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Three: Spilling Over

"So... feeling ready?" Clara asked, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat. Max sighed, her own legs folded beneath her on the seat, her grey hospital-issue tracksuit bunching up around her knees. The young fox took her time answering, but that was fine, Clara understood she often needed a minute or two to find the right words.

"Like..." She started, itching at her neck. "I know that I am. But I don't feel ready yet." She said, offering a shrug. Clara chuckled.

"Yes, a lot of patients react that way." The lioness explained. "It's difficult going home. I mean, you come here in a time of crisis, and you form a bunch of new relationships and routines with very clear boundaries and rules. St. Raph's has a very methodical way of operation, so you know what to expect, which your anxiety-brain loves. But you remember how we talked about complacency?" Max nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Yeah, yeah I know. Don't get comfortable."

"It's not that you're not allowed to be comfortable, it's just that you don't need to stay in a particular place because it's comfortable. Sometimes things can get much better, you just need to keep your toolkit up to scratch, you know?"

"Yeah."

"But I've spoken to your parents, and they really want to work with you on building a network that works for you. You'll still have our sessions, you have your new skills, and if you keep taking the medication, I think it's going to be really successful." Max shifted uncomfortably, struggling not to itch at the bandages wrapped around her wrists.

"I'm just...I'm just like, embarrassed." She said, exasperated. "I feel like they'll look at me like... I don't know. I feel..."

"Like you let them down?" Clara offered. Max nodded curtly. "Max... they understand. Really. I promise you, you're a strong person, and your parents know that. They don't look down on you for what happened, and neither should you. You know how we talked about your cup, right? Usually we want the mug about two thirds full, so there's room for more stressors, because life ain't stable. But you were already walking about with a pretty full cup, so when a little more gets added on it all..."

"...spills over." Max finished. Clara repeated herself a lot, and while Max found it a little irritating, she knew it was to help her build a mantra into her mind. "I know that. And I know I'll be okay, but... well you know." Clara nodded.

"Yeah I do." She said. "But, you know I don't like that kinda language. Remember, we're keeping away from things like 'I fucked up' and 'I wasn't good enough'. Things got out of hand before and that's okay, but now, you have all these new safety nets to catch you when things go wrong. I'm always here, and so are your parents." Clara knew Max found metaphors easier to understand, it was something she really appreciated about her psych.

"Yeah I know." She said.

But there was nothing wrong before. She thought, a shiver running down her spine. The sentence poked and prodded at her, begging her to say it out loud, to bring it up, again. She'd gone over and over it with Clara before. In the two weeks she'd been in the psychiatric ward of St. Raphael's General Hospital, Max had spent hours with the lion, poring over the whys and hows of it all. There would always be that thought though, like a leech on her brain, sucking away at her fear and getting fatter and fatter:

She had not once been able to articulate, to herself or Clara, why she had tried to kill herself.

I was tired. That was the best she could do. They'd talked about her parents, friends, relationships, future, fears, dreams, wants, everything they could think of. Max had felt a little stressed or down sometimes, but nothing compared to some of her friends. There certainly wasn't any source she could locate that had _caused_her to be stressed, it wasn't even finals time! One day she had just woken up feeling...empty. Numb. It was like a paradox, she felt nothing, and that absence of feeling was so painful and crushing she was willing to try anything to make it stop. After months of this, she had decided...

Decided what? Max could hardly even remember the day in question. She couldn't remember what was going through her head when she had taken that fucking box cutter to her arm. It was a graphic memory, but Clara encouraged her not to shy away from it, whenever possible. She had explained Max's tendency to 'dissociate'; her brains way of protecting itself from pain.

Clara had eventually decided that there was no acute, easily defined stimulus that caused Max to snap like that. She was just too stressed. The fox nodded and agreed and took the meds, but she didn't entirely agree. Feelings didn't just up and come out of nowhere; they had a source, even if she didn't realise what it was yet. It was a promise she made to herself, something to focus on as she left Raph's: she would find out why.

"Well. Your parents will be here soon, do you want to eat before you go, or too nervous?" Clara continued, oblivious to Max's inner monologue.

"Ah..." She began. "Yeah I'll go hang out for a bit. I am kinda nervous though."

"Like I said, it's perfectly understandable. I think the others would be glad to see you though. I'll meet with you before you go yeah, see you off?" Max nodded, grateful. It felt silly, but she was kinda scared to see her parents again. They'd visited three times while she was at St. Raph's, but it had always been short, structured sorts of meetings, and supervised by Clara to boot.

"Thanks Clara." Max said, picking herself up from the chair and heading out, closing the door softly behind her. While the hallways were stark and sterile in their default state, over time they'd been decorated with drawings and paintings done by the kids in art therapy. They were almost always relatively simple images created with broad, vibrant colour palettes. Walking down the hall was like looking at the world through the best kind of filter; hyper-green grass, a cascading and warm sun, cool bubbling streams that were gentle to the touch. It was good, to distract them from the real world, just for a little while.

In the lunch room, everyone was seated at the middle table. Marley sat right in the middle of the group, which was kind of funny considering she never said anything. Next to her was Chester, a quiet but kind cat, then Eric - a wolf with an eating disorder of some sort -, and finally Benji. At only fifteen he was kind of a delinquent, but despite the fact Max was two years older than him he was probably her favourite at St. Raph's. From what she'd heard from Eric, who had been here the longest (after Benji), her otter friend was schizophrenic and not coping well. He didn't like to talk about that stuff though, and in fact spent most of the time acting like everything was perfectly normal. They'd already collected their food, but since she wasn't hungry Max went and sat right with them, sagging down on the bench seat next to Benji.

"Ay." Eric said with a tiny wave, a plain piece of bread clutched in his paws with nothing on it but a slice of cheese.

"Hi." Max said back with a smile, nodding to the others.

"You're going home today right?" Benji asked, raising an eyebrow. "Traitor." He was grinning, despite his mouth being full. It was actually sort of gross.

"Yeah. My parents will be here soon."

"Are you nervous?" Chester asked, leaning in.

"No." Max lied.

"Are your parents gonna be cool about it?"

"I think so." She replied.

"It's nice they even want you home." Benji said softly. Marley gave him a sympathetic look.

"I guess." Max said with a shrug.

"Think you'll come back?" Chester again.

"Um, I don't plan on it. Sorry."

"I'm not allowed my phone, but can I add you on Facebook when I get it?" Benji then. "Are you a person that has Facebook?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Maybe we should make a group?" Eric suggested quietly, putting his half eaten piece of bread down delicately. "Like, you know... to help... if we need it."

"I like that idea, I think." Chester said, glancing around in an attempt to gauge the group's reaction. Marley gave a short nod.

"I dunno." Benji.

"Not everyone gets it." Eric.

"And you do?"

"Better than some."

"I like it." Max said. "I'll be in the group, sure."

"Yeah fuckin' add me I guess, Jesus Christ." Benji scoffed, rolling his eyes.

The conversation hit a weird standpoint there, but was quickly picked up by Eric - Max had noticed that not only was he chatty, but that he used conversation as a way to distract himself from his food. There was a rule in St. Raph's, about not asking other kids 'why they were in'. You were free to tell anyone you wanted of course, but asking was considered rude. Nobody had ever had to ask Max, nor did she have to explain; the bandages on her forearms were more than message enough.

Eventually Clara came to the group, hands in the pockets of her jeans, grinning and joking with them. After a few minutes of chatting, she put a paw on Max's shoulder and told them to say their goodbyes. They all did, even a little wave from Marley, and finally Max followed her out.

"Do you wanna get your things from your room? Maybe get changed yeah?" Clara suggested, to which Max nodded. Her bags were already packed, but she dug through the gym bag her parents had put together after she was admitted, finding some loose cargo pants and a grey jacket, followed by her old sneakers. Feeling a little more comfortable in her 'outside clothes', she slung the bag over one shoulder and went out with Clara to the lobby.

Her mother, June, broke out into a huge smile as she approached, holding her arms open and practically running in to embrace her daughter.

"Oh honey, so good to see you!" She said, rocking back and forth. Max hugged her back awkwardly, finally breaking away and then doing the same with her dad.

"June, Paul." Clara said. "Max is all ready to go, we'll miss her I think. The kids certainly will."

"Popular huh?" Paul said, his voice wavering slightly. Clara nodded, passing over some papers and a box of tablets to Max's mother.

"So this is the prescription and refills and stuff, as well as the current fill. Um... it's good for six months, but I can just write a new one when it runs out, so don't stress." She explained. Max blushed, rubbing the back of her neck. It felt weird to be talked about like that.

"And you, missy!" Clara said, turning with open arms. Max stepped into a hug, and the tall lion groaned. "Ah, I'll miss our chats."

"Yeah me too." Max replied as they broke apart.

"I'll still see you next week though, don't be late."

"Yeah." They all stood in the lobby for a few moments, barely seconds, and yet the silence dragged. Thankfully Paul had no hesitation to break it.

"So we should go then?" He asked, gesturing to the carpark with a thumb. Max sighed, then nodded, following them out, bag over her shoulder. They kept quiet as Max shoved her bag into the boot and climbed into the back. Once they'd started moving, she kept her gaze aimed straight out the window, losing herself in the passing scenery.

"You feeling hungry back there?" June asked, snapping Max from her dazed state. She shook herself out of the trance, looking to her mother, who was turned around in her seat and staring.

"No thanks." She said. "The new medication makes me nauseous, so I don't really feel like eating...sorry."

"That's fine. You just sit back and relax." June gave her a warm smile. "It's so good to have you back." She added, to which Max nodded uncomfortably. They drove in relative silence after that, save for the radio playing softly in the background. Max's father made an occasional comment on the weather or traffic, to which her mother continued to replied, but Max stayed out of it wherever possible.

Arriving home was a strange experience. It had only been two weeks, and yet Max felt almost like she was arriving at a vacation house or something, it was just hard to think of this place as 'home'.

That's fine. For now, we'll just call it house. She thought, in a voice echoing Clara's. She followed her father inside, racing up the steps and heading to her room by sheer muscle memory. At the door however, she froze, one paw locked onto the doorknob, the bandage on her wrist staring up at her as a bleak reminder. She could hear her breath in that second, could feel her heart thumping. Max once read about the 'call of the void'. A psychological phenomenon wherein people staring out from a tall height had the thought of jumping pop unbidden into their mind. It wasn't a compulsion to throw yourself off exactly, and those who had experienced the call neither wanted to nor actually did jump, they just thought about that nasty what-if. Max had felt it before, on a school trip to a mountain range. Right now, she had the same exact feeling she'd had looking down from the base jump point.

What-if is a dangerous term. We like to try and stay away from what-ifs, you know that. Her Inner-Clara lectured. What-if I was better? What-if I didn't do it? When you feel those what-ifs creeping up Max, shut 'em down. The bastards.

"Bastards." She whispered.

"Maxie? You right over there?" Her dad, calling from the top of the stairs. She turned, looking at him, chewing on her tongue.

"I..." She started slowly. "Did you... clean it up?" Her words got progressively quieter with each word that left her lips. Her dad stared for a moment, his face a carefully constructed mask hiding the pain she knew was there.

How could I try and do that to them? The thought forced its way into her mind.

"Of course." He said after a moment. "Are you alright? You could sleep on the couch downstairs or something if you want."

"No, no it's alright. I'm fine." She said, smiling unconvincingly. "Thanks though."

She opened the door.

Her room looked perfectly normal. It was probably a little tidier than it had been before if anything.

How did they get the blood out? The carpet seemed the same as always, it was just missing the massive stain of red she'd left behind. Seeing the room brought up an entirely new unholy cocktail of guilt and stress. Max dropped her bag on the bed, quickly sitting down as her legs crumbled beneath her. She was out of breath, a paw on her chest. She closed her eyes.

Focus. She opened her eyes. I can see the door, my desk, my bag, the picture of me and Harry, and my laundry hamper. I can hear the wind outside, Dad walking around in his room, Mum downstairs using the sink, and the air conditioning. I can smell my clothes, my sweat, and lavender.

It was a grounding technique that Clara had taught her, to help with the loss of self Max often found herself stuck in.

It's 2018, my name is Max Renton, and I'm a seventeen-year-old fox. She held her paws up, flexing her fingers, watching them move. Mine. These paws belong to me and I'm in control of them.

"I'm real." She said aloud, glad that nobody was around to see or hear her. With her breathing and brain under control, at least for now, Max stood and made her way downstairs. She found June in the kitchen washing up dishes; they owned a dishwasher, but the older vixen rarely used it, preferring instead to just do them by hand; apparently that would make them 'cleaner'.

"Hey Maxie. All good?" She cooed as Max passed her, sitting down at the dining table in a slump. Max always hated how frequently her parents used her name, but there was really no stopping it at this point.

"Yeah, I'm just tired. Kinda stupid, I've barely done anything at all today." June frowned slightly.

"It's not stupid. Lot of change going on today, of course you're tired."

"Sure."

"So what do you feel like having for dinner? I think we'll just be getting takeaway of some sort. You starting to feel hungry yet?"

"Nah, not really. But you can order soon if everyone else is. I'll choke something down I guess."

"You don't have to choke it down, we can wait." June tsked, whirling to make a start on drying the dishes. The woman was hardly compulsive, but she liked a clean house - that much was certain.

"Mum it's fine. I'll get used to the meds, but for now I have to just make myself eat." Max said, trying to keep the snap out of her voice.

"Well then, what do you want us to order?" Max let her head fall flat on the table with a gentle thud.

"I don't care."

"You must prefer something."

_ _ "I don't know!" Max exclaimed, looking up. "Pizza? How's that?"

"You're sure? You don't normally like pizza that much.

"Mum!" June pursed her lips, flushing slightly. After a second she nodded.

"Sounds good Maxie, I'll order it soon."

"Cool." Max sighed, staring around the kitchen, a thought occurring to her. Something felt off about the room. It was almost like déjà vu but not quite, like there was something imperceptibly but undeniably _wrong_about it. It took her nearly three minutes to work out what it was that was bothering her, and when she finally did her heart sank.

All of the knives and sharp objects had been put away.

There used to be a stainless steel magnetic knife block sitting up near the oven, a staple point of her parents cooking tools. There was also an expensive cleaver set that her Dad had received as a Christmas gift one year. Max could remember them vividly, because he'd been so in love with them. Now they were gone. Because of her. It had to be because of her. Because they were afraid of... what?

Are they worried I'll just... lose it? That I'll leap over the bench and slit my throat? She was suddenly angry at the act. What, everything had to change because she had one overly dramatic moment? Between her mother insistently validating every one of her emotions and her Dad staring at her like she might any minute begin raving like her Grandmother, Max felt like screaming. They're just trying to help. They just want to help you. She knew it, but it was still incredibly isolating.

She was terrified, only a few hours after leaving St. Raph's, and already she couldn't shake the fear that her parents would never treat her like a person again. To them she was now just this... thing they were trying not to break.

"Gotta be careful around Maxie, or she'll lose it again. Can't have that, it was so hard to clean up the mess last time."

"Well June, she's a delicate young girl, you know that. If we introduce too much now she could get overwhelmed again. She's obviously not ready for the world, poor emotional thing."

"Yes, yes the poor thing."

"Don't stress her out."

"No of course not dear, we can't have our Maxie being stressed again."

"Honey? Are you alright?" Max realised then that she was shaking. June was staring at her from across the kitchen counter, eyes wide. "Maxie, what's wrong?"

Max put a paw over her mouth, and only then realised she was sobbing.