The Fear Between Us

Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Your expectations.

The next few days of healing were like torture. The constant shifting between reality and dreaming, at some point, I couldn't tell what was real and what was not. It was all just some big giant nightmare. A constant loop of events reminding me that I'd never truly be free. Josephine spent most of her days in the hospital with me, yet it was obvious that she'd rather be somewhere else. I had refused to eat anything for the first week, every time food was placed in front of me it made me feel sick. I had also requested that all mirrors be covered... I just, I couldn't stand staring at the person who'd look back at me... That wasn't me. It can't be.

Every day they brought in a psychiatrist to talk to me and get me to tell them what happened, what made me want to die, and why I refuse to look at myself despite looking better. At least every single time she sees me she tells me I'm safe, but the dreams of Mikhail strangling me to death say otherwise, "How are you feeling today?" She begins with the same usual blabber of nonsense that doesn't help me in the slightest sense. The room is quiet, I can hear the clock ticking away the hours of wasted time, and I can hear Josephine holding her breath in anticipation waiting for me to speak even though she can't hear anything. I don't speak, I never say anything. The psychiatrist understands this, she knows that everyone else is holding me to a certain expectation that I'm just not quite already to fulfill. I sit stiffly in the wheelchair staring blankly at her face forgetting what day it is not remembering how many days have gone by. It's no use, she knows this too. She quietly gets up at the end of the session to exit the room as she shakes her head in defeat.

The dreams are always the same. It always starts in a cold dark room with Maxwell whispering my name, begging me to join her. Why did I join her? I'd never understand it, I already had everything, so why did I go searching for more? The more I try to say no the more she becomes aggressive and agitated forcing her to push me off the ledge with a tall silhouette blankly staring at my pain. When my body hits the ground I end up back in the hospital in a cold sweat breathing heavily as I search the room not seeing the same silhouette around the corner, as I plop myself back down he approaches heavily strangling me leaving me only to hear my heart monitor fade causing me to wake up in a panic attack which startles Josephine and in my frenzy, I don't always realise that she's not the enemy. Sometimes I dream about my time back in Russia, with that same dreadful voice torturing me again. A lot of the time it feels so real. This is why I have refused to sleep, I refuse to constantly force myself to wake up screaming. I refuse to constantly relive those moments in fear.

I have managed to somehow sneak myself out of my room and roll myself towards the walking post station, the first few tries I had trying to teach myself how to walk it ended up with me just hitting the floor from the wheelchair. Eventually, I managed to get it to a point where I was able to simply get out of the wheelchair, however, walking had seemed to be impossible. Despite standing with all my strength holding me up along the two bars, trying to convince myself that maybe walking wouldn't be that hard, as soon as I attempted to lift my foot my weight had given up on me making me collapse with a loud thud. Before I knew it Josephine had run into the room panicking, "Oh my God, Tara! What were you thinking?" She speaks with panic attempting to help me up, which only infuriates me more, "I'm fine, I'm fine!" I shout before pausing to realise what I have done, I breathe deeply calming myself before speaking again, "Just... just give me a moment." I say more quietly as Josephine sits down beside me waiting for me to say when I'm already. Slowly I begin to push myself up causing Josephine to stand up again at a distance understanding that I want to do this alone. That I need to do this alone, "Can you give me a hand? But don't pull me up, just hold it stiff." I say as she obeys helping me back into my wheelchair. I don't say anything as I can feel her eyes burn into my soul, "Have you been able to speak this whole time?" She asks, not sounding angry, more confused than disappointed, "I didn't want to say anything because I knew that you would hold me an exception that I just can't give you right now." I respond almost in a mid-sigh. Josephine nods quietly before speaking again, "Okay, and this? For how long have you been doing this alone?"

"It's the only thing that makes me feel like I still have control," I respond not daring to look at her in the eyes because I'm ashamed of how weak I've become. Josephine doesn't respond but doesn't leave me either. She goes quiet, allowing for the silence to fill up the room. She's suffocating and I know that but I have nothing else left to say, "Okay, let's try again." She responds quietly, this is her way of showing me that she still cares, that she'll still be patient as she helps out of the wheelchair and back towards the standing station with the two dreadful bars of defeat.