― twenty-nine: legacy

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[ CHAPTER 29 : LEGACY :you know i'm bad at communication it's the hardest thing for me to do. and it's said it's the most important part that relationships go through. and i gave it all away just, so i could say that well: i know, i know, i know, i know that you're gonna be okay anyway. you know there's no rhyme or reason for the way you turned out to be. i didn't go and try to change my mind, not intentionally. i know it's hard to hear me say it, but i can't bear to stay.]


          PARKER AWAKES IN HER bed, her whole body covered in sweat. Her eyes dance around the room, looking everywhere, but it's so blurry and she's so confused, she doesn't recognize a thing. She barely even registers that her parents are standing in one corner of her room, staring at her in wonder and worry. "I have never seen her act this way," Her mother mutters, vaguely the girl can see the woman gripping her father's arm tightly. "What could possibly be going on with her? Greg, I don't understand."

          "She's suffering, Bella," Her father continues, sounding stern but weary. Almost as if he doesn't believe what he's saying. "She couldn't stop Rose before she entered the street, she's blaming herself for what happened," Her mother sniffles as she falls into her father's chest. Parker keeps unmoving, and clenches her eyes shut. Hearing her parents speak about her only makes her feel guiltier. Guilty for lying to them. Guilty for not being truthful. Guilty for what happened to Rose. "Tomorrow we take Rose off of life support, and I don't think she'll be able to manage, mentally."

          "What we do then?" Her mother whispers, holding back her cries.

          Her father sighs, "I think we need to send her to a psychiatrist."

          "A psychiatrist?" The woman gasps, "Greg, she would never forgive us!"

          "She's mentally unstable, Bella, you saw her," Her father sighs in frustration. "When that boy brought her home, she was out of it. And you heard him, she was throwing up, and sobbing because of Rose. We can't just let her continue this way, she'll only suffer more and I can't bear watching her like this any longer. If we take her to a psychiatrist, maybe they'll be able to help her." Parker struggles to even think of a psychiatrist being able to help her. Right now, it seems like no one can. Not until this whole thing is done. Right now, everything she thinks about and everything she experiences is hurting her. No psychiatrist or therapist is going to save her.

          They think you're insane.

          Parker lets out an irritated sigh, when will these thoughts stop? Maybe she really is insane and she just hasn't come to terms with that yet. "Let's talk about this in the morning, it's too much to think about right now," Her mother quietly walks over to the side of the bed she lies on. Ever so carefully she leans down and presses a swift kiss to the side of her head. "Sleep tight, sweetie. I love you." She gently strokes her head before leaving the room with her husband trailing behind her. Leaving Parker to lie in misery, and drown in her tears.


          "HOW WAS YOUR DAY, Parker?" Doctor Turner, her new psychiatrist, asks in a soft tone on a Friday afternoon, just as she walks into his roomy office. She closes the white painted door behind her, before taking a seat on the comfy brown leather couch that sits across from his large mahogany desk, which he sits behind in a times-two-big office chair directly in front of a large bay window with blinds keeping the sun out. In one hand he holds a grey clipboard, in another he holds a fancy fountain pen―gold plated wrapped with black―ready to record her commentary about life.

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