Flashback!

Sarah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her temples were wet from the slow, steady stream of tears she released as a matter of habit.

"How you doing today, babe?" Zack asked her slowly and deliberately. She blinked once in recognition and spoke softly. "Ok."

He rubbed her hand soothingly. She had been awake for two hours now and had hardly moved. This wasn't a good day, but it wasn't the worst. It was slightly below average. He knew if he could get her hooked into a conversation it might get her out of bed. He put her cup of coffee on the nightstand. "So, you wanna talk about the treatment next week?"

Another blink. "Ok."

She sat up to drink her coffee. This was a trick he had learned - bring her a nice drink and she had to sit up to drink it. Sitting up was a good step toward standing up. It got her blood flowing and made her engage with the world a little bit. He was starting to hope they could turn this day around.

He sat next to her and massaged her shoulders gently. "I think this could be really good for you. Dr. Simon said this is the most promising treatment to come out in decades."

She slumped down, coffee forgotten. He handed it to her and she lifted her head to take a sip. "Ok."

"Listen, babe, I've been researching this thing. This phenomenological anesthesia, they say it completely changes you for a while. It completely removes the depression. Everything feels good for a little while, you're still you but you're happy and content."

"That's... not me." She spoke slowly, looking at him for the first time. "That's not me. I'm not happy. If I'm happy I'm not me anymore. I belong where I am. If you take away the depression there'll be nothing left." A beat passed. "Maybe that's for the best, though. Maybe the world is better with a different me in it."

He knew where this was going and headed it off at the pass. "No, no, Sarah, listen, it's still you. You are not your disease. You are not your disease. I know it feels like it. It feels like this is all you are and all you'll ever be. But it's not, and this treatment will help you rediscover who you are without it." Her head dropped again and she let out a strangled sob. "Hey, say it. I need to hear you say. Say 'I am not my disease.'"

"...I am not my disease." She muttered weakly.

"Again."

"I am not my disease."

"Ok." He lightly rubbed her back. "I know you don't feel it. But it's good to say it. What we tell ourselves matters. You need to remind yourself of these things even if you don't feel them, right?" She stared at the ground without responding.

"Now, we need to talk a little bit about what happens during your treatment, ok?" She nodded. "Now, the research indicates that you may need a little help. That's why I'm taking the week off, to help you." He deliberately stopped there, hoping to draw her into the conversation by piquing her curiosity.

It worked. She looked up. "What kind of help?"

"Well, you'll be, you know, feeling good. So good, apparently, that your judgment might be a little impaired." He paused again, like an angler trying to get a bite.

"Impaired?" Her voice now took on a note of concern. It was a welcome change from her usual bleary monotone.

"Yeah," he said, getting into it. "You're so used to not being happy that being happy will be weird for you. So weird that you might make some rash decisions. Think of like getting superpowers. If you suddenly got the ability to, say, turn invisible, you'd want to use it all the time. You'd want to run around being invisible everywhere. But that means you could inadvertently put yourself in harm's way. What if you stepped out into the street, forgetting that drivers couldn't see you? What if you bumped into somebody carrying hot coffee and got scalded? In your excitement about your new power, you might do something you'd regret."

She slowly took all of this in, sipping her coffee. "I don't care what I do. It won't be me. It'll be some other person, some woman on happy pills. I'll be dead."

Zack once again steered the conversation away from that topic immediately. "No, you'll be you. The things you do will matter. What if you posted something private on facebook? What if you walked around naked? What if you told your parents about us having sex? The things you do will matter."

Her eyes widened as she considered those scenarios. "No, no, no! We can't- I- We have to call it off!" She started breathing rapidly, her eyes darting around the room. "I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't-"

He cut her off to stop her repetitive spiral. "You can. You need to. Sarah, this is going to help. You need something, you need this. Don't worry about all that stuff. I'm gonna take care of you." He wrapped her in a tight hug.

Her breathing slowly returned to normal. When she seemed ok again, he released her. Now she was becoming lethargic again - panic attacks always sapped what little energy she had. "You're gonna take care of me?" She asked thickly.

"Yeah, babe, I've got you covered. I just wanna talk through it with you beforehand. I just want to make sure we're on the same page." He lifted her hand and kissed it softly.

"Don't let me do any of that stuff." She said, back to her monotone. "Don't let me do anything bad."

He nodded. "I won't. I promise."

Sarah startled him by grabbing his hand and looking in his eye, speaking emphatically. "Don't. I don't care what you think, it won't be me. I'll probably tell you I'm me. I'll tell you it's fine, that this is how I would behave if I wasn't depressed. That doesn't matter. I am depressed, I'll always be depressed, and I need you to swear to me that you won't let my other personality do anything I'd regret. I don't care what she says. She isn't me. Remember that - she isn't me. I'm me, and I need you to protect my life from her."

He was shocked at this outburst. That was longest string of words he'd heard from her in weeks. "I swear, Sarah. It will be you but I won't let you down."

She was starting to droop again, the conversation having taken its toll. "Don't trust her. Don't... trust her. She'll say she's me, but she's not. She's a good person wearing my skin. I'm a bad person... I don't deserve to be her. She's a better me, don't leave me for her..." Sarah trailed off. He grabbed the half-full coffee cup before she spilled it. Her whole body was sagging as if she was ****. He helped her back into a prone position. Her voice was now barely a whisper and she was speaking incredibly slowly.

"You'll fall in love with her ... you'll hate me ... you'll never want to ... see..." Her voice slowed and stopped mid-sentence. Zack gave her one last look and went to rinse the coffee mug.