Our love couldn't go wrong

Chapter Nineteen :

Tw for descriptions of a breakdown and mentions of self harm/suicidal ideation (idk if that's the right way to put it, but better safe than sorry)

The car ride back to Shayne's is quiet - tense, almost - both of them needing time to decompress after the long, draining day at work. She's so exhausted. It's like all the energy has been depleted from her body and she's still trying to process everything that's happened over the course of the past half a week.

On top of that, work was weird today. Not bad, per se, but just...yeah, weird. She's not sure. Maybe it was the fact that everyone was staring at her, talking about her, pitying her. It wasn't like they were doing it to her face (whether that helped or made matters worse, she's not sure), and there certainly wasn't any malice behind it, either. A part of her almost wishes there was. And she gets it, really. She'd probably do the same if she was in their shoes. She doesn't know.

Everything just made her feel so out of place, so dehumanised; people going behind her back thinking she wouldn't see, wouldn't hear, wouldn't know.

She did.

She's sick of being treated like a child. She's not fragile - she's not cracked glass that'll completely shatter if the wind so much as blows in her direction. This is her fault. Everyone should be holding her accountable, not pitying her and passing the blame to someone else. And they certainly shouldn't be waiting on her hand and foot, not letting her do anything for herself.

It's not like she doesn't want to be grateful. She really does. It isn't lost on her that her coworkers - her friends - are only doing this because they care, because they want to help and don't know how else to do so, and she appreciates that and them so much. But it's suffocating. She hates the attention but even more so, she hates the feeling of helplessness that comes with it.

The near-sudden stopping of the car is all she needs to know that Shayne's pulled into the garage and she finds herself scrambling out of her seat, desperate to escape the warmth and unease.

It's not particularly cold out but she feels the hairs on her arms stand on edge as a shiver runs through her body, breeze just cool enough to chill her burning cheeks.

"You okay, Court? You feeling sick again?" The feeling of Shayne's hand ghosting her back accompanied by the concern dripping into his voice has her feeling dizzy and her stomach churning. He's so quick to ready himself to comfort her if she needs it. And she does. But she doesn't want to; he's been...so kind to her, so selfless and understanding throughout everything, and she can't handle it anymore. She can't keep putting her problems on him, it's not fair, it's - "Come on, let's get you inside and sat down. It's been a long day, huh? I can imagine how overwhelmed you must be feeling right now."

His hands move either side of her, clasped around her arms so that he can gently lead her away from the car and closer to the apartment. Even as he unlocks the door a hand stays on her at all time. She's not sure she'd still be upright, otherwise.

The door clicks shut but Shayne doesn't even stop to lock it behind them, too focused on leading them to the safety of his bedroom just in time for the tears to fall. She's just so frustrated and tired and angry and hurt - it doesn't feel like she's in control of her own body or mind, her skin is crawling and she wants to rip her hair out, the room is spinning and she doesn't realise how much she's trembling until she shakily climbs into his lap. And she sobs and sobs and sobs.

What is wrong with her?

"It's okay, you're okay; you're gonna be alright, Courtney," He hushes, rocking her against his chest whilst he rubs her back, "I've got you. I've got you."