The Clock Keeps Ticking

Chapter 67: "The Clock Keeps Ticking"

The clock ticked louder than usual.

Zariah sat on the worn-out couch in the living room, her hands in her lap, staring at a faint coffee stain on the carpet. Her mother sat nearby, but not too close — like she wasn't sure if Zariah would bolt.

Across from them, the therapist adjusted her glasses and offered a polite smile.

"Zariah, I know this probably isn't where you want to be right now," she said gently.

Zariah didn't answer. Her eyes stayed on the floor.

The therapist — Ms. Keane — shifted her tone, softer now. "That's okay. You don't have to talk. I'll start."

Zariah barely listened. Words floated by her: trauma, coping, safe space, trust.

Trust?

She didn't even trust herself.

Her mom had insisted on home visits after the hospital. Said it would be better. Said it would be safer.

But Zariah didn't feel safe. She felt like the walls were closing in.

"Zariah," the therapist said again, "can you tell me what the hardest part of the day has been for you?"

Still, silence.

Zariah clenched her fingers so tightly her nails left half-moons in her palms.

Jasmine would've said something. Jasmine always found the words.

But Jasmine wasn't here.

"I don't want to do this," Zariah finally said.

Her voice was so quiet, her mom barely heard it.

"I understand," Ms. Keane replied. "And that's okay. This isn't easy. You've been carrying a lot."

Zariah looked up sharply.

"Don't say that like you know," she snapped. "You don't know anything."

Her mom stiffened beside her, but didn't speak.

"I've been screaming inside for months. I've been dying right in front of people. And nobody saw. Nobody listened." Her voice cracked. "Not until I was bleeding out in a hospital bed."

Ms. Keane didn't flinch. "I hear you now."

Zariah stood up suddenly.

Her heart was racing, hands trembling. "You're too late."

She left the room.

Her mom started to follow, but Ms. Keane held up a hand. "Let her go," she said. "For now."

Zariah slammed her door behind her.

She slid down against it, knees pulled to her chest.

She wanted to scream. To cry. To break something. But nothing came.

She was just… empty.

And the clock in the hallway kept ticking.

Later that night, a note appeared under her door in Jasmine's handwriting.

_"Even when you don't talk, I still hear you.

Even when you hurt, I'm still here.

Please don't forget that.

J."_

Zariah clutched the note like a lifeline.

She still didn't know if she wanted to live.

But maybe, just maybe, she didn't want to be alone.