❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
Carter rolled her eyes at the tone in the doctor’s voice. She was cold and shaking, waning nothing more than to get back to the college apartments and feel her high once again. School had taken a back seat to her new found habit, the once straight A student was now pulling B’s and C’s. Teddy’s voice sounded like a high pitch whistle in Carter’s ears, causing the brunette to wince for a small second. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I don’t want anyone’s help and that I’m completely fine?” Carter growled, wanting to rip the IV from her arm. “I’m not letting them define me, Doc. They’re just helping me live,” she offered Teddy a smart ass grin.
“Look at me, Carter,” Teddy said quietly, eyes sober
and grave. “Are you honestly saying that this is the life you want for yourself? Because if that’s the case, I’ll leave you be. Help only works for
the people who want it.” Taping the IV in place, she had to resist an inexplicable urge to push Carter’s hair back like she would her own daughter’s.
Call her a soldier; call it a savior complex — Teddy couldn’t help her want to
save this girl from herself. She saw it all in Carter’s eyes, some sort of woeful desperation behind the euphoria of her high; with a new kind of openness in her voice, Teddy smiled sadly: “You were always such a good girl. It’s not
too late to go back.”
