Under the Influence ✔

26.

I like the way the sun looks when it shines through the blinds in my bedroom, it's like it's fighting against the odds, breaking through a wall to lighten up a room even if the room doesn't want it. It's like the sun knows what's best for the room, like it knows that the darkness is dragging down the rooms mood and so it's forcing the happiness and the light so that the room can live up to its full potential. The sun is a lot like Wes in that way - stubborn and pushing sunlight on me, the dark room, when I only ever wanted was to be left alone.

 I wonder if this room misses the sun at night, if it feels cold and as if it's missing a part of itself like I do. I wonder if it regrets fighting the sun and pushing it away. I wonder if it regrets being stubborn and saying things it didn't mean. 

Wes has been gone for a week and everyday, ten times a day he calls or texts me asking if I'm okay or if I need him to come back home. Every day I say no and tell him I'm fine. I tell him to stop texting and calling, I tell him that I don't want him, that I don't need him - every day, ten times a day I lie to him.

I haven't left my apartment since he left. I've barely left my bed in the past week, only to use the bathroom and get some water. I've been mindlessly watching Netflix, not even paying attention to the characters and story lines as they play out before me. I haven't really eaten and I've only showered once or twice and I haven't answered any of my calls or texts, other than the ones from Wes and that's only because if I don't make him believe that I'm fine, he'll come back. I can't let him come back and ruin this opportunity, he needs to tour and I need to get my shit together. 

Laying here ignoring life and sleeping the days away isn't going to help me, it's not going to ease my mind and help me overcome my fear of relapsing. If anything, secluding myself and hiding is only going to make a relapse more likely. I need to be the person that I want to be, the one that I was so close to becoming before I let my mind run wild with what ifs and worst case scenarios.

"Okay, Luna, you can do this. You can fight the urges and the bad thoughts, you don't need Wes to hold your hand all the time." I keep repeating the pep talk over and over as I kick off the blankets and get out of bed, avoiding my reflection because I know that I look a mess and reflections and I have never really gotten along anyway. 

The first step is to take a shower, to wash away the last week and to start over feeling refreshed and with a sense of cleanliness instead of the stale smell that comes with wearing the same shirt for the past few days and hair knotted in so many places that I don't know if I'll ever be able to comb it out. I turn on the hot water and strip out of my t shirt and shorts, tossing them into the hamper, ignoring the noise that my stomach makes as I do so, reminding me of how hungry I am. 

My self confidence has always been an issue and is something that I'm aware I need to work on, especially with Wes no longer around telling me that I'm beautiful everyday and lifting my mood whenever he sees my smile falter even the slightest. Looks aren't everything and I know that - but right now I need make up and a cute outfit to make myself feel like I'm not a hideous monster. So I sit down and pull out my make up bag, applying the liquids and powders, blending, filling in, and curling until I'm satisfied. 

I blow dry my hair and straighten it, noticing how much it has grown in the past couple of months now that it's healthy and I'm healthy. Hailey should be proud, my hair has come a long way since we first met - crap - I'd forgotten to call and tell her that I wasn't coming in for my shifts, today makes three that I have missed and I'm sure she is one of the people that have been calling and texting me non stop this week. 

I rush to my closet and grab a pair of jeans, frowning when I realize that they're loose and I need a belt - I'd just bought these a few weeks ago and they fit just fine. Adding a tight fitted top and a matching cardigan, I sit on my bed and pull on boots. Just as I'm rolling the cuffs of my jeans someone begins banging on my front door. 

I don't look towards the room that Wes had been occupying as I make my way through the apartment to the door. When I look through the peep hole I see Hailey standing on the other side of the door with her arms crossed and McKenna behind her doing the same.

I pull the door open, "Hailey, I was just on my way to see you." I say at the same time she says, "Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been-"

"You were on you're way to-" We both stop when we realize that we're talking over each other again and I motion for her to speak first.

"Where have you been Luna? You haven't answered any of our calls or texts all week and no one has seen you. Wes said that you told him you're fine but you haven't been coming to work."

I can feel McKenna's eyes burning a hole in my head and when I look over at her, I can see her biting her lip and bouncing on her heels. "Are you okay?" I ask her, she's making me feel nervous by the way she's looking at me.

"I just...I need to know something." She steps around Hailey and now we're eye level while she stares intently into my eyes, making me feel even more nervous. I feel like we stand there like that for forever while Wes' sister watches, confused and full of questions of her own, but I know what McKenna is doing and I let her, for her own peace of mind.

"You didn't." She doesn't ask, just simply states the fact and I can see the relief wash over her.

"I didn't."

"What is going on here?" Hailey looks from me to McKenna and back again.

"Why don't you guys come inside and I'll explain everything." I step back as they enter the apartment, and I have no idea where to begin explaining everything that has gone through my head in the past week, but I'm so sick and tired of being a prisoner in my own mind and body, and I know that the only way to free myself is if I fully commit to this new version of myself.

I can't hide and keep to myself or ignore the bad thoughts and pretend that I'm okay when I'm not. I need to open up, I need to talk about the things that scare me, and I need to finally believe that I'm not a burden to the people that care about me. I was on that path, but I didn't have enough faith in myself to believe I could do it on my own - I was too dependent on Wes - but now I want to believe in myself the way he believes in me, and I know that I can.

I just have to face my demons first. I have to confront the problem.

With my friends sitting on my couch, I pace back and forth in front of them and tell them in detail every doubt and dark cloud that lives in my mind. I open up to them and tell them things that I have ever only told Wes, things that I told the doctors at Willmore, and things I had told Axel. I tell them about my family, my addiction, my insecurities, my fears, and I tell them about the times I thought that I should just end it - silence the noise once and for all.

And then I told them about this morning, about the new thoughts and the new perspective. I told them how I'm going to fight harder, be stronger, and do more. I told them that I'm not going to live in fear any longer, that I'm going to confront everything head one and that I love Wesley Tucker.

It's the first time I've ever said it out loud and it felt right - nothing has ever felt so right. I don't know why I had been fighting it for so long or why the words always seemed to get stuck in my throat, because it sounded so natural, like I'd been saying it my whole life. Finally saying those words, it was like the last string that had been holding me back had finally broken and I knew that this feeling would only be better when I was saying it to Wes and not the two girls sitting before me.

"You have to tell him. You have to tell him now, Luna. He's worried sick about you and he thinks he did something wrong. He wants to leave the tour. He-"

"That's why I was coming to see you. I know that I've missed a lot of work this week and I'm sorry, I know I'm probably fired, but if I still have a job I'm going to need some more time off." 

I can tell that they both know what I'm going to say next by the smiles on their faces, but Hailey asks anyway, "How much time off?" 

"About six months." 

"Done. Now let's get you packed."