Like I said, no half measures. Not where my brother was concerned. He needed help that he never received. Cecilia needs that, too. Help. I see that clear as fucking day.
Talking to her at the pool and realizing she still wants out... it lit something in me. Something I won’t allow myself to second-guess.
I couldn’t help my brother. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to help her. Like it or not. Her opinion is irrelevant on the matter.
People don’t know what they need. And if she’s anything like Carlos, she’s living in denial. Pretending the shit in her head is manageable. She might know she has a problem. Might even want to get better. But you don’t get better without help. It doesn’t work like that. She’s going to have to put her pride aside and suck it up.
I don’t know what her damage is. Maybe there’s some truth to what Holt said. Chicks can take it hard when their feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe this is all about a breakup or unrequited love. Suicide seems like an extreme response, and Cecilia seems levelheaded—suicide attempt notwithstanding—but what do I know?
Bullying could've played a part. Austin mentioned there was some of that.Slut-shaming.People can be cruel. Maybe it just all added up.
Whatever her reasons, I’ll figure it out. Once I make a decision, I’m all in. Failure isn’t an option.
It took me four fucking days to get here. Three days too many, if you ask me. But I can be patient—when I have to be—and I’m damn resourceful.
My counselor flat-out refused my initial request to be transferred into Cecilia’s classes. She wouldn’t even pull up her schedule to see if any of them lined up with my degree program. You should’ve seen the look on her face when I asked. Complete and utter shock followed by swift disappointment.
That's when the reprimands started. She scolded me for a full five minutes, like I was a ten-year-old boy with a schoolyard crush who just wanted to hang out with my girlfriend.
Yeah, no.
When she finally stopped laying into me, just long enough to take a breath, I explained the situation. I told her about Cecilia’s suicide attempt. Most of the faculty know what happened thissummer since it took place on campus. They just don't know the who.
Another line I ran right the fuck over. Zero hesitation. I don’t make it a habit to share other people's shit. It’s not my style. But I needed the woman on my side. To understand why this was more than a simple request. It was goddamn necessary. Life and death shit.
Cecilia can’t be trusted. She’s a flight risk intent on making it to the other side.
But did saying all that do me a shred of good? Nope.
My counselor was calm. Understanding. She placated me with comments like, “That's very considerate of you,” and “Cecilia is lucky to have you in her corner.”
What a joke. She said all the right things, almost had me convinced she was on my side, until the moment she shut me down, spouting some bullshit about privacy policies and respecting boundaries. It’s like the woman didn’t hear a damn thing I said.
That's when I looked up her parents. It was easy enough. There aren’t a lot of Russos in Richland. None actually, aside from Alessandro and Valentina Russo and their daughter.
They seem nice. Happily married. The mom works part time at a veterinary clinic. The dad is our city mayor. Go figure. I’ve seen the guy on T.V. a few times and he seems decent. No scandals on record. He’s a moderate. One of those,let’s all get alongtypes.
Both were a little wary when I showed up on their doorstep the other day. But once I mentioned Cecilia and explained I was the one to find her, any hesitation in talking to me went right out the window.
Her mom hugged me. Then she broke down and cried on my shoulder, smearing tears and snot all over my shirt. The dad had to literally pry her off me and wrap her in his arms tokeep her from lunging for me again. She was so damn grateful. Wouldn't stop thanking me for saving her baby girl. To say I was uncomfortable would be putting it mildly, but if I wasn't already committed, their reaction cinched it.
Once Mrs. Russo calmed down, I told them my plan. She was quick to jump on board. Cecilia’s dad was more reserved, but nodded his agreement by the end.
Mrs. Russo contacted my counselor, letting her know she supported my decision to transfer into her daughter’s classes. She knows her daughter's schedule, so if my counselor had objected a third time, Plan B was to get a new one and make the request without letting slip why I wanted the transfer.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to go that route.
The problem is, seeing Cecilia for two hours a day isn’t enough to pull her out of herself. She needs to get out more. Go and do things. See people.
She needs to remember what it’s like to live her life again.
From what her parents tell me, she hides in her room all day, isolating herself from her peers. She’s been a hermit since they picked her up from the clinic, and that shit isn’t healthy.
It was a good call on their part, making her move home. But I don’t get the impression her parents are going to push her. Cecilia broke once. They’re worried she’ll break again. That if they push too hard or too fast, it’ll tip her over the ledge and they’ll lose her, this time for good.
I understand their concern, but it doesn’t make them right. It makes them scared.
Someone needs to push her. Pull her. Shake her for all it’s worth. Something to make her snap out of it. Coddling her only adds to the problem.
