I stared at Donna, speechless. I opened my mouth several times to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, after about two minutes, I spoke.

"Is Courtney sick, too?" She didn't say anything. "Did I make her sick?" Nothing. I sighed. "Who's sicker?" She gave me a sympathetic half smile.

"Who do you think," she asked quietly. I bit my lip.

"Me?" Her smile grew a little.

"You're wrong." I felt my eyes widen and my breath catch in my throat.

"Please no," I denied. "She's not." Donna nodded.

"Yes, she is, Brian." She glanced down at the folder. "Your problem can be cured. It's highly unlikely that hers can be."

"What exactly is her problem," I asked, a little angry and scared. Had I really broken her beyond repair?

"She has trouble telling right from wrong, at least when it comes to you. She's traumatized from the bad times, haunted by the good times."

"Aren't traumatized and haunted basically the same thing?"

"Yes, but no. She's traumatized in the sense that she hates thinking about them because they scare her. She's haunted, as in she'll always have them on her mind as good memories. When she's dating another boy and has a more sexual relationship with him"-my muscles tense-"she'll compare that with when you were with her."

"That would no doubt ruin it for her," I said, completely understanding what she was saying.

"Exactly." She looked at the time. "I think you've done extremely well for your first day. Would you like to schedule another appointment?"

"Would that be a good idea?"

"I think so." I nodded so she got her planner out.

"How's three days from now, same time?" I nodded again, so she wrote my name down. "I'll call the day before to remind you." She stood up, so I did, also. "We walked out to the waiting room to see Matt playing a game on his phone and Courtney listening to his iPod with her eyes shut. Matt looked up and tapped her arm. She jumped and looked at him, then directed her attention to me. Her face flashed a look of fear, and she took a deep breath before swallowing. All of this happened in a matter of a few seconds. Matt stood up, so she did the same, keeping her eyes locked on the iPod. We left and it was like she was glued to Matt. She wouldn't leave his side. Once we got outside to the car, she got in the back with the volume all the way up (I could hear it perfectly). I made sure she was still listening to it when I started talking to Matt.

"She's sicker," I murmured, keeping my eyes on the road. I saw him look at me our of the corner of my eye. "This is gonna affect her whole life."

"You didn't think it would," he replied questioningly in the same tone.

"I don't know. I was hopeful it wouldn't."

"Haven't you ever watched Law & Order: SVU?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, I have."

"Then how don't you understand what rape does to a girl?" My muscles tensed, my knuckles turned white from tightening my hold on the steering wheel.

"I know what it does, Matt-"

"Then why'd you do it?" I bit my lip, glancing in the rearview mirror. Courtney was staring at me with wide, curious eyes. I didn't realize the music stopped.

"I don't know," I whispered, watching her. I looked back at the road and the rest of the ride was silent besdies Matt's iPod which Courtney had turned back on. As soon as we pulled into the driveway and I cut the engine, Courtney jumped out and went into the house. Matt and I looked at each other.

"Someone has to talk to her," he whispered. "It wouldn't be right if it was me." With that, he got out and walked in. I sat there for a minute, thinking over what he said. I stepped out and trudged into the house, seeing Matt make coffee.

"Where is she," I asked quietly. He nodded toward the stairs. I started walking, but his voice stopped me.

"'I'm trusting you alone with her, Syn," he said, filling the pot with water. "Don't screw it up." I clenched my fists, but then relaxed them. I walked up the steps and stood in front of her door. She must've hooked the iPod up to her stereo, because I heard Iron Maiden's "Flash of the Blade" playing and her humming. I knocked twice.

"Court," I said, "we need to talk." The humming ceased, but she didn't open the door. I cracked it. "Courtney?" I pushed it open more so I could step in. She was lying on the bed with her back to me. I shut the door behind me and leaned against while crossing my arms over my chest. Neither of us said anything until Marilyn Manson's rendition of "This Is Halloween" started. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I like this song," she muttered emotionlessly. I walked around the bed and she turned on her other side. I turned the iPod off and sat down next to her.

"Courtney, I understand why you're upset, trust me-"

"How am I supposed to trust you?" That hurt. I waited a second.

"I know she told you you're sick, she told me the same thing-"

"I didn't do anything." She turned so she was on her back, but her hips and legs were still turned away. "How can I be sick if I didn't do anything?"

"It's my fault." I looked down at her hands that were folded on her stomach. I made you like this, if it wasn't for me-"

"I love you, Brian," she said, staring at me. My heart jumped and skipped a beat. She's never said that to me first before. At that moment, I wanted her. No one else, just her.

I leaned down and kissed her, my hands holding her waist. She tangled her hands in my hair, pulling it and turning me on even more. My mind started screaming, No! Don't do it to her again! My eyes shot open and I abruptly broke away, stepping back, clenching my fists again.

"Brian..." Courtney was speechless. She didn't understand.

"We can't, Courtney," I said. "You heard what Donna said-"

"I don't care what Donna said!" The volume of her voice surprised me. "I need you, Brian! No one but you!" I took a deep breath and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind me. I pressed my back against the wall right by her door, hanging my head in my hands.

Why does this have to be so hard?