The Fragile Fall (19 page)

“I totally agree.”

We headed home, both of us exhausted. As soon as we got home, I went into my room and collapsed on my bed, emotionally and physically drained, and fell into a fitful sleep, visions of Will in a pool of blood haunting my dreams.

Will

L
YING
IN
A
HOSPITAL
BED
and staring at the ceiling, I tried to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. It just didn’t seem real that I had almost died last night, but the IV in my left hand, the stitches, and bandages didn’t lie. I was numb.

And I found it incredibly hard to care.

Last night, I had bled all of my emotions out. I was no longer tormented with memories, and the debilitating emotions didn’t bring me to my knees. The weight of my actions weren’t crushing me and I wasn’t second guessing everything.

A vacation from my daily existence.

But I was waiting for the dam to break. For the emotions that were hiding to come rushing out and to drown in them.

The peacefulness couldn’t last forever.

As I was staring at the ceiling, contemplating where I was going to go from here, someone knocked on the door, but I didn’t move my head or pull my eyes away from the ceiling. Instead, I continued staring at the ceiling.

It was the only thing that mattered.

“Will?” Ryanne said, her voice barely above a whisper and it felt like an embrace. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound of her voice, especially since I hadn’t heard it in so long. “Are you awake?”

The walls around my emotions trembled and I fought to stay neutral. “Yeah.” My voice sounded hoarse. I hadn’t said much since I’d regained consciousness.

“Oh, good.”

She looked over her shoulder and motioned to someone. Jax followed her into the room. They sat in the chairs by my bed. “How are you feeling?”

I shrugged.

“I know, stupid question.” We sat in silence, even though there was so much I wanted to say to them. I didn’t see the point. Jax tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and Ryanne sat forward in her chair as I continued my staring contest.

Ry cleared her throat. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. Nothing happened.” My voice was flat.

“Obviously
something
happened, Will.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

We went back to uncomfortable, unbearable silence. In so many ways, I wished they would just leave.

“Is your nurse hot?” Jax asked. I actually turned my head to look at him and his lips twitched into a grin. Leave it to Jax to diffuse the tension in the room.

“She’s old and round.”

“That sucks. You deserve a hot nurse after all the shit you’ve been through.”

I felt my lips curl into a smile, which surprised me. I hadn’t thought I was capable of smiling. Ryanne elbowed Jax. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” Ry asked.

I shrugged. “No clue, though they told me at least two weeks.”

“I think it’s good that you’re going.” She reached over and touched my hand. I flinched from the contact, but feeling her skin again made the walls around my emotions crumble a bit.

“Probably.”

A nurse pushed open the door and came over, checking my vitals. “You’ll be transferred in about thirty minutes,” she said before she left.

I went back to staring at the ceiling. I had to say goodbye to Jax and Ryanne all over again and I wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

“We should probably leave so they can get you ready to move.” Ryanne stood and walked to the side of my bed. Bending slightly, she hugged me. I closed my eyes and clung to her, wishing her touch could make it all better. “You work on getting better,” she whispered in my ear. “We’ll be here whenever you get out, okay?” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, offering a small smile.

“We’ll see you when you get out of here, okay?” Jax said with a nod, then left the room.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Will.”

Then Ryanne was gone and I was left alone.

A few hours later, I sat on the bed in my new temporary home. The walls were a pale yellow, the floors were an off white color, and the beds were white. I had on a light blue, baggy outfit that was issued to me by the hospital—nothing sharp, no shoes, no laces.

I was directed into the psychiatric ward and given a basic orientation. I was only moments away from meeting my therapist for the first time, and nerves chewed away at my stomach. After so many months of blowing off my therapist, could I really do this? Spill my guts to a stranger and become better? What if this therapist was like my old one? My old therapist didn’t care about how I was doing or feeling as long as he got the money for my visit. I was worried, but I knew this was something I needed to do.

A nurse appeared in the doorway of my room. “Will, the doctor is ready for you now.”

I stood and followed her. At the end of a long hallway, we entered the TV room which was filled with people playing games, staring at the TV, and reading. A man in a wheelchair sat in the corner drooling on himself, and another woman sat in the corner pulling at her hair and muttering nonsense. I was overwhelmed and scared, wishing I could have the numbness back to deal with this crushing anxiety.

Down another long hallway, the nurse stopped and pointed at a door. “Dr. Thomas is waiting for you. I’ll be back at the end of your session to help you back to your room. I don’t want you to get lost.” She smiled at me.

“Thanks.” I turned the knob and walked inside. There was a large wooden desk in the middle of the room, covered in papers. Two plush chairs were lined up against the wall with another chair facing it. Dr. Thomas was sitting behind the desk and she looked up when I walked in, then stood and walked around the desk.

“Hi, Will,” she said, offering me her hand. “I’m Dr. Thomas. It’s nice to meet you.” She was younger than I thought she would be. Her hair was a honey-brown color and fell straight to her shoulders, and her eyes were a deep brown. When I shook her hand, I realized how small she was; several inches shorter than me. She smiled warmly and I tried to relax.

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Come in and have a seat where ever you’d like.” She motioned toward the chairs. After I was seated, she sat across from me and put a pad of paper in her lap. “I know you don’t know me, so I’m not expecting you to trust me right away. I only want you to know that everything you say in here is completely confidential. I’m here to help you. You are free to talk about anything you want to talk about.” I nodded. “Why don’t we start with a little bit about you? Tell me what it was like growing up.”

“I had a pretty good childhood, I guess.” I fidgeted with my fingers in my lap. I felt put on the spot, though I knew this was the only way I would ever be able to cope with my life. “But I was pretty sheltered.”

“How were you sheltered?” She wrote something on the pad of paper.

“My mom homeschooled me and the only activities I was allowed to be involved in were church related.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Fine, I guess. Though now I wish I would have been allowed to do more. Maybe if I had been allowed to do more, things would have ended differently.” I didn’t want to say anything negative about my parents. I had done enough to them.

“I can understand that.” We spent some more time going over my relationship with my parents and the way it was when I was growing up. She wasn’t judgmental and I relaxed as we talked.

“I’d like to talk briefly about what happened last night before our time is over today.”

“Okay.” I shifted in my seat, not sure if I wanted to dive into this topic yet.

“Tell me what went through your mind.”

I sat there, toying with the adhesive securing the gauze to my arm, trying to think of how to describe what I had been feeling. Everything I could think of would trivialize it and that wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted my words to convey how tortured I’d felt for months. “I was having flashbacks.”

She wrote on her paper. “What about?”

“About the accident.”

Her eyes met mine. “What accident?”

I tried to gather strength. This was where she would condemn me and tell me I was a horrible person and I deserved only awful things. I started at the beginning, telling her how I had lied to my parents and gone to a party. I left no detail out. When I finished speaking, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I could breathe.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you, Will. That is unfortunate and tragic.” She paused a few seconds. “I want you to know it wasn’t your fault. Yes, you should have made better decisions, but you didn’t intend for your parents to die. You were merely trying to exert some independence and experience life without your parents holding you back. You need to let go of the guilt.”

“I don’t think I deserve to let go of the guilt. I don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“Why?”

“They’re dead because of me.”

“What do you think your parents would do? Would they forgive you or would they torture you forever for one night of bad decisions?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think about it.”

I knew my parents. If they were alive, they would have been disappointed in me and I definitely would have been punished, but they wouldn’t hold it over my head. They loved me too much. “I guess they would forgive me.”

“Then why are you denying yourself forgiveness?” There was no reply to that statement. I couldn’t think of a single one. “This was an excellent start for our first session. We’ll meet again tomorrow and you can answer my question. If there is anything at all you need, tell one of the nurses and they will be more than happy to help you out.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you find your stay here helpful, Will.”

“Me too.”

I left her office and went back to my plain room. Lying on the bed, I felt hope for the first time in months.

I could
figure out a way to overcome everything.

I could
come out the other side better, maybe not completely healed, but
I could
be better than I was.

Aunt Liv, Ryanne, and Jax were all on my side, and with Dr. Thomas’ help, I would figure it all out.

I could
do this because I wasn’t alone.

Will

“Y
ESTERDAY
WE
LEFT
OFF
WITH
you thinking about why you are denying yourself forgiveness. Have you been able to come up with anything?” Dr. Thomas asked.

I fished an ice cube out of my cup and rubbed it against my arm. It was a method she’d suggested to help deal with the urge to cut, but so far, it only made the urge stronger. “Because I don’t deserve it.”

“We’ve established that, but why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think on it a minute, see what comes to mind.”

I sat there, staring at the ice melting and worried about the puddle it would make. It didn’t stop me from holding it against my arm until it burned from the cold. “I’m an awful person. I disobeyed my parents, I drank illegally, I convinced my clearly drunk friend to drive me home, and I killed my parents.”