Imperfect Truth(59)

The calm evaporates as I realize where I am. Awareness falls upon me as memories flood my mind, rushing at me. A surge of emotions grips my heart. My eyelids flicker. I blink them and close my eyes.

“Ava, thank God. I thought…I thought I’d lost you. When Jules called me and said she couldn’t find you, I went to our apartment. And then, and then when I found you…”

I open my eyes again and focus on his movement. I can see he is visibly shaking, and his eyes are glazed over with fear and sadness.

The silence in the room stretches as the minutes pass. Slowly the fog lifts, revealing my morally abhorrent deed that has lead me here. My body shakes from the revelation.

“I thought…I thought I lost you,” he stammers, finally breaking the silence.

I did this to him.

“When I saw you lying there so still, I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you, I thought...I...” He places his hands over his face. “I know I let you down. I’m sorry for what I said. For what I didn’t say…”

“Alex…” I don’t recognize my own raspy voice. I search within myself, and I carefully select the words deep in my soul that I need to say. “You crushed me, everything you said, everything you didn’t.”

“They were just words. They meant nothing.” I shake my head back and forth and try to regain my composure.

“They meant everything to me. You broke me, Alexandre. Your indifference slowly killed me. He ruined me but you…you annihilated me.” Alexandre noticeably flinches at the mention of Ryder. “It’s too late, it’s too late.” Pain flows through my words as I begin to sob.

“Ava,” his eyes plead with me to hear him out.

“Please, Alex, please leave. You have to let me go. You have to let me stand on my own two feet. It's time I find myself, because somewhere along this road I lost me and became what I thought you wanted...but it was never enough. I was never enough. I need help, and you can't be in my life for me to find it. I don't have it in me to fight if you are here. I will just give you every last piece. Please I’m begging you, leave.”

His face is pale as I speak, and it breaks my heart further.

I watch as he gets up sluggishly.

I watch as he turns back to me, willing me to speak.

I watch as he walks out the door.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My greatest fear has actually come true.

I’M ALONE.





AS I SIT HERE, THE only sound I can hear is that of the nurses speaking quietly outside my door. I know that I won’t be alone for long, but in this moment my room is completely and utterly quiet. I realize that although I find calm in this silence, it doesn’t mean I’m broken. I’m not beyond repair.

I will get help, I will figure out a way to be okay. Still, I can’t stop myself from crying.

My sobs are silent, and it seems like forever that I sit here reflecting. In truth, it’s probably only a matter of minutes before a sweet looking elderly nurse in blue scrubs joins me. She walks over to the porcelain sink against the far wall and starts to wash her hands diligently.

“Well good morning. How are you feeling?” She looks at me warily. “Is there something I can get you dear? I imagine your throat must hurt, let me get you some water.” She walks over to green cabinet on the far side of the room and pours me a glass and hands it to me,

“The doctor will be right in to talk to you,” she advises me with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” My voice is weak. I can barely recognize the sound.

I give her a sad glance and then transfer my focus to the window. The rain is hammering on the pane. I’m transfixed when I hear the sound of someone enter the room.

“Hello Ava, I’m Dr. Brown. You came in early this morning after overtaking some medications. We were forced to perform a gastric lavage. Do you remember anything?”

“I, I didn’t overdose,” my voice is choppy as I try to explain. “I’m prescribed the pills.”

“Yes. Are you aware the appropriate dosage and instructions for taking those medications?”

“I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. I drank before taking them…” As the words flow through me, I watch as Dr. Brown looks at me and proceeds to shoot them down. We speak for a few minutes until he finally leaves. As he walks towards the door, he turns to me.

“I’ve scheduled a psych consult before we allow you to leave tomorrow. This is common practice, and it’s necessary to rule out an overdose. I’m not sure if this was intentional or an accident, but you are a very lucky woman.” His words are laced with judgment; he barely looks at me as he checks my vitals, and leaves me without a word.