Within Amelia's Mind

The next morning, the weight of the night hung over Amelia like a thick fog. She had barely slept, her mind replaying everything—Charlotte's words, the crack in her own armor, the brief moment of clarity she'd felt. The feeling lingered, even as the harsh reality of her actions pressed in. She had promised Derek she'd come back, but something about that felt too much for her to handle right now. She needed something else—someone else.

And Charlotte... Charlotte had seen something. Something that, for once, didn't feel like pity or judgment.

Amelia needed to talk to her.

Her feet moved before her mind could catch up, the distance between her house and the hospital becoming a blur. She didn't know what she expected—maybe Charlotte wouldn't even be there, maybe she wouldn't want to talk to her after everything. But Amelia was already walking, the need to reach out pushing her forward like a current.

When she stepped into the hospital lobby, the cold, sterile air hit her, and for a moment, she felt the familiar weight of anxiety clawing at her. But she was already here, and she didn't know where else to go.

She walked to the front desk, hesitating only for a second before asking, "Is Dr. Charlotte King around?"

The receptionist gave her a look—curious, assessing—and Amelia braced herself for whatever response came next. But the receptionist simply nodded.

"She's in the trauma ward today, but I can let her know you're here if you'd like."

Amelia nodded, swallowing hard. "Please."

She felt out of place, sitting in the sterile waiting area, hands nervously twisting in her lap. The seconds ticked by slowly. She couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong here—that Charlotte would look at her like everyone else did: broken, too much. But she had to try. She had to.

Minutes later, Charlotte appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in scrubs, her expression serious but not unwelcoming. When she saw Amelia, her face softened slightly, though she didn't make a move to come closer just yet.

"You actually showed up," Charlotte said with a half-smile, though her eyes were sharp, reading Amelia like an open book.

Amelia stood, wiping her palms on her jeans. "Yeah, I— I just needed to talk."

Charlotte nodded. "Come on." She motioned toward a nearby hallway. "Let's get some space. We can talk in my office."

Amelia followed her, the click of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hospital.

Charlotte's office was small but comfortable—nothing flashy, just a desk, a couple of chairs, and some bookshelves full of medical texts. Charlotte closed the door behind them and motioned for Amelia to sit.

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence pressing in around them.

Amelia wasn't sure how to start. She wasn't even sure why she was here, other than a desperate need to unload, to say something before she exploded.

Finally, Charlotte broke the silence. "Why did you come here, Amelia?"

Amelia opened her mouth, but the words didn't come. She closed it again, taking a shaky breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I just... I don't feel like I have anyone else to talk to."

Charlotte's gaze softened. "You have Derek. You have your family."

Amelia shook her head, her voice low. "They don't get it. They don't understand why I can't just be better. Why I keep messing everything up." She paused, staring at her hands. "I don't even understand why. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Charlotte didn't rush to answer. She just sat there, watching Amelia with an intensity that made Amelia feel both exposed and... understood.

"You're not broken, Amelia." Charlotte's voice was calm, grounded. "But you're struggling. And it's okay to admit that. It's okay to not have all the answers right now."

Amelia swallowed, blinking hard. "But I can't keep pretending I'm okay when I'm not. And I don't know how to fix it."

Charlotte leaned forward, her eyes locking with Amelia's. "You don't have to fix everything all at once. And you don't have to do it alone. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to try. And that's enough."

Amelia felt a tightness in her chest as Charlotte's words sank in, something softening inside her, like the edges of the world were blurring and maybe, just maybe, she could breathe for the first time in a long while.

"I don't know how to try," she whispered.

Charlotte gave a small, reassuring smile. "Then we'll figure it out together. One step at a time. But you have to let people help you, Amelia. You can't do this on your own."

The vulnerability in her voice made Amelia's heart beat faster. It wasn't easy to admit—hell, it wasn't even easy to think—but somewhere, deep inside her, Amelia knew Charlotte was right.

She didn't have to do it alone.

It wasn't much, but it was enough for now.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy," Charlotte added, her tone soft but firm. "But it's worth it. You're worth it."

Amelia sat in the chair, staring at the floor, her mind racing. Maybe Charlotte wasn't just talking about the therapy, or the pills, or the fixes. Maybe she was talking about Amelia.

And that felt like the first piece of hope she'd had in a long time.

"I'll try," Amelia whispered. "I'll try."

Charlotte nodded. "That's all anyone can ask."

And for the first time in a long time, Amelia felt the smallest crack in the armor she'd built up around herself. It wasn't fixed, not yet. But maybe, just maybe, it was a start.