E M M A POV:
One thing about getting help is you expect everyone to feel sorry for you. And also, your family is too kind and supportive. But in the end, we're still haunted by what brought us here to begin with. And all you see is white walls, white chairs, white tables, and white doors. The showers being monitored with you in it every second. Your watched as you take your pills in the morning and then night. But you spend more time watching the news than you've ever had in your life.
I have been locked up in the facility for three months. But it somehow feels longer. And I think get admitted wasn't a poor choice after all. I feel like I'm getting the help. But they still want me to admit that I tried to kill myself. But right now, it actually doesn't matter to me because either way my wrist was going to get slit. I sometimes sleep better when I'm thinking of the possibility of leaving here. And even better when I think of my dad. I dream of him still. I see him when I go to sleep every night. I dream of him, and I see him as if he's nursing me when I'm badly sick. And I sometimes can't stop thinking of my dad. But whenever I close my eyes, I see him. And I cry. How am I supposed to live with that? And I have to get to my head and realize I've been suicidal a lot longer than I thought. It started out when I went to New York to Christopher last year.
I remember it so well. I was always looking for an excuse to be reckless. My mom was right about me. Noah made me feel weak that I believed everything he ever told me that I actually started to become willing to die and I'm careless with my life. Even when my dad died, I had a reason to want to kill myself. It was all there. I just refused to see it.
The place is more comforting than I had expected. Nurses are checking on me constantly. I get my virals. I get blood drawn from me at four in the morning. I eat a healthy breakfast. And I take my meds. And I see the doctor every day in the week. And lately, I been journaling. I don't pay attention to the other patients. Their all just as fucked up as I am, I guess. But they didn't go through the hell I've been through. I lost my dad to a gun. Someone took my dad's life. And I lost my boyfriend. His amnesia destroyed us. And now I'm on my own. I have my mom and my friends. Victoria calls me everyday to check on me. And mom visits me as often as she can. Gavin does too, and we actually can have a normal conversation without me asking lame questions. But he's actually okay.
I have to live with the idea and thought that my dad is dead and I'm suicidal. But am I? Doctor Edmunds seems to think that I am. And she wants me to admit that I'm feeling this way because I've been in terrible situations in my past. And none of it is true. At least not in the way I see it.
I been painting these past few months. And I've been liking to put anything down of how I'm feeling. It's not perfect. But it's something. I stay over in the corner, and I begin to write things down that just come to my mind.
My dad once told me that if you paint rainbows, then you can paint your whole life of what's in it or what's to come next. I will say that for these three months, I've had the time to think of everything that had once happened. Christopher proposing to me, the car accident, Christopher in a coma, Christopher's amnesia, my dad's death, and how I've been alone since my dad's funeral. I gave an eulogy for my dad's funeral. And I know he would've loved it. But I wish he would stop visiting me in my dreams. He keeps me sane, alive, and to not wish that I would be dead.
I guess you can say that I've had to say a few things in a few different languages to get myself ready. I can speak French, Spanish, Italian and German. I can say the same thing again.
"J'ai eu ça." I said to myself as I looked at myself in the mirror. (Meaning: I got this.)
I said it in French.
I start to comb my hair as the morning starts out, while I had coffee on my mind the whole time.
"Tengo esto." I say to myself in Spanish as I comb every strand of my hair.
And I keep myself busy with the combing. And I remind myself again.
"Ho capito." I say in Italian, still repeating it to myself.
And I look at my reflection and I see the girl who is damaged. And I saw how damaged I was for sure until now.
"Ich schaff das." I say to myself again.
My roommate Doris looks over at me, putting on her socks and she stares directly over at me. And I looked at her to see how confused the brunette haired girl with braids as she was highly confused.
"How do you know so many languages?" Doris had asked me, her pale complexion was too recognizable.
"Well my mom's first language is French since her parents were from France. So growing up she spoke it. And she's a French teacher. And I learned it growing up. But I'm just fluent. But the other languages I took up in school." I explained to her, as I took a quick glimpse at myself in the mirror.
Doris got up right on her feet.
"Well, I hope it's pancakes today." She had gotten up, and walked right out of the room.
I was by myself as soon as she left. And I sighed to myself and I told myself in English now.
"I got this." I smiled, trying to fake a smile that I'm sure everyone will notice how fake it is.
I had put my hair into a ponytail and I had left out of my room, closing the door behind me. I made my way past the nurses station and to the Day Room. The tv was on, and I saw us having breakfast being given. I actually wasn't even hungry. My plate was pancakes and bacon and a coffee. And I didn't feel hungry at all. I felt tired, lonely and depressed. I'm sure I've been used to it by now. I have felt like grabbing a bunch of things and stacking my lap with magazines and books.
I had barely touched my food, so instead I gave it to a patient who actually wanted it. And then of course, I had gone to the medicine door to take my medication. One was for depression and anxiety and another was for my health issues. And of course, I would usually see Doctor Edmunds in the morning. But today she was running late. I was staying in the Day Room. And I started to read an old magazine until it was enough and then I had started writing in my journal of mine.
Sitting next to me was Sally. Doris was across from us on the other sofa. And Sally was a redhead. And Sally had this rude behavior. And instantly, I just look at Sally who actually wishes to bother me.
"So, it's funny how your patient for what... suicidal?" Sally turned, looking at me, and I had felt judged.
"I'm not suicidal." I shook my head, denying.
"Oh really?" She raised a brow.
Sally grabbed my arm that showed my cut on my wrist, and she threw my sleeve up and the evidence of what I did was right there. I yelped, and she looked at my scar, laughing at me.
"Like I said, your suicidal!" Sally yelled, demanding at me. "And oddly enough, you look like a loner anyways."
I had closed my journal and I started to get up and walk away. But instead, Sally had grabbed me by the ponytail and she looked right at me like she had something else to say at me. Sally started to chew her bubblegum and she smacked it loudly and I saw her blow a big bubble out of her mouth and then smacking it into her mouth, chewing.
"So princess," Sally began to say. "You said in group sessions that your dad was what again? He did breast implants, right?"
Oh now I know where she's being this.
"Sally, leave her alone." Doris said, clearly trying to stick up for me.
"No, I mean I heard your dad slept with a hundred different women. So he must've been a breast implant doctor, right?" Sally started to verbally bully me without even caring at all. And I guess I liked the idea that she could hurt me, because it made me feel strong when she would bully me in the worst ways. And it didn't say much.
"Sally please shut up!" Doris snapped, annoyed more than anything about it.
"No, I'm just stating out the facts." Sally said.
"Well their not facts. Because there's one part of my dad you don't know about." I stated, and then tears somehow could start to bawl out. "My dad saved lives. He saved many lives. He touched many lives. And he was a good person. He was here... until the day he died. My dad has been gone, so no, you can't state any facts you know nothing about."
~•~
I sat in Doctor Edmunds office, and I guess she suspected me to want to talk about the reasons why I'm here. I suspected her to talk about the reasons why I can't concentrate about anything. She thinks I'm suicidal just like mom thinks. But I'm aware that I'm not well. And I'm semi suicidal. And here I was hearing the loud ticking of the clock that drove me crazy. And I was thinking about what to say and what not to say. How was I to sit here and pretend that everything is fine? Because nothing is fine.
I kept thinking of how I'm going to survive this. She sat there at her desk, and she had her papers in front of her. And yes, I've been super cooperative with taking my medication and actually just going to group therapy and trying not to get into any arguments with other patients. Actually, I'm doing well. And I'm pretty sure that's what Dr. Edmunds will think or say. But regardless, she's going to point the suicidal card.
"So Emma," she began, a smile just appeared on her face by being polite as she always is. And she actually doesn't judge. "How have you been? How has your sleep been?"
"I sleep when I get the chance, let's say." I admitted, practically trying not to think of my dreams I have of my dad.
"I guess insomnia is very common in stages like yours. For people who deal with depression or grief. I mean, technically you are still grieving." Dr. Edmunds then placed her glasses on her face, and of course, even she knows grief can carry for a long time for oneself.
"I guess, I still am. But the worst part is everyone thinks they can diagnose you. Like my mom and stepdad. It actually sucks to be honest." I said, trying my best to not act like I was in a guilt or ashamed feeling that grew deep in my heart and mind.
"I think your here more than just grief. You admitted you've had suicidal thoughts. You sat in this very room three months ago when you first came here and said, 'Doctor Edmunds, I'm suicidal.' Do you remember that conversation we had?" She said, reminding me of the worst.
Yes, but I never meant it.
"Yes, I remember that. But I remember breaking your laptop more." I reminded her.
When I first arrived here, I tried breaking the glass on the door's window so I could slit my wrist again. That time it was my control. And not some psycho on the phone. And I tried cutting myself until many nurses came and the security guards literally had dragged me down the hallway as I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Before that happened, I told Dr. Edmunds that me being in the facility was a mistake. But she said I was wrong and I needed medication. So I had thrown her laptop across the room and then I broke the window to the door and I tried taking one of the shards to cut my wrist. And then I was screaming and being dragged down the hallway and into my room where I was strapped down to the bed, and they injected me with so much medicine that I slept two days straight. They gave me four doses.
"Your not the first who has attempted that in this very room." She tried to make me not feel so bad about it, when I actually still felt bad.
"But I am sorry about my behavior." I nodded to her, and she had this small smile on her face.
"You are a patient here. Going through a lot of things... I don't expect an apology. My job is to help you get better. That's why your here. And since then, you have made good progress. And you are actually quite good with your schedules, no fighting lately, and you attend every group. Except you haven't had an appetite. What's going on with that?" She placed her papers aside, and I knew that was all in the report from the nurses.
"I'm not sure. I don't exactly have the room for it." I looked down, staring at my feet seeing my orange socks on.
"Emma, you are dealing with a lot. And I want to touch base on perhaps Noah. I know you went through a lot with him. And I think that part of you is being torn inside and eaten up when it comes to what happened with Noah. You told me he tried killing you in a fire he started. But you keep leaving out details. I think we should talk about that today." Dr. Edmunds said, and all I felt was grief all over again, and I knew I had to think of the most important thing was that Noah never made me a happy person.
"I refuse to talk about him. It's very irrelevant of why I'm here." I demanded, not ready to speak or think of this subject.
"Emma, what happened to you... you went through a lot. You spent months hating him. And you still do. Maybe you liked Noah at a time because he reminded you of your father in a way." She said to me.
I stood up to my feet, slamming both of my palms on her desk and I leaned forward, knowing she was way out of line.
"Is that what my chart says? Because that is bullshit. You don't know anything about me and Noah. I refuse to ever bring him up in a conversation. He was a regret. A lot of bad things happened to me because of him. So please... stop." I tried keeping my voice calm as ever, and Dr. Edmunds still wasn't convinced. "When are you going to act like I'm a cured patient and no longer suicidal?"
"When you start acting like someone who wants to be alive." She replied.
Oh trust me, I want to be alive.
"Give me my chart!" I snapped at her, expecting her to give it to me for once.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not suicidal and if it says that then it's wrong." I said.
She tapped her pen down and sighed.
"Emma, your careless with your life. You may not be slitting your wrists anymore but your still careless. It's probably because Noah told you you were a waste of space on this planet. The problem is you believed him. And if you don't watch out one of these days your gonna die because of it." Dr. Edmunds told me.
I couldn't actually believe I was still hearing Noah's name come out of her mouth.
"Your wrong. I'm sorry but that just isn't true." I shook my head, about ready to walk out and cry. "May I please leave?"
"Emma, we're not finished yet. Please sit back down and let's finish our conversation." Dr. Edmunds really wants to destroy me.
I sat back down, going against my better judgment.
"Look, Noah was nothing like my dad." I started to feel my tears suddenly break down and cry.
"I know this is very hard for you to understand but-"
"-no it's not hard. It's impossible." I cut her off, snapping back at her like she was my worst enemy.
"Running from this... will not help you." Dr. Edmunds bluntly said this like I was some sort of criminal in an interrogation room or under some sort of evaluation program that I was gonna fail.
"Bringing up Noah, I rather run from." I spat, getting up heading for the door.
"What about your dad?" She brought up, and I froze paralyzed in my tracks, unable to move now and for a minute I sighed and I turned around to look back at her. "I don't think you're dad would you to run from this. Bring your dark demons to light. Get it off your chest. And talking about what Noah did to you isn't wrong. It may be painful. But at least your not bottling it up. And you'll be free from Noah."
I knew she would expect me to pull the dead dad card. But sometimes you can't always pull that with everything you do. It's bad enough I'm still having a hard time at accepting that my dad is dead. Or that I'm not ever going to see him ever again. It's the worst feeling in the world. And all I want to do is cry, and all I want to do is never wake up. I have to sometimes force myself out of bed even when I really don't want to.
And all I can do is pray for myself because I actually can't do much for myself. I take my medications. And maybe that helps me just enough. But still, I think about my dad. But here, they think Noah started my suicidal tendencies. But that is just so inaccurate. Noah was the worst person I had ever known. Noah put me through so much trauma and misery. That yes, he made me feel so small. He made me hate myself. He abused me, physically and emotionally. Sometimes I close my eyes and I see myself falling into the glass table. Or the feeling of his hand around my neck, choking me and still I can't breathe.
I have so much fear now. Now that Christopher is out of my life, and my dad dead. What do I really have now? And I know now that I can't get through to anyone even if I wanted to break myself, I actually couldn't.
"So, what. Talking about Noah won't change the damage that he already did to me." I walked back over to the desk to her, and she stared at me, and she was not giving into this.
"And it's not going to." She responded. "But, if you don't talk about this... I can't discharge you. Until then...you are to remain here." She said, closing the folder.
"It doesn't matter, because there is absolutely nothing to talk about when it comes to Noah. So whatever you want to hear, you won't hear it. I've been here for three months. I'm sure I can handle staying here longer." I had walked heading for the door, but then I stopped, and I had turned around to face her. "You know what the funny thing is... your going to hear a dreadful story when it comes to Noah."
"Well I'm all ears." She said.
I knew talking about Noah would always make me feel so much more smaller. And I couldn't believe I would need to take the ultimatum. But is it worth it? I don't mind sitting down for a few hours talking about Noah. I actually knew about Noah deeply. And he still haunted me. And now I return back over to her slowly walking back just as I clear my throat.
"Okay." I began, not letting myself stay far from being restless. "You want me to talk and discuss my inner psyche about Noah..."
It was my hurting my gut to mention it or his name but I was okay.
"The truth is... he was a nightmare. And maybe yes, I craved dying when I was with him." I said.
I had sat down in the chair that was right in front of her desk. And I heard the loud loud ticking of the clock over and over and over again. And then I had looked in direct at Edmunds, hoping it wouldn't be too crazy.
"I was destroyed by him. It had made me see what being human is. And immediately, I was wrong about what I thought about him." I was trying my best not to bawl tears out.
"How did you meet him? Do you remember?"
Edmunds asked me, and I returned to the moment I had met him.
I started thinking of the past. A flash hit into my head and I was back working at The Bean. And right away, I remembered Noah walking in with his friends and how he bumped into me and the coffee I was caring had fell with a plate spilling on me. And Noah was polite enough to try to help me. I remember being so annoyed and upset with him. He was kind enough, to try to help. But I had snapped at him.
"Of course, I remember." I told her, not wanting her to think I was dumb enough not to remember. "I was working at this café place called The Bean. It was about two years ago. And I was trying to bring an order out. It was coffees. And Noah came in, bumping into me and the coffee cups fell onto the floor and the coffee spilled on me. I was angry at him. But the whole time, he kept staring at me like I was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. I pretended I wasn't into him. But I think I was lying to myself when he asked me out. Maybe once we started dating... maybe I thought I loved him. But I truly was a liar."
Edmunds had looked interested in what else I had to say.
"Okay. I'd like to know everything. Tell me." Edmunds said.
I had nodded.
"We were this perfect match in the beginning. Noah was mysterious and charming. But I didn't know him. I might have said that I loved him, but I only dated him to cut another out of my life. Noah was perfect at first. But after I started dating him, I noticed the red flags after a few weeks. But it started to get worse, he became needy, and obsessive with where I was and who I was talking to every damn second of the day. He hated that I had guy friends. And he was clingy and jealous all the time. And things only got worse when he started to hit me like I felt no pain and like it was so easy for him to enjoy and love to hurt me. And I hid it from everyone in my life. Sometimes, Noah would take his anger out on me when he was angry at someone else, or if he was upset, or just angry because he had a bad day at work, or when he was drunk. And I still told him I loved him even after every beating he put upon me. I didn't own my body. And then, his brother drugged me and raped me... I expected Noah to turn him in for me. But instead, he asked me not to tell anyone and that he was going to fix it. But he never did. And things only got worse." I explained to her.
I wanted to explain every part that still was in my head. Everything that had just came to my mind. And all I thought about was crying which would be hard to get through. Edmunds passed me the tissue box and I pulled out a tissue, wiping my eyes.
"He beat me when I drove my drunk stepbrother home. I returned home and he kicked me, threw me into the wall, choked me. And I still have nightmares about it. And at Thanksgiving at my mom's he was so jealous of my friendship with Matt. He used sex as a way to say he owned me. I dumped him and when I was broken up with him I actually felt good. I felt like I was free. But even so, he still had me. And I was trapped. We obviously got back together, and he still started to abuse me. But I was realizing then I was never in love with Noah. I was in love with Christopher. I always had been." I said.
"And you still stayed with Noah while having feelings for someone else?" She asked, and she was being more of a friend than a doctor.
"I tried to fight it. But, when Noah was cheating on me, I fled to New York with Christopher. And I actually don't know what I was expecting. But I felt like the person I always was. With Christopher, I was myself. But with Noah, I was someone else." I said.
I knew right from the start I actually remembered hating myself for leaving Noah. But I do remember I was happy for once because I was with Christopher in New York. And I was in the arms of the one person who always understood me. Noah never did any of that.
"And then you chose Christopher, didn't you?" She had her pen out.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"And so you picked him. And then what happened?" She asked me.
"Noah was angry. And he went to Christopher's apartment and he set it on fire. And once it was on fire, I ran to it, seeing it in flames. And I was reckless. I ran in there, and I saved Christopher from getting shot by Noah. I stepped in front of him and I took the bullet for myself. And I actually did it for Christopher." I said, and I still can see the flames in my own head. "So no, I didn't go into that fire last year because I was suicidal. I went into that fire for the boy I loved."
I took another tissue and I allowed my eyes to bawl out, but I wiped my eyes. And then, Edmunds had looked right at me, and she had then taken off her glasses. And I felt like my story to tell her was too much. She brought up a file and looked through it.
"You know I did visit Noah." I spoke up.
"Oh so I see." She relaxed back into her chair.
"Recently. Before I was admitted. I had visited him in the institution. And when I saw him, I felt relieved to see him in the state he was in. He can't speak, he's not lucid. And for the first time, I felt free because he caused me so much pain when I dated him. And for once, I was able to feel free. And I'm able to move on from him." I said, and I had on this smile that eventually disappeared and tears fell from my eyes and I took a tissue wiping my eyes.
"Well, it sounds like you've been through a lot, Emma." She nodded, looking into a folder.
"It's what my mom says too. She says I haven't been myself since my dad died." I replied, and I had my mind everywhere as I was trying to mainly focus on one thing.
"I can see how hard everything is for you. You had a toxic relationship, your boyfriend losing his memory and then your dad dying. You have been through a lot trying to just be yourself and to just be human." She said.
"I know now that my dad would want me to live. And I'm going to live. Once I'm discharged, I'm going to do all the things he would want me to do in life. Because I'm not giving up." I told her.
The phone on her desk then had started to ring. And then of course, right after she had answered, and she had ended our session and then I had escorted myself out of her room and once I was back in the Day Room, I had sat on the sofa, just watching an old movie.
West Side Story was on. And I put on this smile, because the movie reminded me of my dad. It was one of his favorite movies. And just as I was sitting there, Paula had called for me.
"It's someone for you." She said, holding the telephone out for me.
"Yeah, who?" I asked her, refusing to get up.
"It's someone named Christopher." She responded with, still holding the telephone out for me to take.
I couldn't get better if I talk to him. It's bad enough I think about him. It's really not a good idea that I talk to him. Does he not understand that? Or perhaps respect me.
"Yeah, tell him that I don't wish to speak to him. Not now or ever. Okay? I'm sure he'll understand." I said coldly, crossing my arms, returning to my focus of the movie.
I had then heard Paula speak into the phone.
"Sorry, she told me to tell you that she doesn't wish to speak to you. Not now or ever." Paula said on the phone to him. "Yeah, she's just going through a lot. I hope you understand. Yes, I will. I'll tell her. Okay. Bye."
She had hung the telephone up. And then, she came walking right over to me.
"Christopher has a message." She told me.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, what?"
I thought it was to be bullshit. Because there's nothing he has to say to me. Because I actually don't care about Christopher anymore. I think being in this facility it's made me realize that Christopher is bad for me to cling onto when he's a whole new person.
"He wanted me to tell you... he's sorry and that he misses you. And he wants to see you when you get discharged because he really misses you." Paula told me.
Wow that message didn't make me feel better. I mean, he's a new person. He's with Lindsey. I saw her in one of his jerseys that night. Maybe they were just hooking up. But it seemed more to me. And that's why I can only associate with him when it comes to Hallie. Other than that, I don't care anymore about him being in my life no matter how much I love him still.
So I guess I have to move on...
A/N:
Hey Miners,
I'm sorry this chapter isn't that long.
The next chapter I'm gonna make longer.
So give me a few days tops to write it.
And right now I'm grieving because
my grandfather just passed away.
So you may not hear from me for a bit.
I need some time.
But I'm not going anywhere.
I just need a few days. That's all
I'm asking.
I guess being homeless wasn't
enough to kill me but losing
someone to cancer did.
Anyways, love you guys.
I hope y'all liked the chapter.
Tell me what you think.
Please vote.
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#loveyourself
#staybeautiful
#treatpeoplewithkindness
#alwaysandforever
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