5 Dear Holden,

Whenever I could, I avoided the Common Area, which was no small feat. We were required to spend all our free time there. When I couldn't sneak back to my room, I stuck by you as we racked our brains for something time wasting to do. At some point we became kind of cool? Like genuine acquaintances, not paired by obligation. It was nice. We'd play a game that was supposed to tell our futures; according to you I would've had been married to Emma Watson (but not in a gay way), owned a motorcycle and birthed six children by adulthood. Hey, maybe it could still happen. Ha, I can't write sarcasm properly. When it was your turn to play, you somehow  managed to get away with zero answers. Zero wasn't even an option??

Every morning there seemed to be new people having left, and more arriving. There was a girl named Kurt who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She filled the empty bed in our room, and kind of hovered around our duo as she adjusted to the new scene. For a girl she was rather handsome, short haired, and tall.

Kurt was friendly enough, introducing a game of truth or dare when the afternoon careened towards evening, the time of day when most girls threw fits. The Common Area could only be described as blank, a stretch of white walls and stained flooring, only large enough to house about seven girls, and a terrifying place when Kurt dimmed the lighting. The hallway light stayed on, so it felt like we were all locked in while everyone else went about their business.

Still, when Kurt called for a gathering, we all arranged our chairs in a circle, reminiscent of Group Therapy. Even the Cool Volunteer ™ sat towards the back, tilting a little in her chair in the laxed way of one good at relating to the youths. With her suave manner, Kurt stood in the middle, explaining the rules of this game. Or more so like the limits, since we couldn't exactly do much within the psych ward. For the most part I sat out on the questioning and flat out refused any dares. It was enough entertainment to watch everyone else. Since we were all teen girls, the truths bordered along invasive if not outright obscene.

As the evening climbed and crested, we'd all gotten bored of swapping stories and the amount of dares being accepted increased. My limit shorted when the paper ouija was brought out, and I nudged you in that silently loaded way we communicated. We ambushed the Volunteer, requesting to retire to our room early. She appeared distracted by the current proceedings, enough to wave us away without suspicion.

Once we were out of eyeshot you slung a surprisingly  amicable arm around my shoulders. I flinched under the touch but you didn't relent. Instead your eyes flicked to my face as if trying to parse the meaning behind my reaction. If you were able to, you didn't let on, but I was able to pick up on your guilty expression  last minute, right as we stopped before our room.

We weren't alone. Occupying your bed were two girls, one of them bug eyed and unsettlingly familiar, crowned with box braids that were barely covered by a silk scarf. The other was red headed and pale as quartz, seemingly having been interrupted in the middle of a tirade. On my bed... a scarecrow skinny boy lounged, fiddling with his striped polo and avoiding my gaze. I wasn't interested in making this confrontation easy for him though, not if it absolutely needed to happen.

It didn't occur to me to question the real reason why you brought this particular audience, but I don't think that's a question that'll be left hanging for long. Call it a hunch, or call it a renewed and much more suspicious perspective regarding your moral character. This note is supposed to center me taking responsibility for my past actions, and I own that. Yet I can't shake the feeling that I might not be the only one keeping secrets.

As if privy to my thoughts, the boy stumbled off my bed, nearly tangling his waist in the cheap bedsheet. He was so different, Holden. Like, I still can't place when I first noticed. Maybe it was the grin he greeted me with? Sheepish yes, but not as restrained as even his most genuine smiles used to be. He was taller too, and the way his face sloped had been defined with a stronger chin and more graceful slope of nose, as if he went through an accelerated puberty. Maybe he did. All this served to do was accelerate my temper, and I marched over to swing a fist, meeting flesh. His head turned by the amount of force, but he didn't retaliate like I was hoping.

Rye turned his blood shot eyes towards my own, rubbing his cheek as he asked for forgiveness.

It took me far too long to respond but I was thankfully able to adjust accordingly.

"You want me to forgive you? Hey! Hey remember that time you ditched me while the goddamn police took me away? Remember that? But please, by all means tell me what you've done to earn my forgiveness."

I was so sure of my impenetrable defences, and yet Rye looked upon me with pity. I faltered. There was so much I wanted to say, whole speeches prepared, and within not even five minutes it was all dismantled without trying. Rye just looked so pathetic, like a dog expecting to be put down. He knew what he was doing too. Rye bumbled towards me, and before I could say anything to the contrary, he embraced me. And despite everything I hugged him back, and let him talk.

"After you were taken away, everything fell apart. The Father said we have to have the ceremony right then and there- he brought out these vats of "wine" but this time it wasn't a drill or anything. The little kids drank first from sippy cups, then their parents. Some parents tried attacking Him. They were shot, and the ones who surrendered were the next to drink."

The Higher Ups went last, and I didn't know what to do. I've never been so scared of a drink in my life I swear. It was too thick to be wine, and had this layer of file that looked like spit. I was lucky enough to get at The Father since he wasn't expecting me, though I don't think I killed him. I hitchhiked for a while, was apprehended and well... fate brought me here I guess."

I could feel you stare the two of us down, so it wasn't surprising when you interjected, asking,

"So are you guys done or uh."

We separated. The reconciliation between Rye and I left me confident enough to meet your other two friends without messing again.