The music in the car was loud enough to drown out my memory of what had transpired earlier. The last thing I recall is calling Zania's emergency cellphone number, and she immediately left her class to come to get me when she heard me crying.

It was draining. My body is depleted of nutrients, and I'm craving food with electrolytes to help re-energize my system. I left an hour earlier than usual from school. The only thing Zania had to say was that there was an emergency at home, and they let us both go.

I haven't seen Aaren since earlier, and I have no intention of making him see me like that. It's been months since I had a psychotic episode in public, and now that it's happened, I'm starting to wonder what could come next out of nowhere in the future for me.

I forced myself up the stairs and into my bedroom when Zania and I arrived home. I let my body lie down on my bed, my face buried beneath the white sheets. When I hear a knock at my door, I have no choice but to answer, "Who is it?"

"It's me," I hear Clarissa's voice.

I push myself up from the bed and sit down properly. "Come in."

As I watch the door swing open, I brush my hair. Clarissa pokes her head around the creek side of the door, then pushes it open wide. She raises her head and forces a grin on her lips. "You're home early than expected," She says. "I heard about what happened."

Zania was the first one I told about what happened, so I already assumed she told her. Instead of calling Savannah, I dialed Zania's number. I slouched my shoulders and collapsed back onto my bed, forcing myself to look up at the ceiling fan. I'm trying to process what happened earlier while also attempting to forget about it.

"What did Zania tell you?" I ask, ignoring eye contact.

I feel Clarissa's presence beside me as she sat down on my bed.

"She said you called her on her emergency number, and then she explained to me what happened to you," Clarissa says.

Clarissa and Zania have two phones for themselves. One phone is for work or daily communications, and the other is for emergency calls and messages. It's challenging to reach them both when I dial their other numbers, so Clarissa decided that having an emergency line dedicated only to emergency calls would be a better option, making it easier to reach them if something happens, like what happened earlier.

"Should I call in Dr. Gregory?" Clarissa asks.

I try to look at her but failed to do so.

"No need," I say, "I'm okay."

I hear Clarissa scoff, "You're not honest with me," she says as I sense the disappointment in her voice.

I sat up straight and look at her, "I'm fine now. You don't have to worry about me."

"How can I not worry?" Clarissa says, her brows pulled together, and Clarissa had a worried expression all over her face. "It's hard not to worry when things like that happen to you."

I know.

"I know," I ended up saying. "Maybe I'm just not really ready to go out there, you know?"

Clarissa shakes her head as she grabs my hand, squeezing it tight.

"How will you make progress if you don't let yourself out there?" She asks, "That's why we are here for you, no matter what. Dr. Gregory is also here for you, to listen and tell you what you should do."

"I don't know," is all I managed to say.

I don't know anymore. I still don't know. When will I learn? When will the time come when I will know what I want to do with my life?

"Maybe I should see another therapist," I say as it sounds more like a statement than asking Clarissa for her approval.

She looks at me for a second before nodding her head slowly, "Yeah, we can also do that if you think it would help."

"Yeah, I think it would this time."

❀

I searched the internet for more photos of my mother and her artworks, which were once exhibited in Bill's studio. Pictures of my family and me were still circulating on the internet, along with headlines about my parents' mysterious murder and my sister's suicide.

And if I try to recall what happened that night, the night before my birthday, before I find out my parents were murdered in the middle of the night, I can't recall the vital information. The only vivid memory I have is waking up thirsty and wanting a glass of water.

I shake the memory of my birthday night from my mind, as it often triggers and gives me nightmares now and then.

I reach for my phone on my nightstand, open it, and begin browsing through my phone's contact list, eventually landing on Aaren Walter's phone number. I click on it and immediately press the iMessage button.

Before turning off my phone, I hit send. My phone begins to vibrate on my bed after about a millisecond has passed. When I turn it on, I see a message from Aaren himself.

I looked at my phone, expecting Aaren to reply, but he didn't. I put down my phone and resumed my search for my mother's paintings, particularly the picnic painting.

As my phone began to vibrate again, I immediately opened it. I take a good look at the screenshot, zooming in on the painting. My mother's painting strokes are familiar to me. When she was filling the background with various shades of paint, she would always paint horizontally. I expand the photo to the bottom right corner to see my mother's name and signature.

I put him on read and then turned off my phone to go back to looking for the exact painting where I could find the next letter Elise had written.

As soon as I see another message from Aaren's number, my phone starts vibrating again. I opened it and read the message he had sent me.

Aaren was absolutely right. When it comes to persuading me about something, Aaren always says the right things, or maybe it's just that I'm easily swayed by others, particularly by Aaren Walters.

When my phone vibrates again, it's because I've received another message, this time from Savannah. I click on her name and read the first few messages, but when I begin to read the first message she sent me, another message appears on my phone.

As I saw Savannah's caller ID on my phone, I couldn't read it correctly. As I sighed and rolled my eyes, I slid the answer button and brought the phone to my ear.

"Where were you? Why aren't you reading my messages?" Savannah says, sounding irritated on the other line as I pull the phone away from my ear for a few seconds when she starts to raise her voice louder.

I bring the phone back to my ear as I say, "I had to leave. There was an emergency."

"Yet you forgot to inform me about that and decided not to contact me after?" She says, "I waited for you at the parking lot for an hour, but you didn't show up."

"I'm sorry," I say, "I forgot. I really did. I'm really sorry."

I hear Savannah saying 'ugh' on the other line, the way she always does when she's irritated or disappointed.

I can't bring myself to say Savannah if I have a psychotic episode. I get this uneasy feeling anytime I consider telling her; I'm worried she'll react differently than Janice and the others did, even though I know Savannah respects me for who I am and what she's seen.

Only thinking about it makes me feel bad for saying I believe her because I know deep down that I don't. I'm lying to myself about it, and I'm lying to her about it. Perhaps I'm still traumatized by Janice's actions. Maybe I'm worried about what would happen if Savannah did what Janice did.

"Do you even care to tell me about the emergency that needed your presence back home an hour early?" Savannah asks.

When my phone vibrated in my ear, I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off. I take the phone away from my face and catch a glimpse of Aaren's text, which mentions the word "tomorrow" and the word "painting."

"Hello?" I hear Savannah say.

I put my phone on speaker and started multitasking by typing a message to Aaren while saying, "Yeah, yeah, I will," to Savannah.

"So, tell me?" She demands.

I tried composing another message but ended up with nothing to respond to. When it comes to serious and important information, I've just learned and realized that I couldn't multitask.

"Can I call you later?" I told Savannah. Before I could even hear Savannah's reply to my question, I immediately ended the call and sent the message to Aaren.

As I watch the three dots appear on my phone, I bite my lower lip, waiting for Aaren's response to my text.

I put down my phone and returned to my laptop. My phone vibrates once more, and I see another message from Aaren.

I felt a smile stretching across my lips, reaching my ear as I read his last two messages. Though, a part of me suddenly found it odd that he knew that something was up with me today. Am I that predictable?