Page 107 of You’re No Better

finally figured out what happened to Daniel

bad reaction on the operating table

the evidence looks sooo fucking bad

haha fuck

I swear to god you better be okay

Morgan

I deleted all my recordings of you btw

I’m sorry

Felicity

I lived bitch

Morgan

oh so the first thing you send me is a fucking meme

Felicity

AAAAHAHAHAHA

Footage, camera 3:

[A white woman steps out of her car in a parking garage in the vicinity of XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Hospital, discarding a white knit hat and heavy coat to reveal a red sweater and black skirt.]

Labeled “evidence,” “footage,” “Mom,” and “the investigation.”

[Missed Call: USP EAST EARLY]

Morgan

Alyssa?

! Message failed to send

I wanted to say thank you. And I’m sorry.

! Message failed to send

Dr. Lý says that, technically speaking, she needs to enter a diagnostic code for insurance to cover our sessions, so which do we want to use?

It won’t be a permanent diagnosis or anything. Only a placeholder until we can come to a more educated conclusion. But if I put some thought into it, and really use it as a starting place, I can pick the codes myself. As long as I don’t tell my social worker.

What the hell. Sure.

Dr. Lý hands me a packet of possibilities from her desk. Giving me the whole DSM-5 would be too unwieldy, she says, and besides, there’s no use in having me comb through the entries for autism or gender dysphoria. Those are insultingly obvious, not to mention already on my record. Dr. Lý even wrote my pronouns at the top of her notes.

Settled into the office couch, I browse the list and select three. A trauma disorder, clearly. Something from the obsessive-compulsive category, too; I hesitate here for a moment, rereading the diagnostic criteria a few times with a frown before deciding it’s the closest I’m going to get. Then, finally, a Cluster B personality disorder for good measure.