Rehab Love

One | Start of a New Beginning

Going away. Rehab. A new life.

The words blurred in my head. The doctors just wouldn't stop going on about sending me away. And everytime, to every nurse, every therapist, I met them with a glare.

My parents often sat beside my bed. They looked tired and worn-out, life drained from their eyes. My mother cried so much the first few days I'd been here. My dad was silent, except for the occasional 'how are you's.

Bouquets lined my bedside windows. They were so colorful when they got here. But as days progressed, they were withered and breaking. Balloons deflated. The stuffed bears no longer looked as cheerful. Surprisingly, I had kept them in here for almost a week. But I finally couldn't bear to see them anymore. I'd told the nurses to throw them all out; every card, every ounce of false care.

I didn't want any of this.

They all thought they knew me. Or at least what I was going through. I could hide behind smiles forever; all people wanted to see was that I was happy. Because being happy didn't require extra care or attention. Me being happy held their perceptions true, like a fitting puzzle in their own, optimistic world.

Days passed by without my knowledge. Everything blended together. Suddenly, I was out of the hospital, back in my bedroom.

I think I spent a few days just lying in my bed. My parents went back to their usual routines. I barely saw them around. Our housekeeper, Ms. Lucinda, left food, cleaned up, and even attempted to cheer me up a few times. But nothing could hide the pity in her eyes, as it pierced right through my numb heart.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●

It had been another day of me just staring at the ceiling. Before I could even turn, my mother stormed into my room.

Her normally-perfect blonde hair was oily and disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and stained. Her eyes looked frantic and teary as she approached my bed. I sat up and glanced at her indifferently, waiting for her to state her business.

"The police finally found him."

Coldness gripped my body. I stared at her, frozen to the spot. My hands started to shake.

"W-wh-what's gonna h-happen now?" I stuttered, attempting but failing to hide the tremors. I didn't even notice, until I felt wetness on my cheeks, that I was crying. My mother stared back with a brief look of sympathy.

To my shaky question, her face twisted.

"Well the lawyers told me he has the possibility to post bail. His charges weren't enough to prevent that," she spat, disgusted.

If felt as if a knife was twisted into my stomach. I suddenly felt myself heave. I ran to my bathroom, heading straight for the toilet.

After a few unwanted, intimate minutes with my retching head in the bowl, I leaned back only to break down again.

Sobs shook my entire body. I was hunched over on the cool tiles. My body felt so foreign, my spirits completely drained out. I heard a gentle click of my bedroom door in the distance.

It felt like hours before I got myself up from my bathroom floor. My head was dizzy from getting up.

My eyes landed in the mirror. Greasy blonde hair and dull green eyes. My normally-tanned skin lacked color. But most of all, my eyes fell on the patches and bandages on my arms, the redness peeking through. The dots were still visible, some of them even with an angry red tingr. Beneath the bandages, I knew there were gashes, some faded and some fresh.

With still-trembling hands, I gently peeled back one of the gauze. I hissed in a pain that seemed so familiar, but all so distant.

I was reminded of him, and the news from earlier. Sudden numbness washed over me. Giving one glance at the familiar cabinet, I got to work.