Author's Note: Hello again! So, this is the latest piece I've been working on and since Shadows on the Wall is nearing its completion (I'm in the process of writing/editing the last handful of chapters now), I figured that now was as good a time as any to post it. The title is a reference to the Bright Eyes song of the same name, definitely check it/the album out if you haven't already heard it, it was definitely one of those albums that got me through my adolescence. This fic will focus on a teenage Delphine and Cosima and a strong strong trigger warning does apply: mental illness and discussion of suicide are prominent features in this piece. I don't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, so if reading about these two things isn't your cup of tea or too personal of an issue for you, you may not want to jump into this one. I suppose I should also clarify that I am in no way trying to speak for/represent an entire group of people, ie. those who suffer from mental illness. I'm trying my best to create something that feels honest and as someone who has suffered with my own crippling mental health issues since my teenage years, I can only write from a place that's rooted in my own experiences. In short, if you also suffer from any sort of mental disorder and find that it's nothing like what's depicted in this story, just keep in mind that it's based on my individual and subjective experience with mental illness. Likewise, if you've never suffered from any sort of mental illness, I don't want you to think that this story is accurate in depicting what everybody's struggle is like. I hope you will keep this in mind through the course of this journey. Now that all of that's been said, I hope you'll all be able to enjoy this piece for what it is. Comments and criticisms are definitely much appreciated, as always. I take them all to heart and try to improve on my writing abilities through feedback.

The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she watches tiny drops of precipitation descend down the transparent plane. Her mother's muted words buzz gently in the background like the familiar static of an empty television channel; she's aware of them on a sensory level, but they fail to truly permeate. She's more in tune with the buildings that go whizzing by, the splash of water that's kicked up when they drive through a puddle or the slight bump she feels when they cross an uneven patch of road.

She never used to be so disjointed from her surroundings. She could carry on a conversation while reading a book, finish her homework while Skyping with her friends back home, even make herself dinner on one of her nights sans parents while Jeopardy played on the small kitchen television and she competed alongside the contestants.

But now?

The incessant garble of the radio in conjunction with her mother's words and the steady pitter-patter of rain on the windshield had forced her to lean forward and turn the damn thing off before her head exploded. Her mother had just looked at her with a narrowing of the eyes and dismissed it, but every so often, as she continued to speak and drive and the young girl continued to stare out the window in silence, her eyes would drift over to the right to find her daughter again and the smallest frown would creep upon her face.

"Delphine?" her mother asks, her voice slightly raised. "Are you listening to me?"

Her mother's voice roots her back in reality and she turns her head to acknowledge the older woman with a brief nod.

"Oui, Maman."

Her mother expels a deep sigh and her grip on the steering wheel tightens. Delphine pretends not to notice, turning her attention back out the window with a glazed-over look in her eyes. She doesn't need to look at her mother or even engage with her to see the concern that's bubbling underneath, sheathed in impatience.

"I want you to-"

Her mother stops mid-speech, trying to carefully choose her next words. It's as if she's walking through a minefield and in a way, she is. This is how people behave around her now; every word, every action, is selected and carried out with surgical precision, mindful not to strike any vital organs. She would find it exhausting, except she's too exhausted with herself to let an outsider distract her.

"Can you please just give this a chance?" her mother finally settles on. "It will be good for you."

"D'accord."

Her response is as shallow as a wading pool and her mother is unconvinced.

"I know you don't want to, but I think that-"

She stops herself, yet again.

"We're all worried about you, Delphine. We all care about you so much. If you won't do this for yourself, then at least do it for me. Do it for Papa."

She wants to scoff at her mother's plea. A month ago, it would have garnered her a light smack in the back of the head and a scolding about respect, but she knows that it would go unchallenged now. Even still, she holds her tongue. There's no satisfaction in scoring on an empty net. Besides, she was never a rebellious teen to begin with. It would feel too dishonest, even as she sat there in all her dishonesty.

"Nous sommes ici," her mother proclaims as they pull into the parking lot.

Delphine's heart flutters.

Her mother parks the car and turns the ignition off. She unbuckles her seatbelt and is about to open the driver's side door to exit, but she stops when she notices that her daughter hasn't so much as moved a muscle.

"Delphine," she goads.

Delphine frowns, then unbuckles her seatbelt.

"You don't have to come with me," she says.

"I'm your mother. I should be there."

"You can't sit in on the appointment, anyway. There's no point in you coming inside just to sign me in. I can do that myself," she says with a hint of defiance.

If she has any hope of doing this, she can't have her mother standing right there, holding her hand. For all of her hesitation and hardheadedness surrounding the situation, she knows that her parents are right. She needs to do this. She needs to do this alone.

"Delphine..."

"Don't you trust me, Maman?"

She makes her voice sound smaller and softer, like it was when she was a child. She knows that it's a low blow, a crafty tactic on her behalf, but she also knows that it's effective. Her mother takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, composing herself.

"D'accord. I'll be here waiting for you at six o'clock."

Delphine tries to offer her the most genuine smile that she can muster. Satisfied, she leans forward and kisses her mother on the cheek. She sees the tremble in the woman's lower lip and she quickly opens the passenger's side door and scrambles out before they have a chance to exchange any more words.

The rain has let up considerably since they left the house. Even still, it does nothing for her unruly curls which have become nothing short of a puffy pile of frizz at this point. She retrieves a hair elastic from her pocket and ties it back, trying her best to contain the beast. She slowly makes her way to the main entrance of the building and stops before the large glass doors. She reaches for the brass handle with a trembling hand, but before she can open it, the door swings open and almost knocks her on her feet. She quickly takes a step back to clear the way for another woman, a girl in her late twenties with a cup of Starbucks in one hand, phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder as she speaks into it loudly.

"Sorry. Didn't see you there, babe," she says dismissively before stalking away.

Delphine frowns at the woman's rudeness. Things are already off to a rocky start and if she wasn't discouraged before, she certainly is now. Shaking the encounter out of her mind, she pulls open the door for herself and steps through it. She's standing in a rather large lobby, surrounded by elevators and a concierge desk in front of her. She takes a quick look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Can I help you with anything, miss?" the man at the desk asks.

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so she closes it again and reminds herself to breathe. After a few deep breaths, she offers him a weak smile and nods. She finds the building directory located on one of the walls and she walks over to it, eyes scanning.

"Twelfth floor," she mumbles to herself.

She then walks over to an elevator, pressing the button and waiting for the doors to open. When she finally gets inside of the compartment, she releases a sigh of relief at having the small space to herself. That is, until a man comes running in her direction, yelling for her to hold the doors. She panics, unsure of how to react, but he manages to close the distance in time, sticking his arm between the closing doors and forcing them to open again. He slots himself inside next to her and pushes the button for the tenth floor. A woman and her young child also rush the doors, making it inside in time before they close and pushing the button for another floor. Trapped in the elevator with three strangers, Delphine feels her chest begin to constrict and she slams her eyes shut, trying to will the sinking feeling away. The child is rambling on and on, jumping up and down and tugging on his mother's arm as she tries to get him to behave. The man turns to her with a smile on her face.

"What a nasty day outside, huh?" he asks, trying to make conversation.

She's painfully aware of the minimal space between herself and these other bodies, of the different voices and personalities all clashing and begging for her validation at the very same time. She suddenly wishes that her mother had come with her because now the man is giving her a strange look and the child is yelling louder and the woman is kneeling down, scolding him. They're all in her space and there's no escape, no way to avoid them and she feels her head beginning to go fuzzy. That's when the door stops and the woman drags her child out of the elevator, leaving just her and the man alone.

"Are you... okay?" he asks her.

"I... I..."

She isn't sure how to respond, or if she can even respond at all. Thankfully, the man arrives at his stop before things have a chance to escalate. He gives her one last, lingering look of confusion before exiting. The doors close again and finally, she has solitude.

"Merde," she curses under her breath.

She wants to cry.

She wants to bury herself in a hole and cry.

The doors chime open and the world is suddenly available to her again... momentarily. She quickly makes her way out of the elevator and she's standing in a tastefully minimalistic waiting room, with a row of black leather chairs lined against one wall, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of magazines on top. Even the obligatory waiting room ficus seems to be meticulously and strategically placed and the entire set up of the room makes her stomach churn. She saunters over to the desk on the far side of the room, where the receptionist is typing away at her computer. When she notices Delphine standing in front of her, she looks up.

"Can I help you, sweetheart?" she asks.

"I... I have an appointment?" she replies, uncertain in her words.

The woman smiles.

She's a little older, most likely falling somewhere in her forties. Her sandy blonde hair is piled atop her head in a messy braid and starting to noticeably grey in certain areas. Her face is round, crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, but her smile is warm and her demeanor is reassuring. Delphine returns it with one of her own, feeling better already.

"Are you Delphine?" the woman asks, glancing over to her computer monitor.

"Yes," Delphine nods.

"Okay. Great," the woman replies. "Doctor Leekie's just seeing another patient right now, but he should be finishing up very shortly. If you'd have a seat, he'll come and get you when he's ready."

"O-Okay. Thank you."

She meanders over to the row of chairs, dropping down in one. Despite its expensive appearance, the chair is painfully uncomfortable and she squirms around, trying her best to find an acceptable position. There's one other person in the waiting room, a man who looks to be a few years older than herself, but his presence is nonthreatening and unassuming as he sits quietly in the corner with his head down and hands tucked into his pockets. She glances around the room, focusing on the ticking clock mounted on the wall, the wallpaper, an overly-airbrushed picture of Katy Perry on the cover of some magazine and, of course, that damn ficus. The room is quiet, aside from the steady click-clack of the receptionist's typing and the ticking of the clock. That is, until a door bursts open and the room suddenly becomes a lot smaller.

"Yeah, I got it!" the intruder shouts back into the room that she's leaving. "I'll be sure to tell the parentals!"

She closes the door behind her and nearly skips over to the desk with a grin on her face. Delphine's eyes follow her the entire time, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be about her own age, with brown hair and a pair of glasses settled on her face, but a bit shorter and definitely quite a bit more boisterous. She's wearing a colorful cardigan with a bunch of dangly bracelets on her wrists that rattle as she moves them.

And does she move them.

Every word that leaves her mouth is emphasized by a flick of the wrist, a twisting of the fingers. Delphine has never seen someone talk so eagerly with their hands before, and despite typically finding such stimulation overwhelming in her current state, there's something mesmerizing about this girl's presence. A nervousness settles in, but it's different than her regular anxiety. She doesn't feel threatened or overwhelmed by her presence, merely... curious.

"Will I be seeing you again next week?" the receptionist asks her.

"Same time, same place, as always. You know I can't resist coming to see you, Denise."

The receptionist - Denise - laughs. The girl flashes her a grin. The two say their fond goodbyes and the girl finally starts walking over in her direction. Delphine freezes up as she approaches, then catches her own behaviour and tries to appear more natural, more comfortable. She squirms a couple of times in her seat.

"Yeah. They kind of suck, huh?"

She looks up.

The girl is speaking.

To her.

"The chairs," she clarifies with a chuckle. "Rich people will blow money on anything to make sure other people know that they're rich. Doesn't really mean it's a good investment, right? I'd rather sit in one of those plastic kiddy chairs at the dentist's office."

Delphine blinks, trying to process the words that are flying out of the girl's mouth at a rapid pace. She wants to say something, though she isn't sure what. So instead, she continues to stare. Instead of being insulted or confused like most other people are, the girl just offers her another smile, then points.

"That one."

"P-Pardon?"

"That chair," she says.

Delphine follows her finger to the chair three down from her own.

"It's the best one here. Trust me."

Delphine stares back at her. Before she has a chance to respond, the girl goes dashing over to the elevators, grabbing an iPod out of her purse and slipping the headphones on over her ears. She watches as the brunette dips inside the elevator, loud and pulsating music blaring from her headphones, and then the doors shut and she disappears.

Like a whirlwind, blowing through the area erratically and leaving no head unturned. Even after the elevator doors close, Delphine can't stop staring at them, as if she expects them to open again and the girl to manifest.

"Delphine Cormier?"

Her head darts in the direction of her name. She sees an older man standing in the doorway that the strange girl had come bursting out of only minutes before. He's smiling, but it isn't as reassuring as Denise's or as mystifying as the young chair guru's.

"I'm Doctor Leekie," he introduces himself. "If you're ready, why don't you come into my office?"

She nods, swallowing hard as she forces herself to her feet again and starts moving forward towards his office. She stops herself in the doorway, taking one last look back towards the elevators, waiting for something.

Denise is still typing and the clock is still ticking.

But the wind is still.