Exit Wounds

19 | big girl

          "Oh, so now you trust Michelle?"

          "No. Neither do you, but it's a safety net you didn't have before."

          I grit my teeth. "I can't make a decision today. Not like this. I'll have to sleep on it, then make a decision in the morning, but this isn't how I want to deal with . . . with everything. I've been reliving my trauma for nearly a week, I've been having horrible conversations back to back to back, and I haven't had a moment to breathe since I've been here." I break free from her hold on my wrist, even though she wasn't holding it too tightly, and make my way toward my precious couch in the living room. The bed is probably better suited for my current needs and low energy levels, but I don't have the courage to drag myself to the bedroom. The sugar crash from all the cookies and the iced caramel latte I downed on the way home is slowly approaching. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, including after all the events from the past couple of days, and I'd really appreciate you not pressuring me into choosing to do something I might not be ready for. I wasn't ready six years ago, and let those lawyers intimidate me. I can't risk letting it happen again."

          Sadie slowly nods, closing the door behind her, and a gentle breeze enters the living room. "I know. I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

          "I need to rest."

          She sits next to me on the couch, which is large and wide enough to easily fit the two of us. "You'll be okay. You'll figure it out." I chew on the inside of my bottom lip, sincerely wishing I was able to have that much blind faith in myself and my resilience. I don't know how she does it, how she keeps believing in my potential even after all my mistakes. "You're not alone in this. Remember that." 

⊹˚. ♡

          Sadie's unbelievable, unwavering faith in me does wonders to my self-esteem, but I'm also blaming my newly found refreshed mood on my afternoon nap. I don't necessarily feel well-rested, as I still have plenty of hours of sleep to catch up on, but the hangover and the sugar crash have mostly run out by now, and my mild discomfort is caused by a rumbling stomach.

          Michelle is there by the time dinner is ready to be served. Our relationship isn't repaired and I have serious doubts it will ever go back to how it used to be before it all went sour, before Adam, but I don't think she's expecting it to. There's some relief in that, in knowing I don't have to play the part of the extremely forgiving older sister, but it also allows her to set some of her bitterness aside so we can have one final pleasant evening together before we return to our normal lives, thousands of miles apart.

          We all eat in the living room, even though there's a perfectly adequate dining table sitting not that far, but that's the beauty of rice bowls—you can take them to the couch with you and you're far more likely to be more comfortable that way. Having something nutritious filling up my stomach and providing my body with valuable nourishment instead of just sugar also makes me more at ease to talk to Michelle, even though I still need to keep most of my walls set up as high as the eye can see.

          Much like Sadie, she also thinks I should go forward with pressing charges now that I actually have legal support, which only makes me feel like I'm being ganged up on, as it's three against one.

          Well, three against a tentative one.

          It's different when it comes from her, as she still has to save face around Adam so he won't suspect a thing, but my anxiety frequently prevents me from thinking rationally, and it leaves me feeling miserable over not being able to fully trust her. Even when she swears on a pinky promise, the most sacred of gestures, that she's fully on my side and is merely looking out for the two of us, there's an evil voice in my head pointing out I'm falling for the bait and heading straight towards a trap.