Hi, I am Rebecca Whittmore, an average seventeen year old student living in Australia. Well, as average as I can be. I have experienced things, seen things, heard things. Things that I can never forget. Sometimes I want someone to see through the façade I put up. I want someone to hold me at night, when I wake up in a cold sweat after a nightmare, but of course my condition only made it impossible. No one likes a broken girl, after all.

The ringing bell snapped me out of my thoughts. I shook my head, shaking the flashbacks that were starting to appear in my mind, out of my mind. “Is the session over?” I asked my Psychiatrist, Dr Annelies Twist. She looked up from the report with a soft look.

“Yes, should I call your brother to come pick you up?” She asked, her voice gentle. She was a successful forty-eight year old psychiatrist. Divorced, but it was inspiring how she took care of her three year old son and her business, all by herself. I shook my head. My brother, my twin, couldn’t care less about me. If Dr Anne did, in fact, call him to pick me up, there’s no way he would show up. And if he did, he would yell at me for ‘disturbing him’ the whole ride home. He was probably banging some slut back home, so disturbing him would do no good.

“No it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.” I said in an almost inaudible voice while putting my jacket on. I slowly turned and looked at Dr Anne with a questioning gaze when she called for me.

“You don’t seem to be making much progress Rebecca. I’m worried about you.” She said, worry etched upon her beautiful features. Her dirty-blonde was pulled back into a ponytail, allowing her facial features to be seen clearly. You could see the slight formation of wrinkles near her eyes, but her bright sea-blue eyes covered up that flaw. The first time you look at her, the first thing you would notice, are her eyes. They were absolutely beautiful.

I nodded, not making eye contact with her, not that I could maintain it, even if I did. Homeschooling makes you socially inept, you can't help it. Dr Anne sighed, disappointed at my lack of answer. My chest tightened at the thought of disappointing yet another person who just wanted to help, but I ignored it. I don’t need help, I just need a new start, or maybe even some more time to forget everything that happened two years ago.

I did my best to ignore the stares I received as I walked to Starbucks. The strong winter gust of wind made my hood fall back down, revealing my red hair. It wasn’t bright, dull in fact. My eyes were light blue with a faint hint of grey, my jawline was slightly prominent. I kept my gaze on the ground as I made my way to the counter.

"Hey Rebecca! Will you have your usual?" The cashier, Maddy, asked. She's our neighbor. We used to be friends, but after the 'incident', we stopped talking. It was my fault. I was the one who broke all ties with her. The only time we do talk, is when I visit the coffee shop after therapy.

I nodded in response. "To go, please." I mumbled. She didn't question it. After a year and a half of barely talking, she became used to it. I sat at my usual table. It was in the corner, where not many people sit. However, the table was quite... antediluvian. It looked as if it would break by the slightest amount of weight added to it.

My phone buzzed, adrenaline being pumped into my blood. There are only two people who would text me, and I dreaded receiving both their texts. My body tensed as I opened the message from my father.

'Come home. I'll give you twenty minutes.'- the text read. I gulped. I didn't want to go home. I know exactly what's going to happen at home, and even though I was numb to it, I didn't want to go through the trouble of hiding the wounds.

I grabbed my coffee, when they called out my name, and practically ran home.

Rule number one: don't be late.