She works in the factory a few towns over, which is one of the few job options around here. The thing is, the idea of leaving the house makes tears form in my eyes. For weeks now, since I’ve been back in Willow Creek Valley, I haven’t left unless it was to see the doctor. I’ve been here, and no one really knows I am in town other than my mother, my sister Winnie, and Delia. Going out and seeing others will solidify that I failed and had to come back.

Going to get food early, though, might be the safest way to ease myself out.

My therapist has been trying to encourage me to take one small step, and in the back of my mind, I hear Dr. Warvel saying, “Take the hand outstretched when you’re weak and let it lend you strength.”

I gnaw on my thumbnail, take two deep breaths, and reply.

Me: Sure, but you’ll have to pick me up. You know, TBI and all means no driving.

Until the fainting, debilitating migraines, and periods of confusion go away, I’m not allowed to drive, ride a bike, or do anything that could throw my equilibrium off. Yet another awesome side effect of my plane crash.

Delia: Be there in fifteen.

More like ten if I know her driving. I head back inside and throw on a sweatshirt, brush my hair and teeth, and sigh as I see my reflection in the mirror. The dreams may make me feel as if it were just yesterday, but all my visible injuries have healed.

There are no more bruises on my face, and the scar from where they had to drain the fluid from my brain is still healing but hidden beneath my hair. My ribs are still healing, but again, that isn’t something you would look at me and know. To anyone on the street, I look like the same Jessica Walker who was ready to take the world by storm.

Inside, however, I’m something else.

I’m broken.

I can’t always speak correctly, I can’t drive, and I will probably never be able to fly again due to the air pressure changes.

Being here is a different sort of pressure. The kind that gives me a whole other thing to be anxious about, the boy I left. The man he’s become and the people who made me feel small, all of them are still here and probably salivating over the chance to be cruel.

“She’s not good enough. She’ll never fit in to do more than scrub the floors. You’ll see, she’ll never amount to anything and will end up just like her mother.”

I hear the words, the voice of a woman so disgusted with the idea of being in my presence, playing in my head like a lyric that won’t be forgotten.