Content warning: Drug addiction
Ellie's head rested against the car door's interior as buildings and street signs flew towards her and disappeared in a hypnotic blur. Between the radio's soft music that faded into road noise and the car's gentle bouncing, her eyes drooped. She had not slept in three days.
The seatbelt that dug into her neck was supposed to keep her awake, but her trust was misplaced, so she curled her fingernails against her forearm and pressed down. As soon as she felt herself drifting off to the car's lull, she jerked, her eyelids flying open and falling again to their tired but awake position.
The whole staying awake thing was proving more and more difficult. But if she wanted to avoid the nightmares that haunted her sleep, she had to avoid it at all costs.
Warm sunlight beat through the windshield, warming her flushed cheeks. Her eyes involuntarily closed for a brief second, then snapped open again. The car was pulling onto an entrance ramp, and she would have to fight even harder to stay awake through increased speeds.
She yawned and wiggled upright to make herself more uncomfortable. But her head was so heavy that she couldn't help but lean it back against the seat.
With the highway coming at her full speed, she sank further and further into the seat. She was so, so tired.
Without realizing it, the sights and sounds of the highway faded, until they were replaced with the gentle creaking of floorboards.
Instead of the sunny Los Angeles highway in front of her, Ellie stood before the terribly familiar entrance to Apartment 2C, the indicating number and letter screwed into the door. Shadows concealed secrets within the apartment building's dark corridor that she did not wish to know. The only thing that saved her from being sucked through the door was the startling sound of her name.
"Ellie. We're here."
She stuttered awake, sucking in a frightened breath. Daylight filtered through a tree as the car stood still in the psychiatrist's familiar parking lot.
She blinked to make sure she was really there, then let out a sigh. Familiar was good. Familiar kept her safe, just like Tessa and Joe did. As long as everything was familiar, then she knew she was not in any danger.
Her heart skipped a beat when she glanced to the side and saw that the driver was not Joe or Tessa, then settled again after realizing it was just Chase. He stared back at her, either oblivious or purposely ignorant to her reaction.
Chase was not the ideal person to be with at the moment, but she did not have much of a choice. She tried to get out of the tri-weekly therapy sessions by claiming she was too tired, but Tessa was having none of her excuses. She almost had Joe right where she wanted him, though. He would have caved had Tessa not stepped in.
Ellie reached towards the center console for the hat she wore when out in public. It was not much of a disguise, and photographers had not bothered her in so long, but she still did not want to take that chance.
Shaky fingers grazed the hat's rim, but her decreased motor function from a lack of sleep caused the hat to slip towards Chase's feet.
She muttered an apology as Chase retrieved the hat. When she reached for it, a rare sadness washed over Chase's now downcast eyes. She realized with a shock that his gaze lingered on the ring of scars wrapped around her wrist and hand like permanent bracelets, along with new crescent moon-shaped additions from her nails.
For Chase, every one of her scars probably served as a stark reminder of what she endured for his daughter.
Ellie snapped her hand back and shoved the hat over her hair. Chase cleared his throat.
"We're running late," he said to the steering wheel. "Probably best to head in."
With her heart in her stomach, Ellie opened the door and tried to ignore the window that reflected her exhaustion. Like the rings of a sawed off tree trunk that showed its age, her sullen eyes displayed the collected dark circles of sleepless nights.
Inside, she sat on the edge of the same familiar couch, stared at the same familiar coffee table, and expected to listen to the same familiar questions from Doctor Rosa. Except the psychiatrist seemed to have resolved to bring up as many painful topics as possible.
"Do you want to talk about what happened over the weekend?" The silver-haired psychiatrist sat in a chair across from hers with her hands folded neatly in her lap. The reference to when Joe and Tessa ran into Ellie's room a few nights prior upon hearing blood-curdling screams made Ellie cringe.
"It was just a dream..."
"A dream about what?" Doctor Rosa crossed her legs and sat back while Ellie kept tight lips. "Tessa told me you asked her to make it stop. What did you want to stop?"
Ellie's eyes fell and she fidgeted with her hands. She blinked long, tired blinks.
"The dream," Ellie said into the carpet. "I wanted it to stop."
"So you're remembering your nightmares now?"
She nodded.
"Your nightmares aren't about Him or the basement, are they?"
Ellie hugged herself and shook her head. Rosa always saw right through her; it was her job to do so. Even Tessa and Joe were convinced she was telling the truth about what she saw when she fell asleep, based on the way they frequently reassured her that no harm could come to her. Ellie would have written off Rosa's uncanny knack for reading her mind as a non-issue, had it not meant that she would subsequently have to reveal what she had been avoiding for the past few days.
"What are they about?"
Ellie pondered for a brief moment whether Rosa was actually psychic. She purposefully glossed over that it could have been due to the fact that there was one topic she had long refused to open up about.
The grip Ellie held on her arms tightened, her gaze fixated on her feet. Her lips pressed together. She hated the way the doctor always managed to pull everything out of her. From the first moment she decided to open up, it was like an endless stream of confessions that could not keep themselves secrets, as they belonged.
"My mom."
Scenes from the nightmare played over in her head, which contributed to her lack of sleep. When she slept, the nightmare haunted her. When she was awake, it clung to her. There was no escaping it. At least when she was awake, she could keep her mind preoccupied enough to trim down the sharp edges. But she had not slept in three days—at least not in a bed, and certainly not on purpose.
"Tell me what happens to your mom in your nightmares."
Ellie scrunched her forehead at an involuntary memory of the dream that jolted her awake in fear. Her fingers traveled to her forearm on their own accord.
"She's passed out on the floor. I try to wake her up but there's a needle in her arm and she's bleeding everywhere. She won't move and I'm yelling and screaming to wake her up but she's pale and I don't know what to do and she's not breathing and no one's coming to help and I keep screaming and screaming and..."
Echoed memories of her cries filled the air when she snapped back to see Doctor Rosa's concerned eyes staring directly at her. She glanced down to where Doctor Rosa's hand rested over hers.
She blinked in confusion and curled her fingers to reveal four new notches in the shape of crescent moons in her skin where her nails had been. The pattern matched several other recent marks. Coupled with the thin scars around her wrists, she regretted not wearing longer sleeves, despite the ninety-degree heat.
"I–I didn't know..."
"We'll work on it." Doctor Rosa kept her voice soft and pulled her hand back.
A new feeling seeped in, like it had been chipping away at the protective shield around her mind. A fire kindled in the pit of her stomach.
For years she dreamt about her mom bursting into the basement to whisk her away, but she never came. Now the image of her mother's death haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She knew the Eleanor Russo from her dreams was not really her mom. The woman who gave her daughter everything, even her own name—her nickname, anyway—would never hurt her.
Except Eleanor did hurt her. Maybe not in the same way He did, but it did not lessen the pain.
"She was nurse," Ellie said, her voice quaking. "She worked hard, she loved me, she never touched anything harder than a beer... she wouldn't do this."
"Do what, Ellie?"
"Abandon me." Guilt swooped in as soon as those unexpected words flew off her tongue. She stared at Rosa in confusion, but the psychiatrist kept a straight face. "Did I just say that?"
She loved her mom; couldn't wait to go home with her. So why did she all of a sudden feel so much hatred towards the person who was supposed to love her the most?
"Ellie," Rosa said softly, "I think it's time you accept that your mom isn't who you thought she was."
"No," Ellie said, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. Joe, Tessa, and Rosa always danced around the idea that her mom wasn't coming back, but Ellie knew better. Her memories from before the basement were scarce, but she knew the Eleanor from seven years ago would have never abandoned her.
Rosa spent the rest of their hour together trying to unpack Ellie's confession, but she reinforced her shield. At the end of their session, she could not slip out the door fast enough.
It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the blinding sun when she stepped outside, but her pace slowed when she remembered who waited in the car.
All she had to do was get through the car ride home and stay awake. As the hours ticked on, that would prove to become more and more difficult. She wondered how long she could survive before giving in.