“They’re not involuntary,” Lily said. “They’re misregulated. There’s a difference.”

“I used to think control meant never breaking,” she said. “Now I know: control is choosing how you put the pieces back.”

“Move!”

Control had never been the lock. It had been the cage.

She woke in the nurse’s office with a cut on her cheek and a note that said Possible absence seizure. Follow up with neurologist. The nurse handed her an ice pack. Lily handed it back. She didn’t need ice. She needed to understand why her body had betrayed her.