“So what happened next?”
I roll my eyes and give her my shoulder. This is ridiculous. I stare at the clock ticking, tick, tock, tick, tock. It’s funny how everywhere in the world, every second, life is happening. Life is going on outside of these walls, each person living their own life, forging their own path. It always astounds me how each person is living their own separate life but our lives are somehow interconnected. We are all characters in the same book, yet no one knows how the story will end or what their role in the plot is. I wish I could see the world through someone else’s eyes, live life as a different character in a different chapter, and feel strange, unfamiliar emotions.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she says, trying to cajole me into speaking.
My mind drifts off  to the other week; I had slumped into the front seat and turned the radio up as the car slowly began to putter along. My dad and I weren’t much of talkers; we didn’t mind letting the crackling of the radio fill the subtle silence between us. I traced the scar on my wrist as the world meshed into a blur of green and brown around me.
It’s a horrendous thing, the scar. The jagged lines run from my elbow to my wrist, proof that some first-year resident needed more suture training on bananas. I always try to cover it up with long sleeves or a chain of bracelets, seeing that I thought it made me look like Frankenstein. Complaining  about it to my mother, she would tell me I was blind to its true significance. I was like a canvas; the scars and bruises I acquired gave me character, they were my written history she told me. My heart aches as I recall myself sitting in her lap, Mama tracing the scar, me leaning against her chest. Nothing ever placated me more than the scent of her lavender perfume, her signature scent. I still keep a bottle of that perfume on my night stand.
I smiled, almost turning to my dad to tell him what I was thinking but quickly remembered that we didn’t talk about her anymore. After she passed away, Dad said we needed a fresh start. So we piled everything into the car and drove across the country until we stopped in front of a little, yellow single family home that looked like it was cut out of Better Homes and Gardens. Dad said it would be fun; I saw it as an opportunity to run away and reinvent myself. It seemed so simple, all I had to do was play the part of the person I wanted  to become.
***
“Hey,” said a spunky blonde as she slid onto the bench beside me gracefully.
“Um, hi,” I replied cautiously.
“I’m Anna,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “What’s your name?”
I traced the scar on my wrist. “Lillian,” I smiled back. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“So are you like, new around here or something? I haven’t seen you around her before,” she said brusquely.
“Yeah, I just moved here a few days ago actually.”
“Perfect! I can introduce you to some of my friends,” she stood up, flipping her effortlessly perfect hair,  and nudged me to follow her.
I was a little skeptical, but still followed her as she led me over to a group of slightly outlandish kids leaning against a brick wall at the back of the school. “Guys, this is Lillian- Lillian, meet Amy, Dan, Lexie, and Patrick.” They each nodded his or her head as introductions were made. “She’s a newbie, so I’ve taken her under my wing,” she announced proudly, throwing her arm around my shoulder.
Patrick eyed me suspiciously. “So, new girl, where you from?” he asks.
“Nowhere interesting,” I reply.
Lexie turned to Amy, clearly ignoring me. “You’re going to that football party tonight, right?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Only because I have to be there to babysit you.”
“You should come to the party tonight! You’d meet so many people from school, it’s like, the perfect way to get to know people!” Anna turned to me.
“I don’t know, I have a lot to unpack...” I muttered, trying to sidestep her very sudden invitation.
“Come on, your stuff’s not going anywhere!” she relentlessly tugged on my arm.
“No really, it’s fine. Plus,  I wouldn’t even have a ride.”
“You live around here right? It’s not far, I’ll pick you up!” She slipped her phone into my hand so I can punch in my number.
“I don’t know, I think I’ll  pass.” I looked up to see Anna, Patrick, and Amy all staring at me, waiting. Lexie whispered something to Dan and they both started to giggle.
“On second thought, what’s one night off?” I tapped in my address and number. This is who I am now, who I want to be. I’m spontaneous. “I’ll be ready by seven,” I said as the bell rang overhead.
“Great! It’ll be fun!” She pulled her backpack onto her shoulder. “By the way,” she said in a quieter voice to me, “maybe you should cover that up with something,” she pointed to my bare arm.
I tugged at my sleeve as she continued “you just don’t want to freak out the varsity guys, you know, to make a good first impression is all.”
“Right,” I replied. A first impression is everything.
***
I nervously eyed the clock to my right. 7:15. Is she just playing a joke on me? I turned back to the mirror and pulled my sleeve down a little bit more and toyed with the beads on my bracelets.. I pulled the lip gloss out of my purse and applied another layer of shimmering coral. I heard a car horn honk outside, took one final look in the mirror, and stepped out into the steamy night. This is who I am now.
  Ten minutes later, we walked  into the party, the crowd parting for us to pass. I smiled to myself and walked with my head held high, knowing that I made it in with the right people; Anna clearly reigned over these people. She said something to me, but I couldn’t hear her over the eclectic beat reverberating around us. We linked arms and walked outside,where she grabbed two cups and said, “drink up!”
She stared at me with anticipation. This is what Lillian does, I thought as I chugged down the drink. I tried to suppress my nausea as it slithered down my throat and a grin of satisfaction crossed her face. When we headed back inside, I almost lost her in a sea of drunk high school jocks. We found Lexie giggling with Patrick in a corner, spilling some of her drink on the carpet. Lexie made it a point to look me up and down before speaking.
“It’s a party, lighten up. You look too uptight,” she grumbled, pushing past me to make her way back to the keg.
Anna shrugged her shoulders. “Come on, there’s someone I’d like to introduce you to,” she led me over to two guys so drunk they were barely standing.
“Mike!” She hugged the shaggy blonde with one arm, holding her beer with the other.
“And Shawn,” she smiled. “This is Lillian, she’s new around here so you guys can get to know each other! Mike and I will just go get some more drinks.”
She winked at me and led Mike back toward the patio.
“Hey,” he smiled. There was an unfortunate gap between his two front teeth.
“Hi,” I smiled, taking a step closer to gap-toothed Shawn. “Let me guess, lacrosse player?” I asked gesturing toward his varsity jacket.
“That obvious, huh,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m an attacker, how’d you know?”
“You lacrosse players just have this c***y, over-confident aura surrounding you,” I batted an eyelash.
“Is that so? Well what about you, where are you from?”
“Somewhere so boring, you’ve probably never even heard of it.” I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp.
“Ah, so you’re trying to be mysterious,” he teased.
Just as I started to loosen up a little, I heard sirens in the distance. Everyone began to panic and the music cut off, the shuffling and chaos filling the booming silence. Anna found me in the crows and yanked me toward the exit.
“Are you sure you can drive?” I asked a little concerned as she fumbled to get her keys.
“We don’t really have much of a choice! The cops will be here any second! Besides I haven’t had that much to drink,” she jammed the keys into the ignition and the engine revved to life. We sped away from the party so quickly, I don’t think she was paying attention to the road ahead of her, she just wanted to get far, far, away.
It was one of the hottest summers yet; the thick, humid air threatened to suffocate me even after the sun had retired. I sat watching the faint shapes illuminated by the moonlight roll by as we winded down the road. It felt like we were in a videogame, the road appearing before us in the darkness as we twisted and turned along the narrow road, speeding along to an unknown destination. I felt like I could sit there forever; the wind whipping my face, the moonlight bouncing off of the rearview mirror. Just me and my thoughts, everything else blocked out. Under the whistling of the wind in my ears, I heard the faintest whisper of Here Comes the Sun escaping from the stereo. A smile crept across my lips and in that silence, as we dwindled down the highway, everything was okay. Quiet, simple, uncomplicated.
And then it was over. An enormous crash drowned the faint Beatles’ melody, glass embedded in my cheek replaced the wind whipping my face, and the moonlight no longer illuminated the night. Everything was dark. My moment of perfection was over. Bam.
***
Everything hurt. I couldn’t open my eyes. It was loud. The beeping and whirring of machines made my head pound. I couldn’t move. What was happening? I couldn’t understand anything, was I even conscious? I could faintly hear voices, but I couldn’t see anything. Was I dying?
“She’s losing a lot of blood…”
My mother was running her hands through my hair, she was singing in my ear and tickling my belly. I giggled and snuggled with her.
“Patient is unresponsive…”
I waddled up to my dad and climbed into his lap. I scribbled onto a sheet of paper trying to be professional as he tapped away at his computer. I was eight years old again.
“We need a crash cart in here now!”
I crumbled into my father’s arms as the doctors confirmed that Mama was gone. I would never hold her hand again, never feel her embrace, never see the sparkle in her eyes again. No one ever fought the monsters under my bed after that.
“Charge to 200!” Bang.
I am in a hospital. There was an accident, I figured. Where’s Anna? What happened at the party? Do the doctors know we were drunk? I am going to be in so much trouble, I thought. I tried to force my eyes open so I could survey the situation. My head hurt so much. What if they had to cut off some of my hair to fix my head?!
“Charge to 300!”
I cried on my way home from school on mother’s day; I dried my tears and washed my face before dad came home, we didn’t speak a word that day. I wanted to be anyone else but me.
“CLEAR!” Bang.
My father’s face wrinkles in fury when I mention my mother, he gets angry and tells me to go to my room. He always seemed empty after she was gone, like he was haunted or lost. I wanted to remember her with him, like if we remembered together she would be there with us. We never spoke of her again.
“Still no pulse.”
After a few years, the pitying eyes and hugs became too suffocating, so we packed up and moved across the country. I knew no one and no one knew me, that was the way I wanted it. I didn’t have to be Layla, the girl with half a parent. I was the girl who learned not to need anyone, to take care of myself on my own.
“Should we call it?”
So I’m not Layla. I am Lillian. Lillian the new girl, her story still unwritten. Lillian who is beautiful and adored by everyone. Lillian who has a hundred friends and a perfect family. Lillian who has a charming life; she isn’t afraid of anyone and she doesn’t bow to anyone else. Lillian is fearless and brave and has control of the world around her.
“I’m looking for my daughter Layla, please, she was in a car accident.”
Selfish is what Lillian is. Lillian doesn’t seem to care about the deafening pain of those around her. Oh god, my dad, what will he think? He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need me screwing everything up.
“Sir, two girls just came in from an accident, but the friend said her name was Lillian.”
Layla is too complicated. Layla had too many holes in her from people that left or were barely even there. Layla is not ubiquitous, she’s a shadow on the wall. She never really had a childhood, and she’s never had a best friend. She spent her childhood holding up her father when he was too weak to stand on his own. She doesn’t mind being alone; in fact, she’s become a little too good at it.
“That could be her, she has multiple personality disorder. I need to see her and make sure she’s okay!” I heard sobbing in my ears. “Please don’t die on me, I can’t lose you too! Please, I’m so sorry.”
This isn’t the daughter he raised me to be, the one who knows right from wrong, the one who should have held his hand for a little longer rather than letting go too soon, the one who was supposed to grow up to be just like her mother. I’m sorry, I think. This is all my fault.
Accusation. Someone has to take the blame. I’m so sorry, I whisper to him in an attempt to hold him up one more time. Then I realize how meaningless it all is. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t make it any better, it doesn’t make this any easier. It’s just two simple words, seven letters. Why do people put so much pressure on seven little letters? Why do those words feel so heavy? We make them such a big deal, we beg to hear them from those we care most about. I guess it’s like how people put so much weight on “I love you”. It’s just a few words, a series of letters, strange sounds rolling off of a tongue. So why does it mean so much? They’re just words, after all. Just words. Sometimes I think the silence is more powerful.
“We’re losing her!” Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeep.
Life is happening right now, outside my head. Each action makes an impact; decisions cause ripples and experiences overlap. People are living, moving on, feeling all different kinds of emotions. Right now, each person is writing a story, filling up the pages of his or her life. But what happens when the pen runs out of ink?
***
“Our session is almost over, is there anything you would like to say before we wrap it up?” she asks once more, snapping me back to reality.
I haven’t said a word in the past hour; I just sat and watched the clock, consumed in my thoughts. “I’m sorry Dr. Klein, I have nothing to say.”
“That’s alright,” she smiles, tucking her pen away and flipping her notebook closed. “Part of understanding yourself is understanding why you chose to dissociate from your true personality. Little by little, you will begin to accept yourself again.”