“God, I was so scared.” His eyes reach me and lock my gaze.
“You saved me. You saved my life.”
“I could hear your muffled screams when I was walking towards your apartment and I knew. I just knew that something wasn't right. And then, when I saw him on top of you...” Trent shuts his eyes tightly, his jaw grits, and he takes a deep, trembling breath. “When I saw him on top of you, my heart fell out of my chest and I was ready to do anything to save you. Anything.”
“Is he... Is he...” I can't even let his name cross my lips. Thoughts of his putrid breath and vile hands touching me, hurting me, violating me... They are causing my chest to feel heavy. Pressure… So much pressure is pressing down on me, making me unable to breath.
“You're safe, baby. He's dead. He will never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again, I can promise you that.” Trent leans towards my face, tenderly kissing my forehead, and I take a heavy breath. I think this is the first time since Frank walked into my apartment that I feel like I can actually breathe.
“I'm going to go get your family and Amy. They've been worried sick about you.”
“My parents are here?”
Trent lets out a low laugh. “Of course your parents are here, Elle. We've all been worried about you. Rest your eyes. I'll go get them.” He stands up, kissing my forehead one more time, his lips lingering.
“Thank you, Trent.”
“For what?” His look is incredulous.
“For everything. For being here. For being you. For saving me.” A tear falls from my eye and slowly slides down my cheek.
Trent catches the liquid emotion with his fingertip. “I thought we've already established that I love you. Now let's establish that I would do anything for you, always, Ellie. You're important to me. So fucking important to me.” His smile is soft, gentle, and it caresses my soul. He leans down and softly presses his lips to mine. His kiss is tender and affectionate, and it grabs at my heartstrings. And thoughts of Trent moving to Seattle aren't even crossing my mind, because right now, in this moment, I'm just thankful that I'm actually here, alive.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Sadness and grief can be all-consuming. They can eat you alive and leave a shell of your former self. The only resolution is to search deep within yourself and find the will to battle for your well-being. For your chance to be whole again.”
Eight long days at Regency.
Admitted to the ICU for four of the days, I spent the other four days finishing my recovery on a Medical-Surgical floor. I suffered a concussion, several cracked ribs, and a small puncture to my right lung. My face and midsection were covered in bruising from the violent blows I repeatedly received from Frank. I'm lucky, so damn lucky. If Trent wouldn't have happened to come home when he did, I would have been gone. Dead. There is no doubt in my mind that Frank was going to kill me. He was going to violate me in the absolute worst way and then take my life; but Frank was the one who died that critical night. Frank is dead, and I'm alive.
Everyone has been watching over me, trying to help me get through this awful, horrible situation. Physically, I'm doing better, on the mend. Everything is healing, and the only visible remnants of my injuries are the faint bruises on my face and midsection. Emotionally, though? I'm not really dealing with things all that well. Amy, Lizzy, and Trent have been the best support system anyone could ask for. They've spent countless nights at my bedside while I was in the hospital, and they proceeded to help me with everything I needed once I was discharged home. I'm so thankful for them, their support, and their endless love.
It's been four weeks since my attack.
Four long weeks.
These weeks feel more like years. I haven't spoken with Trent all day. His surgery schedule was grueling and the gunshot victim that rolled in at 7 p.m. made it impossible for me to see him before leaving work tonight. My muscles ache and my entire body is carrying the weight of the past couple of weeks. My emotional state is... I'm not even sure what to call it.
Withdrawn?
Emotionless?
I know I'm introverted, closed off, and I'm not myself right now. I'm wallowing in a bottomless pit of grief and anxiety. My nights are sleepless, restless, and bringing me closer to my breaking point. Every day, flashbacks of my attack consume my mind and nearly choke me to death. Visions of Frank in my apartment wake me up at night. His cold, soulless eyes staring down at me while his vile hands are all over my body.
These thoughts, these recollections, are overwhelming. They are slowly taking pieces of my sanity, day by day, minute by minute. Every day a small piece of my heart, my soul, is stolen from me. Trent and I haven't been getting along all that well lately. I'm short and terse and would rather wallow in my own self-pity than spend time with him. I think last night was nearly the last straw for Trent. He came over to my apartment to spend some time with me and my detached, pathetic state just put a giant roadblock between us.