I was standing on the shore waiting for my time to board the ferry to an island- that for the next three days would be known affectionately as Mars Island. I had been through the worst eight months of my life and had shocked myself that I managed to pull off this trip. First, because financially, I was a mess. Second, because I was now terrified everyday. And third, because some of the Echelon had been unkind to me, during some of my darkest times.
Eight months prior, I was happy. Not the happiest I've ever been, but I was doing well. I had always battled depression but it was at bay, even though I had had a falling out with my sisters. This falling out forced me to need to uproot my life and leave my beloved California for the east coast where majority of my family lived. Without my sisters as my roommates, I couldn't afford to stay in Cali, as much as it pained me to admit. Sure, I could have moved out and tried to find a roommate on Craigslist, but I was too cautious and I was barely making ends meet with the two roommates I had. It seemed easier at the time to move back "home" with my tail between my legs. Of course, I did it at the worst possible time. A huge hurricane was barreling through the Atlantic Ocean headed straight for us. I arrived the night before all hell broke loose.
Nevertheless, we managed to soldier on. The house flooded, we had to stay at a temporary shelter, but we made it through. Still, the depression wasn't rearing it's ugly head. I was desperately trying to find a job, because there wasn't much out there in a rural southern coastal town. I had a career, but I left it to pursue writing. I was hell bent on writing or nothing at all. Somehow that translated into me getting a job as a waitress. So much for the "nothing at all." I have no idea what I was thinking, to be honest. I guess I felt like it would give me free time to continue to write. It didn't.
I was lonely, my friends were all married with kids and I was stuck living with my parents. Not to mention the dating scene here was as abysmal as the job market. I started working at a local diner, I knew almost everyone who came in, the tips were okay. What wasn't okay was the questions I got.
"What are you doing back here?"
— "long story..."
"Weren't you working at a law office?"
— "no, I was a court stenographer."
"Where's your husband?"
— "dunno, but if you find him, can you point him in my direction?"
And my personal favorite was,
"Are you having a mid life crisis? You're much too young and pretty for that."
— "uhh, thanks?"
So instead of working on my novel, or even reading somebody else's, I poured myself into watching documentaries. My love of true crime led me to watching one about a wrongfully convicted murderer. I was appalled that the justice system had failed yet again. I saw it too often when I was working in the courtroom. But unlike when I was working, I actually could have a voice now. I started going on these different blogs looking for ways to help people who had been hurt by the legal system. By early November, I had met a guy who shared my passion. I wasn't actually helping anyone, so much as just talking about the different cases and once I met Andrew, I didn't go on the blogs anymore. I became enthralled with him. Talking to him anytime, I wasn't at the diner.
I truly thought that Andrew would be the guy I had been waiting for. The man of my dreams. But on December 26th, out of nowhere, he stopped taking my calls. At first, I was worried. Then worry turned to anger, and anger turned to depression. I never did find out what happened. But, I do know he is alive and well, because he accidentally texted me one morning in January. It was meant for his dad. He didn't text again.
This was the start of my year. It wasn't looking so good so far, for 2019. Worse came to worse when I had to work a double on the day after Valentines Day. Sylvie- the other waitress, myself, and Dan- the cook were discussing going out to a bar, but because I was so tired, I ultimately declined. I ended up regretting my decision when they left and I was still fumbling for my keys. Usually, we all left at the same time. It just wasn't my night. Three rowdy teenagers who had been kicked out of the diner earlier for being too obnoxious came out from the shadows, grabbing me and dragging me to the back of the diner. I fought hard, grabbing and pulling at whatever, I could. It was for naught. They punched and kicked me over and over, spit in my face, tore my uniform half off, and then left me there bleeding and unconscious.
My parents had expected me home and sat around worrying when I hadn't at least called to say I would be late. My dad decided after an hour to go looking for me. He pulled up to the diner, saw my car and yelled for me. I whimpered. He followed the pathetic sounds to the back loading area where he found me. The police investigated, but I couldn't remember anything about my attackers. The diner didn't have any surveillance footage and all anyone remembered was they looked like typical kids. They left no DNA evidence behind. I had become a true crime victim.
A month prior, I had thrown caution to the wind and purchased this ticket to the island. I was reeling from the "break up," if you could even call it that and decided, I could make it work financially, as I had a retirement plan I could cash out. Now, after the attack, I was to be out of work for an indefinite amount of time. I had some nerve damage and a punctured lung from a broken rib. I didn't know how I was going to pay any of the hospital bills as I didn't have any insurance. I decided to reach out to the people, I believed were more my family than my actual blood. The Echelon. My brothers and sisters in Mars.
I went onto Vyrt, as some of us still chatted on there and I nervously typed the following: hey guys, haven't been on in a few weeks. Have been missing you all. Several people responded with hellos and where have ya beens. Then, I admitted to them what had happened: well, it's been tough. I was attacked. Left for dead, ya know... the usual. My sense of humor was my downfall here. Many people thought I was joking, but I eventually admitted it was all true and said I was sorry for making it seem so lighthearted. I told everyone how rough things were and that I had sadly cancelled my trip to Croatia. I was lucky, because Adventures in Wonderland refunded me due to my circumstances. Then out of the blue, someone I loved and respected, Natalie, typed: she's so full of shit guys, she just wants sympathy because she's living such a pathetic life. I was stunned. Never once, had I ever went into Vyrt looking for a pity party, and never had I ever been mean or rude towards her. She continued: I bet she never even booked mars island. AiW doesn't do refunds ever! I don't know, guys. She wasn't done, but at this point no one had come to my defense, so she rattled on: I bet she's trying to get Jared's attention. Maybe she thinks he will allow her to come to the island as his guest. I was mortified. I quickly logged out and laid sobbing on the hospital bed. I had no one to turn to after all.
The next day, I had many messages from various Echelon. Some were kind, others were nasty. I decided to just leave the Mars "fandom" behind and try to pick up the mess that was my life. That was until, I noticed an email notification from Shayla. I at first thought it was a form letter email, since AiW had sent out several when they first were promoting the island. But curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on it.
Shayla McGhee
To: Catherine Tyrell
Hi Catherine!
I wanted to let you know that someone decided to pay the remainder of the balance for your Mars Island package. Is it okay for us to process their payment? We haven't issued your refund of the first payment yet, is this also okay? We understand if the circumstances surrounding your reason to cancel will keep you from attending, but maybe you can still join us? Let me know!
Best
Shay
I read and reread the email about a dozen times. Surprised would be an understatement. I couldn't fathom who would have done this for me. As far as I could tell the entirety of the Mars fan base hated me. I pressed the call button and waited for my nurse to saunter in.
"Well look who has a huge smile on her face! What do you need, honey?" She asked.
"Can you ask the doctor to come see me. I need to ask him a question about my recovery process." I wanted to know if it was even remotely feasible for me to travel halfway across the globe in a matter of six months time.
"Sure, dear. I'll see if I can find him doing his rounds. Need anything else?" I shook my head and she left the room.
A few long hours later, I had my answer. If I followed all instructions, I'd be out of the hospital in a couple of weeks and I shouldn't take too long to recover physically. I was warned that I had to follow all the rules or I may not recover in time. I believed in myself and sent a reply back saying, I would be making it to the island without hesitation. I was on cloud nine. If only I knew then what I know now. My recovery wasn't just going to be physical.
That night the nightmares started. The panic attacks started the next day. The need to not be left alone started a week later. I was an emotional wreck. I don't even know what triggered it. My therapist says, "The human brain is a tricky one. Sometimes it takes time for trauma to sink in." I was diagnosed with severe PTSD, depression, anxiety, etc. The depression I was used to, the constantly being afraid, I wasn't.
I wanted to be normal again, but no matter what I did, I was always in a state of alert. I began checking the locks on the doors many times before I was satisfied they were truly locked. I would jump at the slightest sound. I'd burst into tears randomly. I couldn't watch TV because everything had violence. Even cartoons were getting bad. I was miserable, only leaving the house for doctor appointments. I was a shell of my former self.
The time for the island got closer and closer, but I was in no position to travel. I was almost completely agoraphobic. One day, my mother who didn't necessarily want me to travel alone came in to my room, where I was still sleeping at noon. "Okay, enough is enough! Get up! I know you're sad, I know you're scared, but you aren't doing anything the therapist has suggested you do. You need to fight this head on. No! Stop pulling the blankets over your head! Wake up!" I grumbled and sat up, yelling. "Can you NOT, Mother! I don't need your bullshit, right now." As soon as I said the words, I felt sick. I was never one to treat my parents with disrespect. I hated who I had become. Fortunately, my mother took it in stride. "Catherine Leeann Tyrell, I'm only going to say this once, you ever talk to me like that again and there will most certainly be hell to pay. This is your one get out of jail free card. I'm going to let it slide because I know you are terrified. But you can't live like this anymore. Bad things happen all the time. They happen to everyone. You are not the first person to have this happen to. As special as you are, you're NOT that special, that you'd be the one and only person to be attacked. Now, some nice person did you a favor and paid for you to have a wonderful experience. Are you going to let their money go down the drain because you can't be bothered to at least try to live again?"
My mother's monologue shook me to the core. She was right. I needed to confront this head on. She then dropped a letter on the bed and walked out. There was no name or any sender information. My mother had already opened it, no doubt to protect me in case it were something bad. I sat there staring at the contents. Laying in my lap was a cashiers check in the amount of $3,000 and a note. It simply said: "for your travel arrangements to Croatia."