I know, I know, I'm a horrible author and person for making you guys wait this long for an update. So much pure craziness is going on with moving in the middle of a pandemic. Or, moving period. I'm so sorry and if you feel like cussing at me, I completely understand. I hope you guys aren't too mad at me, but here's a chapter to soften you up.
Ariel's POV:
Stepping back into the house wasn't as strange as I thought it would be. It was just like every other day. Except there were reporters with flashing cameras on our lawn, shouting question after question into my ear.
Lila got them to back off, her glare scaring several of them into running away. I kinda wanted to hug Lila, but it seemed a bit inappropriate for the situation.
"Ariel, are you okay?" Jaydon asked, his hand on my arm. I blinked out of my thoughts and nodded with a tiny smile. We were all huddled into the main living room, everyone closing windows and shutting the curtains.
"Yeah. I was just thinking." I said, glancing towards the closed dining room door. I may have been able to enter the house without any problems, but entering the dining room would be a different story entirely. I wasn't sure if my sanity could handle facing everything that I'd said and done.
Everyone's idle chatter went quiet at my words. Apparently, me thinking was a really bad idea.
My therapist had come and tried to figure me out. She asked me some random questions, some questions that were plain stupid. Mrs. Wilkes then took Lila outside and started talking to her and the boys about how I had serious problems and needed a specialist.
PTSD, depression, anxiety, insomnia, and other issues were things that Mrs. Wilkes was concerned about. I didn't see how I had PTSD or depression or insomnia. PTSD was for veterans who had been through the horrors of war. I hadn't been through anything like that.
I might have wanted to die a few times, but could you blame me? I didn't think that made me depressed. It made me sad. Not even that, there was just this hollow expanse where my heart was supposed to be sometimes.
Anxiety I could understand. Insomnia was a bit of a stretch. I didn't sleep for a couple nights, had nightmares the rest of the time I slept and suddenly I was an insomniac? I didn't think so.
"What about, sweetie?" Lila asked, her smile fake. She was really worried about me. I didn't understand it.
I'd dealt with everything happening to me for so long, I didn't know how to react when someone else tried to help me.
Well, that was what Mrs. Wilkes said.
"The dining room." I whispered, my eyes firmly planted on the door. Jaydon rubbed his stomach. I smiled at everyone, took my bag from Kade, and then headed up to my room. Lila followed me.
I only stopped walking when Lila's hand finally caught my wrist. She was biting her lip, something she only did when she was nervous. Really nervous.
I set my bag down on the step and sat down, waiting for Lila to sit next to me. She did slowly, running her palms up and down her legs. Why was everyone so nervous around me all of a sudden? It was somewhat irritating.
"Are you sure you're ready for all of this, Ariel? If you aren't, I completely understand. We can move to the house across the city. We also have a house in California and Florida and Canada if you need a big change." Lila offered, her face tight with anxiousness. Maybe the therapist should have looked into Lila's soul to try and see if she had anxiety.
I shook my head, looking at my hands. My fingers were entwined on my lap. I studied my chipped nails that hadn't ever been painted.
"I'm fine. I lived in the same house that my mother died in for months and you're asking if I can handle a house that I went through an attack in? Lila, it's sweet but I really am fine." I assured her.
She pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed the skin there. I felt like I was giving her a headache by just speaking, so I slammed my mouth shut.
"You shouldn't be fine, Ariel. You should be screaming and crying and demanding we move or at least saying that you hate the boys and I. The last thing you should be is fine." Lila snapped, sounding tired and worried.
I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her I was used to being beaten in my own home. I wanted to tell her that I was fine because that was what I always had to be.
Somehow, I didn't think that would do much comforting.
"Lila, honestly, you need to stop worrying about me." I whispered, digging my thumbnail into my other hand. It was a way to relieve the stress of the situation. I guess that was what Mrs. Wilkes meant when she said I had 'self destructive tendencies'.
Lila ran her hand through her hair, messing up her perfect bun. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. I suppose that she had hoped more would come from that conversation. More of me opening up or something.
I didn't know what anyone wanted me to say. If they told me what they wanted me to say, I would say it. But I didn't know what they wanted. I didn't want to say anything that would upset them. Upsetting them was the last thing I wanted.
"Ariel, I could never stop worrying about you. You're my daughter." She mumbled, before standing and brushing her pants off. There wasn't any dirt, so I guessed that it was a habit or a nervous tick of some sort.
There was a deep, echoing silence. I sat on the step, my eyes open and my forehead leaning against my knees. The pressure that I made my knees put on my forehead hurt, but it distracted me from thinking about what had just happened.
Self destructive was a funny way of saying 'Avoiding thinking about certain things so that I don't hurt those around me'. At least, I thought it was slightly amusing.
But my self destructive tendencies seemed to make those around me happier. That made me happy. Was that so wrong?
Self destructive happiness.
My father being put behind bars should've ended my worries. Should've put me at peace with the world.
Instead I had a whole new set of problems that I was a rookie at handling, apparently.
Goodie.