Hey Sarge

Chapter 2 : New York...Be here

*Author's note : I wrote this chapter meanwhile listening to 'Come back...Be here' and referenced it a few times in the chapter so I recommend you listening to it meanwhile reading to get a special experience :) I hope you enjoy! Love Al.*

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Four words.

Four simple words, in a gray bubble.

"Hey Sarge, remember me?"

It only took those four words to make Pip's eyes water.

Was this real? Did he really just text her? She should text back right? Yeah, of course she should. But wait, what should she write?

'What took you so long?' or 'No, I don't remember you, who's Sarge?'.

God Pip, You can't communicate with sarcasm through text! What if he took it the wrong way? What if he thought that she actually didn't remember him.

Pip's head started to spin, She didn't know what to do! She looked down at her palms and saw a faint tint of red. No. Stop, Pip. You know that's not real. Just breathe, like Doctor Jackson told you. Breathe in, Breathe through,

Breathe dee-

"Black Coffee for Piper?"

Pip looked up and saw a barista holding her order. She quickly moved over to the counter, rubbing her imaginary bloody hands on her jeans while jamming her phone in her pocket.

"Thank you" she said, taking the coffee in her hands and taking a large sip of it before heading out the door.

It was still cold in New York in mid-April at 3pm but Pip didn't mind. It kept her grounded, down to Earth. And walking through Central Park or Manhattan's great streets helped her stay that way.

She'd realized that running was a bad trigger for her. It would bring back too many bad memories and bad memories only bring bad experiences. That's what Doctor Jackson always told her.

Doctor Jackson was Pip's therapist. She kept Pip's internal glass of emotion from falling. Safe from trauma, imaginary blood, and duct tape.

Of course, she couldn't tell her everything that had fucked her up but hey, everybody lies to their therapist about things, right?

In fact, she was on her way to see Doctor Jackson right now.

As she walked through the doors of the therapy office, she would listen to the rhythm of her shoes. Long, Long, Short, Short. Long Short, Short. Long, Short, Long...Shoot Pip, don't think about that. If you're far away, he's safe. Safe but far. But if he was jus-

"Piper? Did you hear me?"

Pip shook her head and looked at the receptionist, a woman in her late 50s, maybe early 60s.

"Yeah, Sorry, I was distracted, what did you say again?"

"Oh, it's okay sweetie, I said that Doctor Jackson's ready to see you."

"Oh, thanks."

Piper, she still hadn't gotten used to that, had she?

Piper was her new name. Well, not really, only her New York name. The podcast had gotten so big and with so many people knowing her name it was better to go by something else.

Also, if anyone wanted to find her, they wouldn't because she was off the social media grid. There was no username or email that started with Pippa Fitz Amobi.

Now, there was only Piper and her new number, but she kept the old one, just in case of some random, beautiful, charming boy would text her and come bac-