She had a psychotic breakdown afterwards. She's been here a while.
Sometimes I imagined killing Derrick. I hated myself for thinking it. I didn't know why I was thinking it but the thoughts came to my mind and they scared me. I would see him after leaving this place and I would just choke him. Or beat him. One dream I shot him over and over and over. I woke up in a panic attack. I told my therapist and I know she wrote I was a danger to myself and others. She says the rage and feelings of betrayal were normal feelings to have. Though, murderous thoughts would keep me here longer.
"For over a year he's been a constant in your life and now he's not. You're hurting and that's okay."
"I stabbed him. Right in the throat in my dream."
"Did you ever have dreams like that about the men who assaulted you?"
"Yes."
"Would you put Derrick and those men in the same category?"
"Never."
"Derrick putting you here made you feel as powerless and disposable as they did. Maybe it made you feel even worse because he was good to you—because he was nothing like them and in your mind you're categorizing him and the other men the same."
The third month I got my phone back and I was allowed to have visitation two times a week. After six months I would be able to have twenty four hour leaves. I didn't want to think I would be here for that long but realistically I would probably be hitting the year mark. There were thousands—actual thousands of missed texts, calls, and voicemails. They were mostly from Cameron, Carter and especially Rylie. I skimmed them. I don't let myself listen to them all. Carter graduated. I remember when we talked about it. How I said it would be fun to go and cheer when his name was called to embarrass him.
The day came and I wasn't there. Cameron was saying something in a voicemail about being nervous to be a senior and not knowing what he would major in when he got to college but apparently he was receiving offers to some top schools for basketball. He also says one of our favorite shows got cancelled. Rylies were short. They were sweet. He was pleading for me to call him back. To answer a text. I hated the way he sounds. I was causing that. I deleted the rest.
Before I delete everything I skim and search and there's nothing from Derrick. I had notifications from Chase but not him. Not a text. Not a call. He hated me. I didn't blame him. Not after what I did. After what I said. It was mortifying thinking of how I acted that day. I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. I wouldn't be able to apologize enough. He had every right to not want anything to do with me.
I propositioned him for sex. I made a nasty comment about his wife and his intentions of fostering me. Derrick. The same Derrick that held me when I cried. The Derrick that didn't make me feel alone. The Derrick that always kept his eyes closed when he was helping me in and out the shower. The Derrick whose hands never roamed. Eyes never drifted. He was the absolute last person who would ever do that to me and still I made the move. I tried thinking he would. I thought of him the same as everyone else. Derrick wasn't everyone else and now I lost him. I lost his kindness. I lost his family.
I didn't hate him. I wish I could tell him that but it probably wouldn't make a difference. He was there and I was here.
"How will I want to stay alive when I know no one is going to be waiting for me if I leave? I don't have anything beyond this."
"You don't think anyone will be there?"
"No. I don't."
"Have you tried to make amends with Derrick and his children? I think if they care about you the way you've spoken about them then it wouldn't be too hard."
