Brianna
I have no idea how long it is, but finally, my parents walk through the door.
Their eyes lock onto me, and I know I’m not going to be getting pity.
“Brianna, get over here right now!” my mother snaps, fury burning in her eyes.
I obediently rise and slink over to her, my eyes fixed on the ground.
“What do you think you were doing?” she hisses. “I don’t know what is wrong with you lately! You have sex with a boy, and then you go off the deep end! If you don’t straighten up, so help me…”
And so on. I don’t even try to stop the tears that start flowing down my face. And I don’t say a word. There’s nothing that I can say that will do anything but get me in even more trouble.
My mother’s tirade, added to by Dad’s own two-cense, is only stopped when the nurse comes back in and asks us to come with her. And I have to sit there, before the eyes of Dr. Carter, while they relay the story they obviously heard from Toby. I get another lecture, a few papers are signed, and they tell me I’m going to be riding an ambulance to the recovery center.
I keep my mouth shut and my head down. My tears are hidden better that way anyway.
As I walk behind the nurse, back down the hallway, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I turn to see Toby standing there. For some reason, my eyes snap up to his.
“Where are you gonna be?” he asks quietly.
I mumble out the name of the center. I don’t even know why he wants it.
He nods slowly, and I see tears behind his eyes.
“Hold on, Bri,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna do great things.”
And the nurse reclaims me, leading me down the hallway with an iron hand on my shoulder. But I can still feel Toby’s eyes on me, though. Why does he care so much?

Three days here, and I’m still wishing I’m dead. Not that they would know that. They think I’m doing better. Not perfect or anything, but better.
But that’s because, for the first two days, I answered all of their questions honestly. I acted like I feel on the inside. And then today I’ve found a balance of what I still do feel like and what improvement they’re trying for.
Because it’s become clear to me that I’m not going to find freedom here. I mean, they’re doing everything, forced vacation, counseling, you name it. And it has helped a little. But I know, at the end of it all, what’s waiting for me. The same taunts, the same hurt, the same guilt for something I didn’t do. Except, after this, so much worse. And anyway, they can’t undo what happened six months ago.
But I can’t try for death again if I’m stuck here.
So I have to give them the improvement they want, at a realistic rate, so that I can get out of here and die. And it’s working. Today, I was even allowed visitors outside of family. If only I had any friends to use it.
Jason and Samuel, as pastors, count as family, and I’ve already seen both of them. I was convinced this was it for them – that this would finally push them over the edge and make them hate me.
But instead, they both showed up, hugged me in tears, and said they loved me and that wasn’t the answer and I was gonna get through this. And I don’t know why.
It’s only like seven, but, since supper is past and I don’t have any more counselling tonight, I literally have nothing to do up here, alone in my room, and I’m honestly considering going to bed. I just don’t know what else to do. It’s not like my parents are gonna come visit. I haven’t seen them since the night I tried.
With the lectures I know I’d be getting, I’m not complaining.
There’s a knock at the door, and I look up without much interest. It opens to reveal one of the nurses, Sam.
She offers me a smile, just like she always does. “I have good news, Brianna,” she says cheerily. “First off, if you keep improving, you can go home on Monday.”
Today’s Saturday. If I went home Monday morning, I could be dead by Tuesday. I guess it’ll have to work.
I nod slowly. “Cool.” I try to force enthusiasm into my tone.
“Second,” she continues, “you have a visitor. And he’s even kinda famous.”
She slips me a wink before leaving again, but not fully shutting the door.
What the heck is she talking about?
“You can go in now,” she says to someone hidden to me, and the door opens back up the amount that she closed it.
And my eyes land on tobyMac.
The minute my eyes touch his, I feel shame crash over my like a wave, and I let mine snap to the carpet.
Why is he here.
He crosses the room, sitting down in front of me where I’m on the floor, my back to my bed.
“Bri,” he says gently. “come on, girl. Please look at me?”
Against my own will, my eyes slide up to his.
He reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing lightly.
“Bri,” he murmurs. “Listen, whatever you’re thinking about how much I should hate you or why I wouldn’t want to be here, just stop, okay?”
I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it.
“Us meeting was something of God,” he continues. “I believe that in my heart. And I am so glad He chose me to run into you on Wednesday night.”
I just shake my head, letting my eyes slide to the carpet again.
“That’s impossible,” I whisper, forcing back the tears threatening me.
“It’s true,” he replies gently. “Bri, how could I judge you? How could I be angry? If I was, I’d be no better than a Pharisee. I haven’t lived a perfect life. And my sin, my brokenness, is no lower that yours. Not in God’s eyes. He sees it all, and He loves us both the same. So I want to do the same.”
It’s like he’s reading everything in my mind.
I feel those tears choke me, but I force the words out of my mouth anyway. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please, Bri,” Toby says, squeezing my hand again, “don’t be. I mean it, okay? I am so glad that I met you that night, and I would not have it any other way.”
“How can you say that?” I gasp, confusion bubbling out of my mouth like the tears from my eyes. “My entire family… all of my friends… they all hate me. They don’t believe a word out of my mouth anymore. All they do is judge me and wish I was different. And yet I run into you because I’m trying to kill myself, and now you love me?”
“Exactly,” he says seriously. “I mean it. I don’t know about your family. I don’t know about your friends. But I know that I care so much about you, Bri. And I barely even know you.”
“Maybe that’s why,” I mutter back, staring at the ground.
He’s silent for a long moment. “How about you give me a try?” he asks finally. “See if I stick around.”
“You shouldn’t do that for me!” I gasp desperately.
“And Jesus shouldn’t have died for me,” he answers simply. “It’s a thing called grace. And another thing called love. Because I do, Bri. I love you.”

A/N: I'm back! I know it's been like ten billion years, but here it is anyway. :)