"Wait up! Wait up!"

Wednesday yelled as loud as she could into the sea of people she was trying to move through. But the bodies around her were thickly packed like sardines, blocking her path.

She pushed and pushed, only moving an inch at a time.

Over the tannoy, she could hear the announcement.

"Final call for passengers to board flight K2637. Final call. The gates will be closing in one minute."

"That's my flight!" Wednesday shouted breathlessly.

Using her arms to manoeuvre her way around the crowd even quicker, she saw the gate up ahead. With all of her energy, she made the final push through, taking a deep breath as she broke out of the crowd and onto the corridor.

Pulling her bag over her shoulder, her legs carried her as fast as they could.

"Stop, stop!" she shouted, seeing the airline staff placing a barrier over the doorway and removing the sign that called for passengers to board.

Through the large windows to the side of her, she could see her flight, stood stationary.

Finally, she made it to the stand, panting. She pointed to the doors.

"Please, that's my flight. I need to get on it."

"Sorry. The doors are now closed and we can't permit anyone on board."

Wednesday looked desperately to the plane, seeing they were now disconnecting the walkway to the plane.

"But I'm here, please?!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to book another flight."

With that, they placed a closed sign onto the desk and moved away. Wednesday stared dejectedly at the doors, feeling a familiar sense of hopelessness wash over her.

She moved to the window, watching the plane slowly start to back away. The one she was meant to be on. Her hand raised up to the glass, the only thing separating her from the flight.

Sighing deeply, a familiar sense of disappointment and longing coursed through her as she watched it travel further and further away.

She felt left behind. Forgotten.

Wednesday opened her eyes sharply, breathing heavily. Bringing her hand up to her forehead, she could feel the slither of sweat that had formed. She looked at the ceiling with furrowed brows. Another plane dream.

As she tried to ground herself back into reality, regulating her breathing, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Leaning over, she looked at the message.

She grinned at Zara's message, typing back.

With a yawn, having now calmed down from the dream her brain had conjured, she dragged herself from bed. Therapy was in an hour, her first session in two weeks. And though it was still a painful experience, she found herself not completely overrun with nerves in anticipation. In fact, she was almost...looking forward to it. Sade had a way with words, what could she say.

Once she'd showered and got dressed casually, slicking her hair into a low bun with some concealer and Vaseline on, she set off to the tube station. Usually she hated the underground commute, but lately she'd gained a newfound enjoyment of it. It meant that she was actually out, doing things, being proactive. Not cooped up inside, watching reruns of awful 80s films. Usually, she'd sit down and let her eyes wander, analysing others on the train and silently gaining inspiration for outfits and makeup looks. London was a lot of things, but one thing couldn't be denied; the people knew how to dress.

An hour later, she was back in the waiting room, waiting for her session to be called. She'd grabbed an iced coffee on the way, sipping it contently as she scrolled through her phone. Fans had noticed her absence from the sprinkling of shows Harry had performed in the new year and her twitter had been an absolute cesspit of questions about why ever since—was she ill? Had she quit? Had she fallen out with Harry? For that very reason, she'd tried not to go online too much, surmising that the repercussions would only make her feel worse.

Candid photos of Harry in Washington popped up on her timeline and she clicked on them to look through. He'd flown out a couple of days before, having a handful of appearances scheduled over the week or two he'd be in America. As she looked at them with a small smile on her lips, her name was called, and she raised her head to see Sade smiling over at her.

Once she entered the room she was now extremely familiar with, she took a seat and removed her puffer jacket, settling down for another hour of talking.

"How have you been Wednesday?" Sade asked, smiling earnestly.

"Okay, yeah," she said breathily.

"Good," Sade smiled, settling down and opening her notepad, ready to begin. "Firstly, did you manage to complete the task I set for you at our last session? To open up and express your emotions to someone?"

Wednesday nodded, sitting up further. "Yeah, I, uh...I did."

"And how did it go?"

"It was good," Wednesday said, pushing her hands under her legs. "Weird, but good."

"Weird in what way?"

"I guess weird in the sense that I'm not used to doing that...opening up. I don't know, I guess it just felt foreign to say exactly what I was feeling because usually I just push it down and ignore it. Especially with..." Wednesday stopped, realising she was about to say Harry's name. "Especially with my best friend."

"Is this the same best friend you mentioned last session?"

"Yeah."

"And it was him you opened up to, yes?"

Wednesday nodded.

"How did it make you feel? Being more vulnerable with him?"

"It felt," Wednesday began, thinking back to the morning after the brits where she revealed things to him that she'd never told another person. "It felt not as bad as I thought it would. And once I started it was actually kind of hard to stop. And he was really supportive too."

Sade smiled, writing something down in her notepad. "So, now that you've dipped your toe into expressing how you feel, do you see that it is something a lot simpler than what your mind has led you to believe?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do actually."

"That's great progress Wednesday. But in order to keep progressing, unlearning your unhealthy behaviours will take constant effort. So, don't let this be a one off. Try, if possible, to open up about one thing that's bothering you every week or two. It can be something as simple as saying you feel overwhelmed, or something deeper, maybe pertaining to your grief. But the more you open up, the more it becomes a second nature. Sound okay?"

Wednesday nodded, knowing that it sounded daunting but was necessary. Though it was uncomfortable, it left her feeling less clouded, less alone.

"Great. Back to our last session, I asked you to think back to moments throughout your life where you felt unlovable or worthless. Were you able to recall any of them?"

Wednesday laughed without much humour. "Yeah, I...I definitely could think of a few."

"Describe to me in those moments, what led you to think or feel that about yourself? Were there any common denominators, anything similar in each situation?"

Biting her inner cheek, Wednesday pondered over the question, feeling her heartbeat start to get ever so slightly quicker. She shifted uncomfortably, a sudden rush of nerves filling her.

"I guess, um...a lot of the moments were to do with comparison? And feeling inferior to...other girls."

It sounded pathetic. So pathetic, that Wednesday wanted to slide into the floor and let it swallow her whole. But Sade kept a neutral face, nodding in understanding.

"There were times too, um, on social media where some comments were made about—about me. About my appearance."

She bit her inner cheek harder, feeling the increasing urge to pick at her fingers. After ten years of this life, she'd learnt better than to consistently use social media or check her comments. It simply wasn't worth it. But sometimes, her heart ached for the 18-year-old girl who'd had to learn that lesson the hard way. The teenager who just wanted to fit in being singled out.

"The comments online—am I right in maybe thinking they stemmed from fans of the artist you work for? Your best friend?"

"Yeah," she smiled uncomfortably. "I guess when some people sit behind a screen, they think posting a tweet or a comment won't be seen by the person or whatever. And it's not all the fans, at all. But I guess some people just comment whatever they want online without really thinking about the consequences."

Sade nodded, her expression warm. "You mentioned that a lot of moments where you felt worthless were spawned because of comparison. What do you think was the reason for the comparison? Did someone say something or was it just an automatic thing?"

"I...I guess a mixture of all those things? When I was growing up, I guess I was what you'd call a tomboy. I played football and hung out with friends who were boys and didn't really wear girly clothes or makeup. And I think in that schoolground environment, comments got made. Typical, stupid ones."

"Like what?" Sade pushed.

Wednesday breathed out shakily. "That I looked like a man, that no boys would fancy me. They...some girls would call me a lesbian, as if it was an insult. Ugly, weird." She trailed off, looking down to her lap. "You get the idea."

"Do you think you internalized any of those comments Wednesday?"

"I..." she began, swallowing. "I don't know. Not intentionally." Looking around the room, she sighed. "But I think there came a point where I became, sort of, hyper aware of how I looked. And I realised that I didn't want to be just the girl boys were friends with. I wanted..." she looked down, embarrassed. "I wanted to be liked in the same way as other girls. So, I guess in the end, yeah. Those comments did have an effect on me."

At that revelation, pure sadness washed over her. She'd always liked to believe that the online trolls and schoolground bullies hadn't had an effect on her. That despite the way they'd made her feel, she'd not altered herself to fit their view. But now that she was speaking about it, it was blatantly obvious. Somewhere, deep within her, she'd believed it. Believed their harsh words. That she wasn't good enough, wasn't pretty enough. She'd been consuming it all unconsciously, their insults planting seeds of self-hatred and doubt deep within her.

"How does that make you feel Wednesday?"

She felt angry. Angry that it had happened and angry that she'd let it happen. Those people meant nothing to her and yet, they'd managed to cause such deep rooted damage to her soul that she didn't know how to let herself be loved. To let people in.

She fought back angry tears that sprung up.

"Angry."

"Why angry?" Sade pressed, keeping a calm face despite Wednesday's now obvious frustration at the revelation.

"Because," Wednesday said, her nostrils beginning to flare as she felt the pent up rage bubbling up. "Because the people that said those things—the girls at school, the online trolls. I've never cared for them. Never given any weight to their opinions. Or at least, that's what I thought. And now—now, I'm discovering the reason I feel so worthless, is because of them? I thought I'd always had power over my own life, my own identity. And now I've realised that isn't the case at all. So yes, I'm fucking angry."

She breathed heavily, flicking away the one tear that had forced its way out. Her cheeks were hot, even in the cool room and she felt like she'd taken a punch to the gut. Avoiding Sade's eye, she looked to the plants dotted around the room.

"Feeling anger is completely natural in this situation," Sade soothed. "It's odd, the way our minds work to internalise unpleasant comments without our knowledge. Don't feel disappointed in yourself Wednesday. It happens to just about everyone on this planet, whether they're aware of it or not."

Wednesday looked to her with furrowed brows. "Even you?"

Sade breathed out a laugh, nodding. "Even me. When I was 7 years old, a girl at school told me my hair looked ugly in its natural curly state. For the next ten years of my life, I straightened it every day for school. It was only in my 20s I realised how much damage that one comment had done to my self-esteem. Even now, I still have to actively ignore the part of me that wants to reach for the straighteners every time I do my hair."

Wednesday felt herself calm down at the story, safe in the knowledge that she wasn't alone. She sniffed, looking to Sade's curls.

"I think your hair is beautiful."

Sade smiled earnestly.

"We tend to be our own harshest critics. Where you may look and see imperfections, others see beauty. We can't help the comments that are made to us, but we can choose to not let them affect us. It just takes some practice, that's all."

Wednesday looked up to meet her eye, unsure of how she could ever reach a place where she felt like she was someone ready to be loved. Someone worthy. But she nodded anyway, trusting her direction.

"Do you remember any specific instances where you compared yourself to another female? And what, in those moments, led you to do that?" Sade asked, pushing the conversation forward.

Biting her inner cheek, Wednesday's lips pursed as her fingers began to pick at the skin on the side of her thumb.

"I, um...they're sort of hazy now," she said quietly, clearing her throat.

"Try to remember. Describe the ones that are clearest in your memory, if you can."

"Okay," she said shakily, taking a breath and looking up to the ceiling. "At school, there was this girl who was stunning. Really pretty. Blonde, petite. Everything I wasn't. And, uh...well I guess I just noticed that she was the type of girl all of my guy friends would look at, like all the time. Actually, she—she was the girl my best friend took to prom." Avoiding Sade's gaze, she continued nervously. "And I guess when I joined the band on tour, I...I used to compare myself to the girls they would date and stuff, just because they were so gorgeous. Yeah...I think maybe I felt slightly like an imposter. Like I wasn't pretty or skinny or—or cool enough to be there with them, sometimes."

She looked down to her hand, seeing the pink skin on her thumb that was now stinging. Embarrassment flooded her body at how stupid she sounded. For someone whose presence used to be so big, she'd never felt smaller.

Sade shifted on her seat, her eyes locked onto Wednesday as she leaned slightly forward. "In all of the memories you can remember where you compared yourself to another woman, was your best friend present?"

Wednesday looked up quickly, her brows furrowing. She was genuinely taken aback by the question, staring at Sade like she'd just been asked to describe the theory of relativity.

"Oh," she said, licking her lips anxiously. Her brain quickly ran through all of the moments she could recall. "I...I think so? Probably. We've not really been apart for 15 years."

Sade nodded, suddenly writing something in her notepad. Wednesday strained her eyes to see, knowing that she only did that now if she'd made some big revelation or breakthrough in her progress.

"You mentioned last session that you and he had an argument last Christmas regarding a situation that arose in the workplace, yes? What was that situation again?"

Wednesday fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure why the focus had now been shifted to Harry.

"He was...sleeping...with a member of the band, and I told him it was unprofessional."

"How did you find out about it?" Sade asked, her pen pausing on the paper.

She swallowed, speaking quietly. "I walked in on them. Together."

Sade's eyebrows rose at the fact. "And how did that make you feel? Finding them together?"

Sighing, Wednesday shook her head frustratedly. "I don't know. Angry? Confused? It's kind of a blur now."

"Think back Wednesday. Try to remember what ran through your mind."

Crossing her arms across her chest, she sank back into the sofa.

"I felt betrayed. And," she said, defensively shrugging. "And hurt. I remember seeing them together and just...running away."

"Why did you run away?"

"Because I didn't want to see it—them together in bed," Wednesday replied quickly, her lips set in a tight line. "I don't think that's odd really."

Sade wrote something down. Again. If she sensed Wednesday's opposition to the topic, she didn't let it stop her. "In other situations where you've seen him with another female, either someone's he dated or had relations with, how has it made you feel?"

"I—is this really relevant?" Wednesday asked, after biting her inner cheek so hard she could taste metal.

"If it means we manage to find more triggers that have contributed to your feelings of worthlessness, then yes, I would say it is. Remember Wednesday, this is a safe space. What is said here doesn't leave this room."

She looked at Sade's calm composure, eventually breathing out some of her resistance as she let her body loosen slightly. She thought about Harry's exes, the girls he dated, the ones he didn't. How they made her feel.

"Inferior," she said quietly, her fingers picking at skin again.

"Why inferior Wednesday?" Sade asked gently.

"Because...because," she stuttered, unable to find any words to say. "I don't know. That's just the way I feel."

"Okay." Sade clasped her hands together, looking past Wednesday as she seemed to gather her own thoughts before speaking again. "When you're alone, do you feel that same inferiority? For example, let's say you are walking down a street and pass a handful of different females. Would that be the way you still felt? Inferior in relation to them?"

Looking up confusedly, Wednesday shook her head. "No. I don't think so, anyway. If I see someone in the street that's really pretty, I don't instantly start feeling like I'm worthless."

Sade nodded, a gentle but inquisitive expression coming up on to her face.

"So why do you think that when in the company of your best friend and other women?"

Swallowing, she shrugged. Anxiety had started to make her heartbeat faster, her fingertips turning cold from the loss of blood. "I don't know."

"I think you do Wednesday," Sade replied in her gentle tone that was unsettling her even further.

"I—" she said, her voice as shaky as her heartbeat. "I know what you're insinuating and thinking, but it's not true."

"What do you think I'm insinuating?" Sade asked, sitting back with her hands clasped as she waited for her answer.

"That I have feelings for Har—for him." Wednesday could hear the blood pulsing in her ears, the slight tremble of her fingers. "But it's not true. He's my best friend, it's not like that."

Sade stared at Wednesday's wide eyed, anxious demeanour and smiled ever so slightly.

"Do you remember in our first full session, I said that we accept the love we think we deserve?"

Looking down and trying to steady her breathing, Wednesday nodded. "Yes."

"I explained how people who believe they're worthless or unworthy of love will reject the very notion of loving someone who truly cares about them as a defence mechanism. A way to protect their own emotions. That means that they will suppress any feelings they may have, because they don't feel deserving of that love."