I felt much more human after all of the pampering and
beautification. I’m not a shallow person. However, after several months of
wearing workout clothes, no bra and sneakers, it felt nice to be gussied up. It
felt nice now. Then I remembered why I’m all gussied up.
Going to the hospital.
My heart fell to my feet.
Breathe, Bella.
In and out.
You are safe.
You’d think after nearly two months of therapy, a lot of
journaling and increase in my dosage for my anti-depressants and my
anti-anxiety pills, I’d be able to walk into the hospital. Nope. Not so much. I
did, however, know that Edward was having it worse than me. When I finally
stopped and looked at someone other than myself, I saw him. Really saw him. He
was gaunt, thin, nervous, terrified and worried. I had flashbacks and
occasional nightmares. Edward had night terrors. I knew when it was really bad
for him when I felt his arms banded around me, clinging to me so tightly that I
thought he’d break my healing ribs. His sobs at night broke my heart.
I knew I pushed him away. I needed him like the air that I
breathe but my fucked up head felt like he was going to dump my ass. It took
until I had fallen in the tub to finally see that he was in it for the long
haul. I mentally berated myself for shutting myself off from him, but I knew
we’d make it. After that night, things improved, exponentially. My nightmares
dwindled and Edward managed to sleep through the night without having a night
terror. Instead, we were cuddled in each other’s arms, happy to be with each
other.
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