Page 333 of Face Off
Fear tightens my stomach because this question has lived inside me since Cade told me I kept taking pieces of Ryan and calling it love.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
“That sounds medically compelling.”
I lie back against the couch and stare at the ceiling.
“A narcissist isn’t the only kind of person capable of being selfish,” I say eventually. “Wanting a diagnosis would give me another reason. I have enough reasons.”
“So what do you want?”
“Ryan.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
I hate myself a little for sounding exactly like him.
“What do you want for yourself?”
“Freedom.”
“From what?”
“Everyone deciding who I am.”
“Then why do you care whether Ryan thinks you’re healed?”
My mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
I sit upright and reach for my drink.
“Oh, fuck you.”
The phone continues recording.
I glare at it. “I’m trying to prove I’m different.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
“Why?”
“Because I need them to believe treatment worked.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you need to prove it?”
“Because healthy people don’t fuck up like I did.”
