(AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN…) GETTING HELP III [INTERLUDE]

Taylor’s days settled into an unexpected routine, one that felt unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcome. She woke each morning with the same hesitant energy, bracing herself for some unseen catastrophe waiting to unfold, yet nothing ever came. Instead, the ordinary kept happening, as stubborn and persistent as the sunrise.

Some mornings she found enough strength to go to school. She dressed with care, always trying to present herself as well as she could, and walked into Winslow with her shoulders squared and her posture as straight as she could manage, ready to face whatever the day held. 

And some mornings she simply could not do it. The thought of sitting in a classroom surrounded by people who watched her with a strange mixture of curiosity, unease, and confusion was far too much. So on those days she stayed home, curled up on the couch with a book or paced restlessly around the house, trying to let her thoughts settle.

Her father didn’t force her to go, and he rarely left for work without checking on her first, his gaze softer than it had been in years. He still did not know what she was dealing with, could not possibly understand the reality she woke up to each day, but he trusted her. He believed she was trying. And that mattered more than she expected, more than she could ever admit to herself.

The medical note from Jessica Yamada helped in ways neither of them had anticipated. With it, Winslow backed off completely. There were no questions from the administration, no passive-aggressive messages about attendance requirements, and no reminders that she was falling behind. Taylor had not expected to hear anything from them in the first place, but the silence still felt like a relief. The note gave her room to breathe, and she held onto that small mercy with gratitude.

Her weekly sessions with Jessica became the linchpin of her newfound routine. Each meeting felt easier than the one before. The quiet room, the gentle atmosphere, the calm presence of Jessica across from her, and the way she never judged or rushed her made Taylor feel safe in a way she couldn’t fully explain.

They spoke more about school, about her recent decisions, about her father, and how their relationship was better now. Something she didn't think would ever happen. Then, gradually, they began to talk about the future, which had always felt like an impossibly distant thing. However, Jessica brought it up with such care that Taylor found herself thinking about it in small, tentative ways. She still had no plans or ambitions or even a vague direction, but she was beginning to imagine the possibility of wanting something at all.

Jessica listened with her customary patience. Her questions were always gentle and thoughtful, guiding Taylor without ever steering her in a direction she did not want to go. She never pushed harder than Taylor could manage, and that restraint somehow made Taylor want to offer more.

It was after one particularly good session, one in which Jessica had asked what Taylor thought her life might look like five years from now, that something inside Taylor changed. She had been able to answer honestly, admitting that she had no idea, and yet the question lingered in her mind after she left the room. 

The conversation had left her unexpectedly hopeful, and as she walked down the warm hallway toward the exit, she realized that the lightness she felt after her first session had not been a one-time thing. With each meeting, the suffocating tightness she carried in her chest loosened just a little more, as though the weight she bore was slowly becoming manageable.

Maybe it was because her life had been strangely calm. Maybe it was because she was tired of hiding everything, tired of the secret that gnawed at her every day and every night. Or maybe it was because Jessica had shown her nothing but understanding, even when Taylor struggled to speak or make sense of her own feelings.

Whatever the reason, Taylor understood that something had changed.

She paused near the exit, letting her fingers brush lightly against the doorframe, and allowed herself a long, deep breath. Then she made a decision.

The next time they met, she would tell Jessica the truth.

She would tell her about the death loops.

She would finally say it out loud.