Within Amelia's Mind

The walk back home was longer than it had felt in days, but this time, the silence wasn't oppressive. It wasn't filled with the usual rushing thoughts or the constant dread that came with the space between her and the people she loved.

For the first time in a long while, Amelia felt like she had just done something for herself. She had spoken up. She had admitted the truth—about her addiction, her struggles—and someone, someone who had been through it herself, had listened. That had to mean something, right?

But as she walked up the steps to the house, the familiar heaviness settled back in. She was home. And it wasn't the comforting place it used to be. It was a place filled with unspoken tension, a place that held the weight of her mistakes and her running away. It was a place where she knew Derek was waiting, probably pacing, probably worrying.

She wasn't ready for that. She wasn't ready to face him.

The door creaked open before she could fully reach for the handle. Derek stood in the doorway, his face etched with concern. His eyes immediately scanned her, taking in her appearance—still disheveled, still a little too thin, a little too tense. He was waiting for something—an explanation, a reason.

Amelia didn't know where to start.

"Amelia," Derek's voice was soft, almost hesitant, like he was afraid of pushing her too hard. "Where did you go? I've been calling you."

She stood frozen on the doorstep, unable to meet his gaze. "I—I just needed to clear my head," she said, the lie falling out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Derek's brows furrowed, a look of concern deepening on his face. "You didn't answer any of my messages. You've been gone all night. What happened? You don't just disappear without telling anyone. We—" His voice wavered slightly. "I was worried."

Amelia flinched at the look in his eyes, at the concern that still lingered there despite everything. She wanted to tell him what had happened. She wanted to tell him she had gone to Charlotte's, that she had talked, that for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was starting to understand herself. But the words felt too big, too heavy.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Derek took a step closer, his hand reaching out but stopping just shy of touching her. He knew better than to try to fix it, not yet. "Amelia," he said gently, "we need to talk. I don't want you to keep running away from us."

She could feel the ache in her chest grow, the tightness of her own defenses threatening to come back. Her mind flashed to everything she'd told Charlotte—the painkillers, the feeling of needing to escape, the addiction she couldn't seem to outrun.

And for a brief moment, she wanted to tell Derek about it all. She wanted to say everything she had been holding back—the shame, the guilt, the fear. But she was still afraid.

Derek sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. "I know you're going through something, Amelia. But you have to let me in. You can't keep pushing me away."

Her throat tightened, the words caught in her chest. She opened her mouth, but no sound came. She could see it in his eyes—the hurt, the uncertainty. It cut through her like a knife.

"I'm trying," she whispered. "I just... I don't know how to fix it."

Derek's eyes softened, and finally, he took the step forward he had been holding back, gently placing his hand on her arm. "You don't have to fix it, Amelia. You just need to take the next step. Whatever that looks like. And I'll be here. With you. Every step of the way."

Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of his words pulling her under. She could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to break down again.

But, god, she was so tired.

She stepped into the house, her movements slow, like her body was fighting against her every instinct to retreat. Derek didn't pull away. He stayed by her side, his presence like an anchor. It was strange, being close to him again, so close, when everything in her had screamed to push him away.

But maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to do that anymore.

"I went to see Charlotte," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I talked to her. About... everything."

Derek's eyes shifted slightly, a flash of surprise passing over his face. "And? What did she say?"

"She said it's okay not to be okay," Amelia said softly. "And that I don't have to fix it alone."

Derek's eyes softened. He nodded slowly. "And you don't, Amelia. You don't have to do it alone."

The words hung in the air, a lifeline. Amelia didn't know what would happen next. She didn't know how long it would take to put the pieces of herself back together, or if she ever would. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn't facing it all by herself.

Derek was there.

And maybe, just maybe, she was ready to let him help.