“Baby, let's get out of the apartment. I want to take you to dinner,” he said as he sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at me with tenderness in his eyes.
“I'm not going out tonight, Trent,” I said before rolling over in my bed, my back towards him. I could hear him sigh heavily in frustration. Or was it irritation? I wasn't really sure. I knew he was tired of this. Tired of the ginormous change in me. Tired of trying to pull me out of myself and help me get back to some semblance of normality.
I felt his warm hand rest gently on my back. “Tell me what I need to do, Ellie. Just tell me what I need to do to take this pain away for you and I'll do it.” His voice was a whisper, nearly pleading.
“Nothing, Trent. There's nothing you can do. There's nothing you can say. You might as well just go home.” I held back the tears as my voice cracked in a hushed tone. His hand gripped my shoulder, and I could practically feel him wince behind me when I told him to leave. Why was I still doing this? Pushing him away. Refusing to let him back in. I knew this wasn't fair to him, but for some reason, the wrong words just kept flowing out of my mouth. Trent went home last night after giving me a soft kiss to my forehead, and I was left wondering if that was the final push he needed. Did I just seal myself a fate without Trent by continually testing his patience? Continually avoiding, pushing away, closing off, and putting up giant walls.
My physician strongly encouraged me to begin therapy and take a medical leave of absence from Regency. He could see the grief and depression engulfing me whole. Empathy and concern filled his eyes at my appointment today. I know I need help. I know what I need to do. I know this, and yet, here I am, taking no action. Making no effort to help myself, heal myself. I dial the number to the one person who understands me, who will listen, who will lend a willing ear, who will be my shoulder to cry on.
"Hey, sweetie. It's so good to hear your voice."
"Hi, Mom." Tears start to fill my eyes.
"How are you?"
"I'm all right…" My lips tremble with sadness and a sob bubbles up from my throat.
"Oh, baby girl, what's wrong? Your father and I have been so worried about you." My mom's voice is etched with concern. My parents came immediately when they got news of my attack. My mom stayed with me in the hospital for several days and even helped me get settled back into my apartment. It was hard to see her head back home to Louisville, but responsibilities of the family diner were causing a strain. I could tell she was torn and didn't want to leave my side, but Amy, Trent, and Lizzy made sure she knew I would be well taken care of.
"Everything. Absolutely everything." The waterworks have started, and I feel no end in sight. My chest burns with each gasping breath.
"I'm here for you, Ellen. I'm always here for you. Take a deep breath, try to calm down, and tell me what's going on, sweetie."
And with that, I tell her everything. Everything that is bothering me. Trent. The attack. The grief and depression that's consuming me. I'm desperately screaming for help, for guidance, for someone to just fucking tell me what I need to do. For someone to tell me that everything is going to be okay. And that's what she does. She throws me a lifeline, an inflatable life vest to save me from drowning. She helps me see what I know I'm avoiding, what I'm running away from, what I'm sadly attempting to squash down and ignore.
She's right about everything, and deep down, I know this. I already know this. I know what I need to do, what I have to do, what I will do. I'm not weak. I've never been the type of girl to let something take over my life, ruin me every minute of every day. I've never been that girl, and I refuse to start being that girl now. For the first time since the attack, I feel renewed, invigorated with hope that things can get better, that I can get through this. I can get past the horrible things Frank did to me. I'm thankful to be alive, and for that, I should be on my hands and knees thanking God. I should be relishing every second of every day, grateful for how things actually turned out.
I'm not sure what will happen with Trent and me. I obviously love him. I love him so much that I can literally feel my heart trying to escape from my chest, aching for him, screaming for him. He saved my life in more ways than one. He saved me from the girl I was turning into after John. He saved me from myself. He saved me from my mentally disturbed attacker who had my life in his cold, careless hands. I may not get to stay with Trent, but at least I got to be with him. I got to experience his love and endless kindness, even if I feel like it was too short.
I'm lying in the bathtub, warm water soothing my tired, achy muscles.
Relaxing me.
Calming me.