After my psychiatric evaluation, I was cleared of having to do a 72-hour hold, despite my mom's insistence. She had no idea that I knew how to present a happy and healthy mask very well. I'd been using that mask for years and had fooled many doctors. I lied convincingly, even to the point of making them tell her that it was essential for Ethan to stay with me, which only pissed her off more.
As the doctors left the room, Mom turned to me, her eyes blazing with frustration. "I can't believe this. You don't need this kid to stay with you."
I shrugged, feeling a small, bitter triumph. "The doctors seem to think it's a good idea."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "I don't like it."
"Well, it's not really about what you like, is it?" Ethan said coolly from his seat beside my bed. "Kyle IS the patient here, after all."
