Page 11 of One Breath After Another

At least, her stare didn’t lie. Everything anyone needed to know was always staring back at them. She was happy, at least, that the last bit of yellowish bruising on her neck had finally disappeared over the last week. It had been the only reminder of her last suicide attempt.

One of many.

This time would have worked if not for Roz ... and Kyle, too, a mentor who had been trying to help Penny overseas. He was long gone, though, back to wherever he spent his days. And she was left with Roz and Naz while the bruises faded from the rope she had tied perfectly.

Penny didn’t know whether she was happy or not that they saved her. Everybody says a person only wants to die until they are dying, but she didn’t remember it that way.

That was part of her depression, she knew. The disconnect. Her lack of desire to talk or even be present. How she would much rather hide beneath blankets or in clothes that drowned her body.

Not soon enough for her liking, the second hand of the clock finally ticked down the last minute of her required therapy session. Another form would be filled out and sent to the social worker to say Penny and her guardians were doing all the work demanded of them to ensure her mental health and well-being.

But as she stood to leave, Dr. Tangler asked, “One to ten this week?”

She didn’t need to clarify what she meant. Penny understood.

“Eight.”

“That’s high on the scale.”

“Not the nine it was last week,” Penny returned.

“Do you have an active plan?”

“No.”

Not one for suicide, anyway.

“Self-harm?” the therapist asked.

It took every ounce of self-control Penny had not to rub at the black, long-sleeve sweater covering her arms. Even the denim of her skinny jeans itched overtop the scars she hid with clothing. The mere mention of her habit to cut was enough to make her want to do it. Numbness would follow—it was all she really wanted.

“Not lately,” she said honestly.

Penny couldn’t say how long it would last.

The therapist didn’t ask.

“I’ll see you next week,” the woman said as Penny left the room.

Maybe, she replied silently. She didn’t make promises and while she might not be actively planning another suicide attempt, she also didn’t plan for anything else, either. Wishful thinking, perhaps. Or it could just be her depression talking again.

That bitch never left.

And neither did—

“How did it go?” Roz asked the second Penny emerged from the office’s back hallway. She stood from the waiting room’s chair, offering one of her smiles. A warm, comforting sight. Like everything else about Rosalynn Puzza. She just ... drew people in—made them feel safe. Including Penny, but it was hard to trust that. “Okay, I hope.”

Penny shrugged. “Like it usually does.”

“I know you don’t like coming here but—”

“Required by the state and child services,” she interjected, parroting the same shit everybody told her. “I know, Roz.”

Plus, it kept her accountable.

Not that Penny would admit it. Then, people might think it was helping. Nothing helped.

Roz joined Penny’s side as they left the office, stepping out into a busy Manhattan sidewalk. Life bustled all around them, but she felt distanced from it all. Another day alive.