my knuckles, grounding me. Miss Carson doesn't fill the space with words, doesn't try to make it easier. She just lets me breathe.

The silence stretches between us, but for once, it doesn't feel suffocating. It's not like before, when the quiet made me feel trapped inside my own head.

This silence is different. It gives me room to breathe.

Miss Carson doesn't rush me. Emily doesn't push. They just stay.

After a few minutes, Miss Carson speaks again, her voice as steady as ever. "Spencer, I want to make sure you have the right support. I'm always here if you need to talk, but I also think it might help to work with someone who specializes in trauma therapy."

I tense slightly, my muscles coiling on instinct. "You're saying you can't help me?"

Miss Carson shakes her head. "That's not it at all. But trauma is complicated. It affects the brain, the body, the way you see yourself and the world around you. And while I can help with a lot of things, I want to make sure you have the best tools to work through this. You deserve that."

I don't know why, but her words hit differently than I expected. She's not passing me off. She's making sure I don't have to do this alone.

Still, the idea of opening up to someone new makes my stomach twist. "I don't know if I can do that."

Miss Carson nods, like she expected that answer. "I get it. It's hard to start over with someone else. But I can help with that. If you're open to it, I can reach out to a trauma therapist I trust, someone I think would be a good fit for you. I'll explain your situation so you don't have to go through the whole thing alone on the first day."

Emily squeezes my hand again, and I know she's silently begging me to say yes.

I exhale slowly. "I'll think about it," I mumble.

Miss Carson smiles, not pushing me for more. "That's all I ask."

She glances at the clock again. "We're at the end of our session. I don't want to overload you, so we can stop here."

I nod, relieved. I don't think I could take much more today.

Emily stands with me, never letting go of my hand.

Miss Carson hands me a small card. "This has the therapist's information. If and when you're ready, just let me know, and I'll make the introduction."

I take it, staring at the name printed on the front. It doesn't feel real.

"In the meantime, I'd still like to see you again soon. Would you be comfortable meeting with me next week?"

I hesitate but find myself nodding. "Yeah. Next week is fine."

Miss Carson smiles. "Good. We'll take this one step at a time, Spencer."

I swallow past the lump in my throat, gripping Emily's hand a little tighter before letting go.

When we step out of the office, the hallway is empty, the air still. It feels like the world should be different after everything I just said. But it's not.

Emily doesn't speak right away, and for once, I'm grateful. I don't think I could handle words. Instead, she just holds my hand and doesn't let go.

We walk past the lockers, past the doors, until we're outside. The cold hits me, sharp and real, cutting through the heaviness pressing on my chest. The crisp air grounds me.

Emily finally breaks the silence. "Do you want to go home or take a walk first?"

I don't answer immediately. I don't know what I want.

I should go home. Crawl into bed. Disappear under the covers. But the thought of lying there, alone, trapped with my own thoughts? That might be worse.

I exhale, watching my breath curl into the air. "Can we just… sit somewhere for a bit?"

Emily doesn't hesitate. "Of course."

She leads me to a bench near the parking lot, far enough from the school that it doesn't feel suffocating. We sit. Neither of us speaks.

I let myself lean into her warmth. Just for a moment. It's enough to steady me, enough to pull a question from my lips.

"How are you doing, Emily? Really?" My voice is quiet, uncertain. "Everything has been such a roller coaster. And it started with us trying to be intimate. It must have felt heavy for you too."

She turns toward me, eyes searching mine. "I'm not gonna lie. It has. And I'm not really okay." She pauses, as if weighing her words. "But I'm not… not okay. If that makes any sense."

I nod. "It does. I get it. I think 'not not okay' has been my default for longer than I thought." I glance down, exhaling. "Except when I'm with you. These last couple of months, being your girlfriend… It's the happiest I've ever been."

Her eyes soften. She leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips.

"Me too, love."

I hold her tighter, breathing her in.