A/N: This is the last chapter. Also, there are a couple references to M.A.S.H: Goodbye, Farewell, Amen and an episode during the fourth season of ER.

CHAPTER 10

Have you ever had one of those times where you were crying and crying your eyes out, and no matter what, you just couldn't stop? I think probably the last time I'd been there was at grandfather's funeral, Dad's father, specifically. I was a sobbing mess for the entire day, and it lasted for almost a week straight. It was the closest I'd ever been to having a nervous breakdown. And you know what? If I had a choice, I'd would've much rather gone through that ordeal again than what I was going through now.

"I didn't mean to hit Vanessa!" I managed to gasp between sobs. "I didn't!...I--I just wanted her to leave me alone!"

"Oh, Haley, come here," Mom said soothingly, putting her arms around me. I buried my face into her shoulder and just sobbed my heart out. I couldn't help it. I felt so ashamed of how I'd been acting, everything I'd done, and what I was turning into. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that my protective nature towards Matt, not to mention my commitment to the BSC, would turn me into someone I didn't even know.

After I was finally able to calm down, I turned slowly to Dr. Allen to find him handing me a Kleenex. I took it and wiped my eyes.

"Are you okay now, Haley?" he asked.

I nodded. Even though I knew I had to talk about what happened that day, I couldn't stop myself from getting angry at Dr. Allen for basically dragging it out of me.

"You bastard," I accused him, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Why did you make me remember that?"

"You needed to get it out in the open," Dr. Allen answered. "And that's the first step. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

"How are you feeling now?" Dr. Allen continued. "If you were to tell me in one word how you're feeling, what would it be?"

I sighed. Honestly, I felt like my mind was a half-done jigsaw puzzle that was shoved off a table with some of the pieces rolling under the rug. "I don't know," I confessed.

"I think she feels regret for what she's done," Mom suggested. Then, turning to me, she asked, "What do you think?"

"Well, I suppose," I mumbled.

"Okay, that's a start," Dr. Allen said. "We can build on that." Then, turning to Mom, he added, "Well, Mrs. Braddock, do you think that's enough for today?"

"Yes," Mom answered. "I think it is."

"Okay," he said. "If it's possible, I'd like to see you back here next week."

"Sure. Is Thursday at 4:30 good for you? That's the only day she doesn't have anything to do after school."

"No problem," Dr. Allen said warmly. "See you then."

Mom nodded, and the two of us headed out the door.

It was still raining as we were driving back to Stoneybrook. For the first ten minutes of the trip, neither of us said a word: Mom, because she was concentrating on her driving, or trying to, and me, because I was still trying to deal with my outburst back in the office. Even though Dr. Allen was right about me needing to get it out in the open, part of me still resented him a little for pushing me as hard as he did.

"Hungry, sweetie?" Mom finally asked.

"A little," I admitted. "How does Tim Horton's sound?"

"Okay. I've been wanting some of their wintergreen tea for awhile now. How about you?"

"Sure, and a tuna melt sounds good, too."

"No problem, " Mom said, and we pulled into the drive-thru and got our food: two piping-hot wintergreen teas, a turkey Reuben for Mom, and a tuna melt for me.

"Haley, I know you're probably tired of hearing people tell you this, but it's all going to be okay now," Mom said sometime after we got back on the road.

"Thanks," I said softly. "And actually, it's hearing people tell me I'm a screw-up that I'm sick of."

"Hey, you're not a screw-up," Mom told me. "A screw-up wouldn't have tried to step in when Charlotte couldn't take that sitting job, or even come to Matt's rescue the way you did. And speaking of which, I'm still sorry for how I treated you at the hospital. I had no right to blow up at you like that."

"No, you were right," I sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, all this time, I've been acting like a victim, feeling sorry for myself," I answered, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Self-pity isn't one of my attractive personality traits."

Mom reached over and patted my hand, but said nothing.

After taking a sip of my tea, I continued, "I've spent my whole life holding my breath, worrying that something was about to spin out of control. That's part of the reason why I got into cheerleading in the first place. I just wanted to find a way to escape from all the insanity, but even that didn't stop me from being afraid of something terrible happening. And then, last month, it did. I don't know who I am anymore, Mom. The girl I was died at that game. And I don't know how, or if, I'll ever get her back."

I thought for sure that Mom was going to tell me not to be so hard on myself (as if I'd never heard that one before), but as it turned out, she didn't have to, because the song that started playing on the radio said it all:

"There've been times in my life I've been wonderin' why.

Still, somehow I believed we'd always survi-i-ive; now, I'm not so sure.

You're waiting to hear one good reason to try.

But what more can I say? What's left to provi-i-ide?

You think that maybe it's o-over, only if you want it to be-e.

Are you gonna wait for a si-ign, your miracle?

Stand up and fight!

"(This is it) Make no mistake where you a-are

(This is it) Your back's to the cor-orner

(This is it) Don't be a fool anymo-ore

(This is it) The waiting is over-r-r..."

I don't know why, but the words in that song really put things into perspective for me. Right then and there, I realized that there were other people who've had some bad breaks in their lives, and how childish and petty I was for thinking I was the only one. I hear you, man, I thought to myself. I hear you.

THE END