A/N: I'm not going to bore you with details, but my life and I are in a battle. So, sorry about the huge gap between updates, hopefully that won't happen again. I'm also paranoid about this chapter totally and completely sucking, so sorry about that too. Um...

As soon as he heard the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut behind you, Henry stepped out of the closet. When he saw your face, he ran to give you a hug. Sometimes you hated yourself for how much one of Henry's hugs could really fix. He rubbed your back as you rested your head on his shoulder and cried into his neck. He knew better than to ask questions right now; he knew you.

"Shhh, it'll be okay," he reassured you, without even knowing what was going on, "You're fine. It's fine, I've got you."

It was ridiculous, really, but it helped. Someone in this world cared about you more than your dead brother or crazy mom. Someone noticed you and could read your emotions and knew just what to say. Someone would be upset if you were to just disappear one day with no explanation. After growing up with the belief that no one did, finding the someone who always did was an amazing experience. But some things were too fucked up. Some things even Henry couldn't fix.

You carefully detached yourself from Henry's arms and sat down on your bed. He was quick to follow, sitting close enough to you that his shoulders were centimeters away from touching yours. He didn't push for an explanation. In fact, he didn't say anything. He simply sat there for five minutes while you aggressively wiped tears from your eyes and attempted to regulate your breathing. You needed to tell him. Now. But for some reason it took your brain and mouth another few moments of silence before they cooperated.

"They're giving my mom a new treatment," you managed in a monotone voice.

Henry looked confused as to why this had caused such an emotional reaction from you. "That's good….isn't it?"

Your next words were sobbed out and barely coherent. "Shock therapy."

"Wha—They still do that?" Apparently your sobbing was coherent enough for Henry to understand. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

The tears came harder and faster as you imagined your mom lying unconscious in a hospital bed with monitors hooked up to her and cords coming from her brain and waves of electricity being repeatedly sent into her already fragile brain. It was too much to handle. Henry gently tugged your body and rearranged you so that you were lying down with your head in his lap and he was calmly stroking your hair.

"They're going to shock her brain. Sh-she trusts him and he's fucking letting them do this to her. It's fucked up." You blubbered out, spilling tears onto Henry's pants.

"Maybe it'll help, though." He always had a positive response. Sometimes you loved it and sometimes you hated it. Right now, you didn't want to hear positive things. You wanted him to scream with you about how unfair all of this was, not offer you a silver lining. You needed to get out of this nightmare.

Only, you weren't dreaming; you couldn't wake up and have it all go away. So, you did what seemed like the next best thing. If reality was going to be a bitch, you would just have to block it out. You jumped up from Henry's lap.

His mouth opened to question your sudden movement as you ran to your dresser and pulled out the most revealing outfit you had: a lacy black spaghetti strap top and a miniskirt that was blood red with a thin layer of black lace over it.

You didn't let Henry ask any questions. Instead, you changed into this new outfit and slipped on high heeled black shoes right in front of him, allowing him to see more of you than he ever had before, and not caring a bit about it at the moment.

"Let's go out," you said, running a brush quickly through your hair and plastering on the makeup you rarely used. The image in the mirror barely resembled you. Thank god.

Henry slowly stood up and walked over to you. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" he asked, struggling to keep his eyes on your face. Points to him for not blatantly staring at your cleavage.

You grabbed some money and shoved it into his pocket, hoping it would be enough to get you in somewhere. How much did it cost to go to a club, anyway? And… where exactly were they? Spontaneity had never been your best friend. No thinking ahead, you scolded yourself. All that mattered was getting out of here and away from this house.

"Let's go out!" you repeated. You grabbed Henry's arm and dragged him into the hallway, continuing your sorry excuse of an explanation as you made your way past your dad's bedroom and down the stairs, "Let's go to some club and dance and forget about all of this and hey, do you know a place that will give us drinks, because that'd be great."

You had no idea where all of this talk was coming from. All you knew was that you needed to feel alive and like a normal, rebellious teenage girl instead of the genius freak and you needed to feel something other than panic and stress over your mom and damn it, you needed out of that horrid house.

"Nat…" Henry bit his lip, "I'm not sure this is such a great idea. You just found out about your mom and if you were thinking clearly, you would not be asking me to take you somewhere like—"

You rolled your eyes, frustrated with his over-protectiveness. Why did everyone treat you like such a child? Like they had to walk on glass around you? Life sucks. You had gotten that message a long time ago. You just wanted one night to forget about how much life sucked. Was that really too much to ask?

"I'm going with or without you," you said firmly, opening the door and walking out of the house.

There was a moment of silence as you made your way down the driveway and to the car, then the sound of Henry running to catch up with you.

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