Song for chapter nineteen: Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne
|Skyler|
I sat crunched over a seat in the waiting room at Doctor Miranda's office. My legs bounced up and down — conveniently annoying the woman next to me. My hands wrung together until my knuckles became red.
The waiting area was typical, with medical puns and posters pasted all over the white walls, and chairs that surrounded a small suspended television that was muted. The front desk sat an old lady who's glasses were hanging so low on her nose that I don't even think they helped her eyes at all. She typed away on her computer, probably playing solitaire.
The woman next to me shot me an exasperated look as she clutched a cat magazine in her hands.
"Sorry," I muttered under my breath, placing my hands over my knees to stop them from bouncing any more.
"Skyler, Doctor Miranda is ready," the old lady at the front announced, for the first time looking up from her computer.
I nodded and stood up, slower than a sloth. My legs moved robotically, following the command of the more rational portion of my brain. If I ran off now it would just give them all the more reason to make me come back. I had to show them that I was fine and that I was capable of handling everything.
The less rational section of my brain was shouting and urging me to make a run for it while I still could, so I could save myself from the pain that was bound to happen.
Oh lord, can I please just be with Aden right now instead of here. I have to summon every single God to help me get through this.
The last time I was here, just a week after I came to New York, I bursted out of the room a sobbing mess and ran all the way back to Aunt Claire's apartment. And let me just say, it took a long while to walk back on foot.
I gulped and pushed open the door to Doctor Miranda's office. I wasn't surprised to see her already sitting on her large chair by the couch.
Her office was a large one. Just like in the waiting area, the walls were mostly painted white, with some baby blue accents here and there. The walls were free of posters and pictures, unlike the waiting area.
The one thing I liked about her office though was the fact that it was large enough to hold more than just one couch. I could choose a variety of places to sit, the couch, the chair next to Doctor Miranda (who would choose that intentionally?), and a small one person couch closer to the door.
"It's nice to finally see you again Skyler," Doctor Miranda spoke with a kind smile on her lips. She had a soothing voice, just not when she was coercing me into talking about things I didn't want to.
I managed a smile, but it came out more like a grimace, "Yeah, so nice."
I took a seat on the large couch near Doctor Miranda, even though a large part of my brain was screaming at me to take the chair closer to the door for my convenience when I needed to make a break for it. Perhaps I could fall asleep on the couch while she was talking. That wouldn't be too bad. My shoulders remained taut and I crossed my legs over each other, shoving my hands between my lap.
"So, how have you been?" she asked me once I settled down on the couch.
I shrugged, "I've been fine."
"No problems fitting in at a new environment or anything like it?" she asked.
I shook my head, "I quite like it here I guess. It could be worse."
She nodded, picking up a notepad from her lap as she jotted down some notes. Being analyzed by some woman was definitely not fun at all. I don't recommend it.
Doctor Miranda eyed me for a short moment, "I suspect that you'd just like to get straight to the point?"
I supposed that cutting to the chase would speed things up, and I could get out of here quickly — sort of like ripping a bandaid off.
"Yeah that would be nice," I nodded.
"So, how have you been sleeping at night?" she asked. I raised an eyebrow, knowing that Aunt Claire must've brought this up while she made the appointment.
"Better than I had been before," I told her without hesitation. "Sometimes I still struggle, but now I can fall asleep just fine."
"That's good, I'll hold off on any sleeping pills. What do you think about when you're unable to sleep?" Doctor Miranda asked.
"Um..." I started. Just say it, it's not that hard idiot. "Most of the time if I can't sleep I... I think about my mom."
"And what about it?" she asked after scribbling something down on a notepad.
I shut my eyes, placing my head in my hands. My breath gradually grew heavier as I reminded myself to take deep breaths and my heart pounded louder and louder, threatening to pounce out of my chest.
I swallowed hard and took another deep breath, "How she died."
Doctor Miranda nodded, "And how did she die?"
I scowled at her, peering up from my hands, "You know how she died."
"No I don't. We never got around to talk about it," she shook her head, a nonchalant expression on her face. I focused my gaze at the ground, and the vague memory of how I'd run off last session when Doctor Miranda had asked me the same question played in my mind.
Two months ago, I didn't even want to think about it and I didn't consider telling anyone. The memory just replayed in my mind over and over again like a broken record. Not much had changed.
"Most of the time, talking about something can help a great deal," Doctor Miranda said. I looked up to find her staring at me with a soft smile.
But what if it hurts more than it does to make me feel better?
"It will hurt in the beginning, but it will help you feel better in the long run," she continued as if she'd read my mind. "What have you got to lose?"
My dignity, if I ran off again.
I took a deep breath and reluctantly nodded, eyeing at the hardwood floor underneath my feet again to avoid her scrutinizing eyes. I took deep breaths to calm myself, but each time I tried to force the words out, my breathing became shallow and erratic as my lungs threatened to collapse in my chest. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room.
Tears began to blur my vision of the floor beneath me. I swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in my throat and tried to force myself to begin.
I blinked, trying to ease the tears that rimmed my eyes, but when I did, large teardrops trailed down my cheeks and I finally succumbed to it, letting out sobs loud enough to echo through the office and perhaps into the waiting area even though my hand was clamped over my mouth. All the feelings and emotions that I'd buried away for weeks resurfaced.
My brain flashed back images of my mother, mutilated and trapped between the truck and her car. The bottom half of her body barely even recognizable underneath the bloodstained cloth. If I had just yelled louder, or ran faster my mom could still be alive today.
I couldn't do this. I'd spent the last two months trying to forget, and this was the reason why.
I shot up from my seat on the couch, steadying myself with a hand still on it as the room spun around me.
"I-I'm sorry, I can't do this," I choked out before sprinting towards the door. I swung it open and I ran out to the waiting area, ignoring the calls of Doctor Miranda and the surprised stares of other patients.
I stumbled to the elevator and pressed the button repeatedly, as if that would help it arrive quicker. I placed a hand on the wall in front of me, trying to steady myself as I controlled my breathing. It didn't work however as each breath I took dissolved into a sob. The room around me still spun like I'd just gotten off a roller coaster, and my chest heaved.
Doctor Miranda bursted out of her office and my eyes widened. I pressed the button to the elevator a few more times.
"Skyler, I can help you get through this," she started to say, she watched me with a pair of concerned eyes.
My head snapped in her direction down the hall, scowling, "I don't need your help."
I pushed myself from the wall and sprinted in the other direction, away from Doctor Miranda and towards the staircase. She'd catch up to me before the elevator came.
I stumbled down the stairs, taking two at a time even though my vision was distorted from the tears streaming out of my eyes and down my face. I only slowed down when I heard my own footsteps, realizing that no one was behind me.
Just like the last time I was here, I would be walking home on foot. But anything at this point was worth it to be out of that stuffy office.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly wiped away the tears from my eyes and fished the phone out.
It was a message from Aden.
"Hey, we didn't get to talk much today, I was just wondering what you're up to. Perhaps you'd be up for a party if you're not still busy?"
I let out another choked sob, a few droplets streaming down my face as I shoved the phone back into my pocket.
Aden didn't deserve someone like me. He needed someone who could lift him up, not bring him down. If he got any closer he wouldn't have to deal with just me. He'd have to deal with my constant therapy sessions that I run out of, and the sleepless nights.
Tears streamed down my face freely and I avoided the odd looks from strangers around me as I trudged down the street. I was ashamed that they had to see me that way. Like some weak little girl.
I didn't deserve Aden. Perhaps I didn't deserve anyone anymore.
Here I was, living life while my mom was buried six feet under. It wasn't fair. The guilt seemed to eat away at me, and I didn't want her to be forgotten.
I walked back into an empty house and shut the door behind me. I didn't bother turning on the lights, even though it was almost pitch black with the sun set.
The tears had long dried from my face and I was left with the familiar emptiness that plagued my heart and my stomach. No matter how hard I tried, no tears came out, leaving me numb.
I poured a glass of water from the tap to quench my parched throat when Aunt Claire opened the door and stepped into the apartment. Her hair was slightly disheveled, flyaways sprawled out of her bun, and her suit was crinkled.
She took one look at my puffy eyes and cheeks and sighed with relief, her eyes also beginning to cloud with tears.
"I went to pick you up from Doctor Miranda's office, she said you ran off again," Aunt Claire sighed, standing across the counter from me.
I shrugged in response, even though the knots in my stomach threatened to spill the contents of my lunch out of my mouth. I downed the rest of the water in my cup and put it in the sink.
"You have to go back Skyler," she stated, as if it was the easiest thing ever done. "I don't know what happened to bring you to run off, but it will help you."
I snapped my head in her direction as I glowered at her, irritated, "No, I went this time like you wanted me to, I'm not going again."
"How will you get better from this?" she challenged, an eyebrow cocked up. "I know you're not when your bedroom light is turned on at four in the morning, or when you avoid any conversation about your mother."
"I'm dealing with it on my own," I said through gritted teeth.
Aunt Claire opened her mouth again but her ringtone of her phone interrupted her. She took one look at the caller ID and sighed.
"It's fine. Go take it," I told her in a harsh tone, though I was more than relieved that the conversation could be cut short.
"This conversation isn't over," she eyed me as she picked up the call. Just as I thought, it was from her work.
Sure mother. I thought ironically.
I headed back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me as I collapsed onto my bed, my thoughts completely empty as I felt the hole in my stomach grow larger and larger. There was a knock on the door a few minutes later and Aunt Claire poked her head in, a conflicted expression on her face.
"That was work," she said. "There's an emergency and they need me over there. This is not the time, if you don't want me to go I'll tell them—"
"It's fine," I cut her off. "I'll be fine, like always. Just go." Work had kept her constantly away for the past two weeks anyways, another night wouldn't hurt me. At least that wasn't what hurt the most anyways.
"I'll be home later," she said quickly, shooting me an apologetic expression before shutting the door behind her. I listened until the front door to the apartment shut as well before the tears began to burn my eyes again as I stared blankly at the ceiling. It wasn't long until those tears dissolved into quiet sobs that I muffled with my hand.
I cried for myself for losing my mom. I cried for my mom, who died so young and fast. I cried for all the memories I had of her that now pained me too much to remember. I cried because it shouldn't be this way. I cried for the fact that I was alive and she wasn't. I cried for Aden because I would never deserve him.
My hands reached into my bedside table and they wrapped around the bottle of Zoloft pills that was still full to the brim. In a rush of anger, I catapulted the bottle across my room.
It crashed into the wall with a loud bang and collapsed onto the floor, pills spilling out of the bottle haphazardly.
My fingers dug around the drawer again, pulling out a small newspaper that I'd stuffed in the back two months ago when I came. I never read newspapers, just this one.
There was a small blurb about my mother, with a picture of my her and I, and a small image next to us of the damaged truck that crashed into her. The headline and paragraph spoke about the accident and how tragic it was. It was a small blurb, not even half a page long. As if it was completely insignificant. As if I hadn't just lost the one person I had left in this world.
It was odd how something could be so insignificant to others, but could be life changing to another.
I just wanted to be normal again. Like a normal teenager who didn't need antidepressants to deal with grief, who's mother was still alive to boss her around. With an angry cry I chucked the newspaper across the room as well, and it landed a mess next to the pills.
I just needed to forget my life for one night.
Suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb had flashed into my brain. I sat up, taking deep breaths to control my breathing as I wiped my eyes. I knew what could help me forget for just one night.
A party.
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Hope you all liked this chapter! Please do vote, comment and share if you did I would really appreciate it!
Looks like Skyler couldn't do it! Maybe she will be able to talk about it later?
~SweetnessInTheSalt