For good measure, she covered the paper with fallen leaves to camouflage it.

While writing the note felt exhilarating, she worried about the safety of it.

Her stomach knotted with distress, but she couldn't go back.

It was getting dark and her parents were expecting her home.

She walked through the front door to find her mother and father waiting.

Isla avoided the gaze of her mother but smiled at her father.

"How was therapy?" they asked.

"Alright." She shrugged.

To avoid their questions, she ran up the stairs and flopped onto her bed.

She grabbed the journal out and began to write her next problem.

In that fleeting moment, she began to wonder what it would be like to write all her problems away.

Would they disappear? Most likely not, but she hoped.

* * * * *