I heard that sentence before. I remembered listening to that same conversation once upon a time. And the realization that it was from my past made the fear deeply penetrate me. It took over and my breathing grew short and erratic. I was having another panic attack and I couldn't stop it. I needed help, that was all I knew for certain at that point.
The voices faded in the distance as I tried desperately to piece everything together. Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? I remembered that moment so vividly, but it had never felt so real. I literally felt as if I was back in that hospital, listening to the doctors and nurses speak around me but never to me.
The cold tile against my back answered my questions … no, I wasn't dreaming. I was officially losing it. First my dad, then my mom, and now the hospital. I was going crazy. I needed to end it. I needed it all to go away, but it wouldn't.
I could hear the faint whispers of the kids at school, talking about my family like they would talk about a movie: "Did you hear what happened to Caden?" … "Ask him what he saw." … "No, you ask him; I'm sure he'd tell you." … "Do you think he had anything to do with it?"
I heard the people on the TV reporting about it. My aunt always tried to keep the volume down so I wouldn't hear, but I still heard it all: "Tragedy … horrific … avoidable … "
I switched on my television set and flipped through the channels just to prove to myself that it wasn't real. Even with the sound up as high as it would go, along with my music on in another room, I could still hear the voices. They were coming at me all at once.
"Post traumatic stress."
"I can't even imagine what he witnessed in there."
"He's probably going to be scarred for life."
Yes, faceless voice that echoes around me, I'm fucking scarred for life.
I accepted that fate long ago, but hoped that if I were successful in my professional life, it wouldn't matter how many scars I hid on the inside. So that's what I did. I finished school, I became a highly successful and talked about therapist. I even bought a house and a fancy car to prove how normal I was. I did all of those things to show the world that no matter what I had gone through when I was eight, I was capable of anything.
And I was capable of everything except a relationship. But I didn't care about that. I didn't want a relationship, never needed one. I knew firsthand how destructive they were and never cared to be in one. Until Ivy. But I wasn't stupid; I knew without a doubt that a relationship with Ivy would be beyond destructive. It would be catastrophic. And that was being proven by my hallucinations and self-induced lockdown.
Realization crept in, taking hold of me and making it difficult to breathe. I was alone. I had no one, and if I died on the kitchen floor, no one would know. I could be there for days, months even, before anyone would find me. And I was the only one to blame. I had pushed everyone out to avoid ending up like my parents, yet there I was, exactly like them. Alone.
I stumbled around the house as minutes blurred, giving me a false sense of the amount of time I searched for my phone. I found it plugged in on my bedside table and had no idea who had plugged it in or how it had gotten there. I had email alerts and a few text messages from Doctor Klaussen, but I didn't even look at any of those. I bypassed the popups and scrolled through my call list until I found Alyssa. I needed her. Even though I had no idea why I needed her, I just did, so I called her.
"Hello?" She sounded off … sleepy? Was she confused? Was it all in my head?
"I need you," I barely got out past the lump in my throat. Was I crying?
I heard a sigh. Was it hers? Was it mine? I wasn't sure.
"Please," I cried in desperation, not remembering the last time I had ever felt so distressed. "I'm fucking losing my mind. I need you."
"What's going on? Are you having a panic attack?" She sounded worried, that I knew for sure.
"I don't know. I'm hearing things … seeing things."
"Are you drunk?" And just like that, the worry was gone, replaced by irritation.
"I don't know. I have been drinking. What day is it?"
"Where are you?"
I looked around, trying to find the answer to her question. Why didn't I know where I was? Why was I having a hard time thinking? "My room. I'm in my room."
"Send me your address. I'm calling 9-1-1."
"No!" I shouted, feeling my own spit fly out of my mouth. "I can't go back there. I can't see those doctors again. They know me. They'll talk about me." Hysterics had officially set it and that's when I lost any remaining composure I had left in me. I started crying out loud, feeling the pressure of it all wrap around me. My entire body constricted and everything started going black.
"Just text me your address, Cade."
I sent Alyssa my address four times. I messed up the first three times but I was sure I had it right the last time. If not, I would die alone. But then I started to question why she would need it. She knew where I lived. Was I hallucinating that as well? Had I even called her? I checked my call log once more and her name wasn't there. I hadn't called her. I had imagined the whole damn thing.
I chose to give up in that moment. I couldn't even call for help correctly. I wasn't able to call for help when I was eight, and I couldn't do it at thirty-four. I should have known that moment would come. It was written in the stars. My life was mapped out from early on and there was no way to change it. All of the years I had trained myself to avoid the inevitable was worthless.
I climbed onto my bed, not bothering to get under the covers, and closed my eyes. Images crossed in front of my eyelids and invaded my mind, flashing like a movie reel. This had happened once before, but I knew I wouldn't wake up this time. I knew it would be the end. Ivy Jaymes had blinded me until I found myself reliving the worst days of my life.
I had thought about Ivy so much I conjured her up. She was everywhere-next to me, touching my face, running her hands through my hair, walking around, talking softly to me. She was so imbedded in me that I would die, taking her memory with me. I was sure of that.
"Don't leave me," I whispered to her as she brushed my hair away from my forehead.
"I won't," she promised on a whisper.
I knew I would never see her again and needed to tell her things. And if admitting them out loud to an empty room full of images of Ivy was the only way to relieve the ache, then that's what I would have to do. "I am in love with you, Ivy. I don't know what love is or what it's supposed to feel like, but I love you."
"No … you don't love me. You own me."
"And you own me. All of me, including my heart and soul."
"Sleep, Cade." That was the last thing I heard before everything went black. And I knew it was okay to leave. It was okay to let go, knowing that my last memory was of her. The only person to ever own my heart, body and soul.
*****
The first thing that my brain registered was the sensation of a drum pounding in my head. It brought me out of the dark depths of numbness and back to the land of living. The next feeling I had was the blinding light in my face. And I was back there. I was back at the hospital; I knew that before I ever opened my eyes. The one thing that struck me as odd was the quietness of the room. There was no beeping of monitors or feet shuffling around me or orders being shouted out. Where the fuck was I?
That's when my eyes shot open and focused on the ceiling fan above me. Not a hospital room, but my room-in my house. How was I there? I couldn't comprehend anything as my mind bounced around. My dad had been there, but that was impossible-my dad was dead. I had heard my mom, but again, my subconscious reminded me that my mom was also dead. The nurses, the doctors... everything-all a dream, my mind rationalized. But it all felt so real. Including Ivy. Ivy … I had heard her voice and I had felt the emotion in it.
I slowly sat up and the room whirled around me. My ears were ringing and made it impossible to hear anything. Was I deaf? Was I dead? Was this heaven? I didn't know anything anymore. My knuckles were black and blue, crusted over by blood. I fought hard to think about why that would have been, but came up empty.
My phone was next to me. I checked it for the date and time-Thursday, eleven o'clock in the morning. The last thing I remembered to be true was leaving Ivy's apartment, and that had been on Friday. Where did five days go? And what happened in that time?
I got up, steadying myself on my feet as my limbs tingled and my sight began to fade. I waited a few moments before the tingling subsided and my vision came back, along with my hearing. My mouth tasted like battery acid had dried in it and I realized I was still in the same jeans I had on when I left Ivy's place. I wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes and vomit was crusted along the bottoms of my jeans. I stripped them off as fast as I could without falling over and headed straight for the shower. I needed to wash off the stench and clear my head.