Two weeks had passed.
Kate didn't feel different.
She just knew where to sit now.
Same room. Same chairs. Same faint smell that never really went away. The circle was already half full when she walked in, voices low, familiar in a way that didn't feel real enough to matter.
She took her seat without thinking about it.
Third from the left.
Not too close. Not too far.
Anna sat in the middle, like always.
Same posture. Same calm expression. Hands resting loosely together, like nothing in the world could surprise her anymore.
Kate wondered if that was real.
Or just something you learned to fake.
"Alright," Anna said gently, once the room settled. "Last session."
A few people shifted.
One of the girls smiled, relieved. Someone else let out a quiet breath, like they'd been waiting for that.
Kate didn't react.
"Before we wrap things up," Anna continued, "I want us to reflect a little. Not just on what brought you here—but what you're leaving with."
Silence, at first.
Then the usual.
"I think I'm… better," the same girl from before said, hesitant but hopeful. "Like, I don't spiral as fast anymore."
Anna nodded.
"That's important."
Kate's gaze drifted.
Not to the floor this time.
Not to her hands.
To the empty space near the wall.
The chair was still there.
Slightly turned.
Like it had been left out of something on purpose.
She looked at it for a second longer than she meant to.
Then back.
"Kate?"
Of course.
Anna's voice was the same as always.
Soft. Patient.
Waiting.
"This is your last session too," she said. "Do you want to share anything?"
A few eyes turned again.
Less curious now.
More… familiar.
Like they already knew what the answer would be.
Kate held her gaze for a moment.
Longer than usual.
"I'm fine."
It came out steady.
Controlled.
Easy.
Anna didn't look convinced.
But she didn't challenge it either.
"Fine can mean a lot of things," she said.
Kate didn't respond.
The room shifted again, attention moving away from her, back into the circle, into safer conversations.
Words like progress.
Closure.
Moving forward.
Kate listened.
Or at least, she let the sound of it fill the space.
Closure.
That one stuck.
People talked about it like it was something you reached.
Like a door you could walk through.
And once you did—
that was it.
Done.
Kate glanced at the empty chair again.
Just for a second.
There was no door.
Just something unfinished.
Something that didn't move, didn't change, didn't disappear no matter how many times you sat in a circle and talked about it.
"Before we end," Anna said, drawing the room back together, "I want each of you to think about one thing you're taking with you from here."
A pause.
"Not what you're leaving behind," she added. "What you're keeping."
One by one, they answered.
Small things.
Careful things.
Safe things.
When it reached Kate again, Anna didn't say her name this time.
Just looked at her.
Kate felt it.
The expectation.
The space waiting to be filled.
She could say something.
Something simple.
Something that would make sense.
Something that would let this end the way it was supposed to.
Her fingers moved slightly against each other.
Unnoticed.
Her gaze dropped—
then lifted again.
"I'm not taking anything," she said.
The room stilled.
Just a little.
Anna tilted her head.
"Nothing?"
Kate shook her head.
"No."
A beat.
"Because nothing here changes anything."
No anger.
No emotion.
Just a statement.
Flat.
Final.
No one argued.
Anna watched her for a moment longer than usual.
Not pushing.
Not correcting.
Just… seeing.
"Sometimes it doesn't feel like it does," she said quietly.
Kate didn't answer.
Because feeling wasn't the problem.
Knowing was.
The session ended the way they all did.
Chairs shifting.
Quiet goodbyes.
The low hum of people stepping back into whatever waited for them outside.
Kate stood.
Didn't rush.
Didn't linger.
On her way out, she glanced at the chair one last time.
Still empty.
She looked away.
And kept walking.
As Kate already had her things packed, she reached for the handle of her suitcase and pulled it up. It felt a little heavier than it should've, but she didn't think about it.
She stepped out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind her. It was quieter now—no voices, no movement—just the faint echo of her footsteps and the low roll of the suitcase wheels against the floor.
Everything looked the same.
Like nothing had happened.
She pushed the exit door open, light spilling in through the glass.
The air outside was cooler.
Kate stepped out, pausing for just a second before adjusting her grip on the handle.
Then she started walking.
And then… a car rolled up beside her.
Kate slowed, the sound of tires against gravel pulling her out of her thoughts. The window rolled down slowly.
"Sam?"
The name slipped out before she could stop it.
Her face lit up instantly.
She didn't even wait.
By the time the door opened, Kate was already moving. Sam barely had time to step out before Kate threw her arms around her, holding on tight.
"Hey—" Sam laughed softly, caught off guard but steady as she hugged her back. "Easy there."
Kate didn't let go right away.
"Relax, little sis," Sam said after a moment, pulling back just enough to look at her. "I just thought I'd drive you back to Willow Creek."
"Between your college and all that stuff, you found time for little me?" Kate teased, a small smile still lingering.
Sam rolled her eyes, already turning back toward the car. She pulled the door open and slid into the driver's seat like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Get in," she said, glancing at Kate for a second. "Or I might change my mind."
Kate let out a quiet breath, shaking her head slightly before walking around to the passenger side. She opened the door, tossed her suitcase into the back, and got in, pulling it shut behind her.
The car felt warmer than outside.
Familiar, in a way she hadn't expected.
They started driving, the road stretching out ahead as Kate leaned back in her seat, trying—at least a little—to relax.
After a moment, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack. She tapped it lightly, slid a cigarette out, and cracked the window open.
"Don't smoke in my car!" Sam snapped immediately, eyes flicking toward her as soon as she saw the movement.
Kate rolled her eyes, already bringing the lighter up. The flame flickered, and a second later, the tip glowed.
"I'm technically crazy," she said, taking a slow drag. "So I can. Right?"
Sam stared at her for a second.
Then let out a sharp breath, tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
"Yeah? Then technically you can walk, too."
Kate smirked faintly, smoke slipping past her lips as she leaned her head slightly toward the open window.
"You wouldn't."
Sam didn't even hesitate.
"Try me."
A small pause.
Then, despite herself, Sam shook her head, muttering under her breath as she focused back on the road.
"You've been gone two weeks and you're already testing me…"
"I swear, Mom probably told you to come get me," Kate said, flicking ash out the window. "I've been here for a month. And I was home for, what—two days? Before they i went to therapy?"
Sam didn't answer right away.
Her eyes stayed on the road, jaw tightening just slightly.
"She didn't have to tell me," she said after a moment. "You disappearing like that was enough for me to be concerned."
Kate let out a quiet scoff, leaning back into the seat.
"I didn't disappear."
"Kate."
There was something in the way Sam said her name this time—flatter, heavier.
"You stopped answering. You didn't tell anyone where you were going. Then suddenly you're in some therapy program two hours away?" She exhaled through her nose. "Yeah. You disappeared after being gone for 8 months, suddenly you left again."
Kate didn't respond.
The cigarette burned quietly between her fingers.
"I didn't want to stay," she muttered finally, gaze fixed out the window. "I'd hate to hear Mom judge me."
Sam's grip tightened on the wheel again.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I figured."
A pause.
Then, softer—
"You could've told me."
"What, that I probably fell in love with someone," Kate snapped, turning her head slightly, "he found out I slept with a counselor and crashed into a fucking tree because of me?"
The words hit the air hard.
Too fast. Too sharp.
Like she hadn't meant to say them out loud.
Sam's foot eased off the gas for a second.
Not enough to stop.
Just enough.
"…What?"
It wasn't loud.
It was worse than that.
Kate's jaw tightened immediately, like she was already trying to take it back.
"Nothing."
"Kate."
Sam's voice shifted—lower, controlled, but there was something under it now. Something tense.
"You don't get to say something like that and then just—what, pretend it didn't happen?"
Kate looked away again, fast.
Out the window. Anywhere but at her.
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" Sam shot back, sharper now. "Because from where I'm sitting, that sounds pretty damn serious."
Silence.
Heavy.
Kate brought the cigarette back to her lips, inhaling like that would fix it. Like that would give her something to hold onto.
"It doesn't matter," she said finally, quieter this time. "It's over."
Sam let out a slow breath, eyes still fixed on the road.
"No," she said. "It doesn't sound like it is."
"Whatever," Kate muttered, her voice dropping flat again. "Just drive this whore to her ex future boyfriend."
She pointed at herself, a hollow smirk pulling at her lips.
"Before she changes her mind and jumps out of this fucking car."
Sam didn't answer.
Not right away.
The only sound was the road beneath them, steady, indifferent.
Her hands stayed tight on the wheel.
Jaw set.
Eyes forward.
"Don't call yourself that," she said finally, quiet but firm.
Kate let out a short, humorless breath, turning her head back toward the window.
"Why not? Everyone else does."
That one lingered.
Hung in the space between them.
Sam didn't respond this time.
Because there wasn't an easy answer.
Outside, the road kept going.
Unchanged.
Inside, neither of them said another word.
And Kate didn't jump.
But for a second—
it felt like she might have.