My car can't carry me away fast enough. The streetlamps lining the streets are only blurs of light across my vision, distorted by the wells of tears in my eyes. My chest thrums painfully with floods of sadness. Pressure fills my head, stuffed full with spiraling, intrusive thoughts.

I have to get away. I have to get away. I have to get away.

I press my foot as far down as it will go. The world speeds past me until I can hardly see the road in front of me. Even then, I just keep driving. Clutching the steering wheel, I fly through the night, away from everything I've ever known.

Away from Gray.

Just like that, it hits me all over again. My world is deteriorating around me, crushing me under its weight, and I left the one person who was there to hold me together. The man who gave his all to love me in the midst of my unbearable pain.

I just left him there. I left him. I left him.

Gray's name echoes in my mind, and every part of me aches.

He was always afraid of ruining me with his demons and his past. Now, look at us. Who would have ever guessed that I'd be the one running from him out of pure fear, breaking both our hearts in the process?

A scream tears out of my throat and I pound on the steering wheel, sobbing loudly. I just keep screaming at the top of my lungs. I scream even as my throat burns painfully, filling my car with my own sounds of pure agony. I deserve this pain, this fire building in my body, consuming me from the inside out.

The screaming does nothing to ease the anguish I feel in my heart. I cry even harder, and my shoulders heave with the massive sobs.

"Why?" I cry to myself, pressing my hand over my mouth in sorrow. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

With a shaky hand, I grab my phone from the passenger seat. I dial Dr. Bahkta and try to steady my cries as my phone rings.

I yell in anger when it goes to voicemail. I slam it against my dashboard and hardly flinch when I hear the screen crack.

I pick it back up and realize it's still working. Fighting against the debilitating pain in my head, I try to type a text message to Dr. Bahkta.

I know it's late but are you free to ta

I don't get to finish the text. Something brown blurs across the windshield, and I look up just in time to see a deer crossing right in front of me. I slam on my brakes hard.

The seatbelt cuts across my chest, and I feel it digging painfully into my skin. My neck whips forward as the car comes to a sudden stop, and I cry out. I hear something fly from the passenger seat onto the floorboards.

My car stops inches from the animal.

It just stares at me, stopping in its tracks for a mere second before continuing on its merry way.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, but I'm already numb. So I just start laughing. I laugh with all my body, falling forward onto the steering wheel. The sounds come from the depths of my chest, bubbling out of me in a terrifying manner. I laugh loudly, painfully.

Then the laughs turn to cries. Then back to sobs. Until I'm just crying in my car in the middle of a deserted road, so absolutely drained of everything inside.

The look on Gray's face as I walked into the elevator. The tender way he'd touched my bare body just minutes before. The love in the voice that he spoke to me with, even as I was pulling away from him.

He loves me so fucking much. And I just did everything in my power to make him feel stupid for doing so.

He was there for me, holding me with all his might as I self-destructed. And I threw those efforts right back in his face.

What have I done?

I cry and scream until my eyes run dry and my throat feels like sandpaper. Leaning back in my seat, I focus my gaze on the world outside—the world that is still spinning and moving on even as I destroy my life piece by piece.

It's so quiet. So dark. And I'm so far from home.

I guess this is what I wanted—to get away from everyone and everything I knew. To reinvent myself apart from the girl I used to be. By running away, I hoped I'd feel stronger, freed from the mental chains that have bound me for the past nineteen years.

I thought maybe I'd find the real River, one independent of those around her.

Parked on this windy road, I should feel liberated. But all I feel is lost--more lost than I've ever known possible. I thought that I'd always been alone--weathering through the neglect of my parents--but the loneliness that fills me right now is unlike anything I've ever experienced. And that's when I realize something.

This is it. I've pushed the love of my life away, and I'm finally truly, completely alone.

What the hell are you doing, River?

I look over to the passenger seat, where I once sat naked wrapped in Gray's embrace. Where I promised him that I wasn't going anywhere, that it was just him and I forever. I lied to him.

My head falls as more sobs threaten to well up. But my eye catches on the thing that fell on the floor, something blue. Gray's notebook.

I wipe my face and unbuckle my seatbelt, holding onto the sliver of hope balancing on whatever is in this notebook. For weeks, I've watched as Gray filled pages upon pages in this notebook, writing about things I could only dream of seeing through his eyes. He always held the utmost focus when he was writing in this.

Now it sits in my unworthy hands. A regular blue composition notebook filled with the mind of Grayson Elias Maddox. Holding it in my hands, I realize just how broken he must have been to have given this up. Gray sacrificed this just for the small hope that it may change my mind and make me stay with him.

My heavy tears splash and sink into the pages as I open the notebook. The very first page is filled with his boyish script, slightly messy but beautiful all the same. It's dated back a few months, just before my birthday. Just before the car accident.

Before I read it, I run my fingers over the writing, just as I did with the many notes he once gave me. I imagine that it's him that my hands are touching, running over and memorizing every fine detail of.

I surprise myself, letting out a genuine laugh when I read the first line.

Honestly, fuck this shit.

Today was my fifth session with Dr. Vogel, and this asshole is already assigning me homework. I thought therapy was supposed to be laying on a couch and crying to a stranger, not writing about my feelings in a fucking notebook.

I reread those words, trying to make sense of them. Gray only told me about his therapy on the day that he came to my graduation. But, looking at the date of this entry, I realize that he must've started therapy before my birthday. Before the car crash.

Gray wanted to get better even before we broke up. Way before I started going to therapy myself. I let a few tears fall as I connect the dots, realizing that he was weathering his mental health journey alone, trying to work through his problems without ever burdening me.

I keep reading.

But here I am. I have no idea if this shit will actually help, but I'm willing to try anything at this point.

I need to be the best man I can be for Gracie. For River.

Vogel said that I should be able to fill pages and pages with thoughts, but I don't have anything else to say.
Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I'm too fucked-up to ever be healed.

I knew this was a stupid idea.

I'm in shock, stunned by the words I'm reading. The page absorbs me, thrusting me into Gray's mind, the mind that was apparently pining for a way to heal. My own pain seems to dim, and his thoughts are all that occupy my attention.

And those thoughts are strikingly similar to mine.

My eyes tear across the next journal entry, dated for the following week.

Fuck Dr. Vogel. That piece of shit spends a few hours talking to me, and he suddenly thinks he knows everything about me. He says he's only trying to help, but it feels like he's just prying into my brain, searching for anything to hold against me. I swear, he thinks he's better than me.

Fuck him.

He loves to talk to me about my dad. Thinks he's helping me by bringing up my shitty past. I mean, he never tells me to talk about them, just asks me question after question until I'm suddenly dishing everything to him. How my dad abused me. How my mom killed herself. And while I tell him everything, Vogel just sits there writing in his stupid fucking notepad.

Vogel says that I think I'm my dad. He thinks I punish myself by acting recklessly and self-destructively, all because I view myself as my sick father.

He asked me what I thought about his analysis. I told him I wanted to punch him. That's when it hit me.

I enjoy hurting people because my father hurt me. When he left, I had no one to take my pain out on—the pain that he instilled in me.

I just want to hurt my dad for what he did to me. For turning me into the monster I am today.

So I take my pain out on others. Physically. I lose control, and all I can think about is my father being the one bleeding by my fists.

Vogel's right. I really am one twisted motherfucker.

The last time I talked about this shit, I was with Riv on the cliff. That was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I told her everything. When I admitted to her that I was afraid of becoming my father, Riv told me that I was nothing like him. Today, Vogel told me the exact same thing.

I wish I believed them.

More tears drip onto the page, smudging the writing in a few places. Every single word feels like a slice through my chest--painful reminders of Gray's destructive thought process, his lack of belief in himself. But my focus is on a single sentence.

Riv told me that I was nothing like him.

I bend over the steering wheel as I process that memory. I'd forgotten that I said that to him that day on the mountain as he was breaking down in front of me, attempting to wedge his past between us and push me away. I remember saying those words so adamantly, wanting so badly for him to believe me.

Less than an hour ago, as I was breaking down and venting my sadness to him, Gray said those exact words to me. He held me in his arms then assured me that I was not my mother.

You're nothing like that woman.

And I just brushed him off, using my pain as a shield against my love for him. I left.

The world feels surreal around me, coming into focus for the first time in days. My head is swimming again, overloaded with millions of overlapping, contradicting thoughts. My car feels suffocatingly small, closing in on me as my mind grows fuller and fuller.

I have to get out.

I pull myself out of the car, taking nothing but the notebook and a flashlight. The fresh air envelopes me, and I feel an ounce better. The road seems unsteady beneath me, coming in and out of focus, but I force myself to look around and take in my open surroundings.

When I see a familiar sign across the street, it seems almost too coincidental to be true. It's the parking lot for the trail Gray and I hiked, the one leading up to the cliff where his mother took her life. It's only then that I realize just how far I've driven.

The memories of this mountain flood me, and I pull a small flashlight from my keychain. With the notebook clutched to my side, I run across the road and parking lot, heading straight for the trailhead. For the third time, I start running up the mountain. For the first time, tears run down my face as I do so. It's pitch black outside, and only the stars illuminate my path.

My hand shakes as I click on the flashlight. Its glow is small but steady. I just keep walking.

I feel physically and mentally weak as I struggle up the incline. Gone are the thrill and excitement I felt the first two times I made this trek. Blood pumps loudly in my ears, keeping me from fully acknowledging the terrifying silence that surrounds me. Gravel crunches beneath my steps, and I try my best to steady my frantic breaths.

I read his notebook as I forge through the dark forest, one wary step at a time. It's pages and pages detailing the evolution of his thoughts as he goes through therapy. The progress is slow but noticeable, and it feels like I'm on the journey with him as Gray builds block after block of his self-confidence and individuality away from his father.

Every word of his resonates deep inside me, reflecting my own feelings toward my mother. I linger the flashlight over one page, focusing on one particular sentence.

My father's blood runs through my veins, but I can't let him rule any other part of my life.

I hang onto that line, flipping it over in my mind over, trying to believe it for myself. I imagine telling Gray this exact thing--that he's nothing like that deadbeat, abusive father of his--and asking with all my heart that he believe me. Then I imagine him telling me the exact same thing about my mother:

My mother's blood runs through my veins, but I can't let her rule any other part of my life.

Gray and I both yearn to convince the other of their worth, yet we both struggle to believe in our own. I laugh into the darkness at the cruel irony of it all. Then it clicks.

I know that Gray is not his father. But to truly believe in that fact, I must also believe that I am not my mother.

I am not my mother.

I will never be my mother.

I am not my mother.

I laugh again, following that sound with a few more gutwrenching sobs as I think about how much I've given up by not believing that fact. How reckless I've been to be willing to throw everything away--to throw Gray away--just to escape a mother that has been trying to control my life from the beginning.

I had all that I could've ever needed, and I've ruined everything. My emotions scatter even more as I realize that my name comes up on every page. Sometimes he writes down a memory of the two of us, a split-second observation of my smile or eyes or laugh. Reading those entries make me ache with longing for him, for his eyes and hands on me.

But I've given that all up.

Sometimes Gray just writes about how much he loves me, how much of his heart I hold in my hands. Those pages have the most smudge marks, remnants of my heartbroken tears. Every mention of our love is a stark reminder of what I did to tear us apart, to crush his heart between the very hands that he entrusted to care for it.

I let him go.

The trees around me distort time, and I lose track of how long I've been walking. My feet feel heavy, barely able to carry me any further. The air feels thinner, hardly filling my lungs with enough oxygen. My head is light.

River isn't a rock in just my life. Gracie finally has a strong woman to look up to and to feel loved by.

Gray's words run through my head, torturing me with their absolute love for me. I read line after line, holding onto his words as the one thing I'm absolutely sure of.

As long as she's the first thing I hold in the morning and the last thing I see at night, I somehow know that everything will be okay.

My legs give out beneath me and I collapse onto the dirt as I read this entry over repeatedly. My brain fizzes out, failing to fully comprehend everything.

Whenever I rest my eyes on her, my entire body is set ablaze. She's in my veins, keeping this dark heart of mine alive.

The ground is spinning in my vision, threatening to tilt and drop me off the side of the earth. The silence of the trees suddenly feels like a tsunami assaulting my ears, drowning my senses.

The empty air is closing in on me. The thin air infiltrates my lungs, shrinking them until I can hardly take a full breath.

I close my eyes, shutting out the darkness around me. I part my lips, trying to draw in shaky breaths, but nothing seems to be working.

Five things you see.

As hard as I try, grey eyes are the only things I can imagine. Grey eyes on me. Always.

Four things you feel.

Strong hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me in. Protecting me.

Soft lips pressing on mine. Our very first kiss, so tentative. Then his lips everywhere, on every inch of my skin, admiring me. Loving me.

His palm against the skin of my thigh, giving me strength as I speed down the race track.

A gentle hand grasping my chin. Calming me down and grounding me. Another soft kiss.

Three things you hear.

I.

Love.

You.

Two things you smell.

The masculine aroma of his cologne. Sticking to my skin and clothes, a silent reminder that he's always with me.

The scent of our love floating through the air of his bedroom as we lay naked in the dark, twined around one another. Absolute peace.

Now one thing you taste.

Him.

Deep breaths, babe. I'm right here.

The notebook falls into my lap, opening to an entry on one of the last pages. I don't know if I can handle reading on, but I force myself to.

His writing is neater, less rushed than the last entries. I let my tears sink into the dirt around me as I read. Running my fingers back over his writing, I find myself calming down. In a way, if I hold the notebook tight enough, I can almost imagine that he's here with me right now.

With a deep breath, I keep reading.

Earlier today, Vogel asked me when I feel most free from my father and the answer came to me in an instant.

It's always been her.

River makes me feel like I'm my own person. Whenever I'm with her, the past seems so insignificant. All that matters is that very moment, with her wrapped in my arms, and the life ahead of me with her by my side. She makes me forget that the darkness ever controlled me.

She's pure light. She represents everything worth fighting for.

With her, I'm not my father's son or the boy who killed his mother. I'm just Gray. Her Gray.

In his darkest moments, my dad used to tell me that I didn't have a future, that I'd never amount to anything. His words rang in the back of my mind for the longest time, and I believed them. I let them control me.

But now, when Vogel asks me what I see in my future, I finally have an answer. I see her.

River will be my wife one day. I know that for a fact, and I can't fucking wait.

I always told myself that I needed to be a better man for her. I thought I needed to suffer alone to finally become the man my father never believed I could be. But I failed to realize something:

Being with her makes me a better man.

At first, I was afraid that I'd hurt her by dragging her into my fucked-up life. That I'd be weak to rely on her for support. But I know that I'm not pulling her down--she's pulling me out. Loving her makes me stronger, strong enough to conquer this battle of mine.

She's my future. And holy shit, from where