I'm back :)
I'm done with my thesis and we won't be doing any revisions so I have so much free time right now 🤩 I already have three chapters ready to be updated and will be posting a chapter every day. We only have a few more to go, so let's get started!!
Enjoy!
*****
May 03, 2028 - France
Today was probably the most difficult session I've had. I've been to three before this and all of them were spent with Estelle and I trying to break the surface. I've talked about that night in Monza and a few moments from Charles' accident, but no words were said about my family.
I'm not ready for that yet.
I'd tell Estelle what happened and then she'd tried to ask questions that would lead to more details like has the event changed anything in my day-to-day routine or what are the triggers that I can pinpoint. My day-to-day things weren't exactly affected, but I told her I stopped wearing mini skirts.
Usually when Charles and I would go out to celebrate with the drivers, I'd wear a skirt and pair it with a nice top. Ever since Monza happened, the only other time I've worn anything that short was during the New Year's Eve party at Max's house and that's just because I knew the place inside out and I was surrounded by people I felt safe with. If it were a place completely unknown to me or a club that was so crowded that anyone can come in, I'd be wearing pants and a top that was appropriate for the night but still doesn't show much skin.
I hated the fact that I'm the one adjusting. I know that people experience sexual assault despite what they wear or where they are, but I can't help the fear inside me that's telling me there's a possibility it might happen again if I wear this or that. No one has asked me what I was wearing the night, and I don't even know how I'll react if someone did.
I haven't been back to Monza either.
After we got married,
Today, Estelle asked me what happened after.
"I went to the hospital." I told her and Estelle shook her head.
"Not that." She disagreed, linking her hands together as she looked at me seriously. "I meant right after. I'm not talking about going back to the hotel or heading to the hospital for the exam. What happened after?"
I was the only one who knew.
We spent the next fifteen minutes after that in silence as Estelle patiently waited for me to gather my thoughts.
How was I supposed to tell her that I felt disgusted with myself? How was I supposed to tell her that those few minutes I spent by myself after Manuele left were filled with moments of shock and numbness? How was I supposed to tell her that I didn't recognize myself? That my body didn't feel like it was mine?
"Do you know that movie that had Chloë Moretz in it?" I asked and I watched as Estelle's face grew confused. "The one where she has an accident and her body's in a coma, but her soul was seeing everything? That's how it felt. I knew what was happening to me. I was aware of every single moment and detail, but I was just there. I felt like a stranger in my own body— helpless and unmoving."
I was currently in the car with Charles as we drove away from the clinic. After I walked out of Estelle's room, he was waiting for me in the same chair. He missed the last one because of the Baku race weekend and he felt bad that I had to drive all the way to Nice by myself despite my reassurance that I was alright.
I only cleared my throat to tell him that we could leave, not uttering another word as we got into his car. I kept seeing myself as a separate part of my body after the conversation I had with Estelle. I disassociated so much that I was certain that mentally, I was nowhere near where my body was. I was stuck in a place where only I could pull myself out of the rabbit hole but I had no idea how.
"This session was different, wasn't it?" He asked and I momentarily glanced at him before nodding my head. When he didn't reply, I realized he must not have seen me because his eyes were on the road.
"Yes, it was." I was caught off guard when Charles suddenly made a u-turn, causing a few cars behind us to honk at the abrupt action. "Where are we going?"
"You're not okay." He said, ignoring my question as he glanced at his rearview mirror. "And I don't think going back home will make things better, so we're making a stop." The roads grew familiar the nearer we reached our destination. When the familiar image of our cottage came into view, I glanced curiously at Charles as he parked the car and opened the glovebox, pulling out a set of keys. "Max helped me make a copy of yours." He said before getting out. I followed behind him, closing the door as we both got inside. "I didn't really plan this so if you'd like, we can just order some food and coffee."
Charles continued to speak as he scrolled through his phone, not noticing that I haven't moved from my place by the door.
I leaned my back against it, placing my palms flat against the wood to keep them from curling into fists. My fingertips were probably white from how much I was pushing it, but it was the only way I thought I wouldn't hurt myself, the memory of crescent shaped marks on my palms whenever I tried to stop them from shaking. I tried focusing on specific objects— the clock mounted to the wall, the stack of books about travelling Asia that were sat on the coffee table, the faded marks on one of the wooden pillars in the living room that we chose not to paint over.
I thought focusing on something would help me breathe better, but it was no use. How am I supposed to relinquish control when every time I do so, something awful happens?
Losing my control with Charles was probably the only time things went my way.
I was looking down on my shoes, lips formed into an 'o' to help me when I saw Charles' familiar black converse in front of me. I looked up to meet his worried eyes, lips pursed as he figured out what to say, but I beat him to it.
"I need you to do something for me." I breathed out, shuffling from one foot to another as I continued to grow restless.
"Whatever you need, it's yours. Just tell me what it is." Charles replied without an ounce of hesitation, stepping forward and cupping my cheeks with his hands. The warm contact felt like a bright fire on Christmas day, filled with comfort and safety.
"Please help me." I said, my voice cracking at the end. "Hold me or whatever. I don't care. Just help me."
Charles didn't need to hear me twice before he was grabbing my hand and intertwining it with his. He pulled me towards the direction of the bedroom, only letting go of my hand to fix the cushions so that we had some space. He sat down, back placed against the headboard, before pulling me. My back met his chest as Charles wrapped his arms around me, my hands gripping his tightly.
He was surrounding me, almost every inch of exposed skin I had was touching his and it felt like a touch of reality was slowly pulling me back. The process was slow as every breath I let out was shaky and I knew he could feel it. Every time I squeezed his hands, he'd lean the side of his head against mine. Minute by minute, we were getting there.
Until I heard it.
I could hear French words. For a second, I thought Charles must've pulled out his phone and began playing a French song.
But he never let go of me.
My eyes were closed as I continued to lean against him, feeling his breath by the side of my neck. The sound was low, almost a whisper, and when I inched my head closer to his, I realized it was him.
The French words were coming from Charles.
I wasn't familiar with the song. With some parts, he was merely whispering it. But with the others, his tone would change and I'd feel his chest rise as he took in a breath before opening his mouth.
I don't know how long we stayed there, one of Charles' hands moving to fix my hair. I forgot how nice it was to have him with me whenever these things happen. After that night in the bathroom, I fell asleep in his arms and didn't get to relish the aftermath.
Charles was always more caring whenever I went through a panic attack or a nightmare. He wouldn't get me a glass of water or offer to buy food. He'd just hold me, and I found that having him with me was exactly what I needed.
I turned around in his arms and gave him a small smile, placing my hands by his shoulders. When I opened my mouth to speak, he shook his head at me.
"If the words coming out of your mouth are I'm sorry, then I suggest you stop." He said and I raised an eyebrow at him, my eyes surely filled with amusement.
"They're not."
"Oh."
A small laugh escaped my lips as he gave me an awkward smile. "I was going to say thank you."
Charles shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down my arms. "You don't have to. For better and for worse, remember?"
"Do you?" I joked, not sure if it was too early to joke about his memory loss, but I couldn't help it. The words just spilled out of my mouth.
Luckily, Charles found it funny as he grinned at me and shook his head. "I don't, but I do know how wedding vows go. Did we say our own vows?"
"We only had the traditional ones, but you did give a very heartfelt speech during the reception. I think Max took a video of you because he said Charles looked sappy as shit and there's no way I'm not using that video as blackmail."
"For fuck's sake." Charles rolled his eyes and I laughed, immediately feeling better. "Are you going to tell me what happened at the session?" It took me a minute before I spoke up and explained everything to him. Charles listened the entire time, not minding when I needed to take a beat to calm myself.
We both decided that neither of us were in the mood to eat, so taking a nap was the next best option. The two of us were lying on our sides and facing one another. At first, I had placed my hands just in front of me and a few inches from Charles'. He noticed the placement and held my right hand before placing his other by my hip and pulling me closer.
I was abruptly woken up when the bed shifted and I opened my eyes to see Charles sitting up. "What time is it?" I asked groggily, but he didn't answer me. I sat up as well and only then did I notice what was happening.
Charles was fighting to breathe in some air. His eyes were wide with fear as he clutched the fabric covering his chest.
Oh my god. He's having a panic attack.
Moving quickly, I cupped his face and turned him to face me. Green frantic eyes met mine as he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. "Charles, breathe." I said, grasping his other hand with mine as we both held it to his chest. He opened his mouth to speak again but I shook my head. "You need to calm down first." Nothing was happening and I could feel the panic filling me as he continued to breathed harshly. I crawled into his lap and connected my forehead with his. "The date today is May third. We are in our cottage in Nice. Your name is Charles Leclerc and I'm Nadia Kaplan. You can speak Italian, French, and English. Your favorite spot in Monaco is a viewing deck that has an exceptional view of the principality. You have a sweet tooth and it's miraculous you're not diagnosed with early onset diabetes. You drink coffee every morning now because of me. You are okay. You are safe."
As I continued to talk, I noticed him beginning to calm down and I prevented myself from halting and giving him a tight hug. From what I knew, Charles has never experienced a panic attack and the first time is always scary. You don't know what's happening because every attack is different for each person. The way to stop it is also different.
I pulled away slightly and Charles leaned his head against my chest, arms wrapping around me to crush my body against his. "Fuck. How'd you know that would work?"
"I didn't." I said, running my hands through his hair and placing a kiss on the top of his head. "What was it?"
"The car crash."
I stiffened in his arms, feeling like my body had been covered in ice as the realization dawned on me. Charles must've felt it because he pulled away and looked me in the eye. "You remember?" I whispered, feeling my heart pound harder when he nodded his head.
"I remember the accident." He began and it felt like I wasn't blinking as I waited for him to continue. "I remember a few things as well."
*****
Ooooooooooooo
✧Reese✧