Author's Note: So, the idea for this story came into my head a little while ago and it would just not go away so this is the result. This story is a little dark and it contains more serious subject matter than probably should be used for a Disney movie. But, like I said, this idea would not get out of my head. It's pretty much a Mitchie story because I really liked her. I hope everybody likes this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock.
The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet
I'll catch you
I'll catch you
When people say things that bring you to your knees
I'll catch you
The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry
But, I'll hold you through the night until you smile
Jump, Then Fall - Taylor Swift
When I entered the room, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt and allowed the heavy wooden door to slowly click closed behind me. My eyes immediately focused on your huddled form. Your were laying on top of your bed, your body stark and curled up in a ball on one side. My jaw dropped; it was immediately obvious to me that you were not the same Mitchie that I remembered. A few minutes before, I met your doctor and he told me all about your condition.
He told me you were here because you had slit your wrists. He told me that you weren't doing too well. I thought that talking to him would help me prepare myself for when I saw you, but it didn't. I was still shocked at your appearance. I walked over to the bed silently, trying my best not to startle you. You looked very pale, and your complexion was as white as snow, making your smooth, raven hair appear even darker than you remembered.
You were lying in the fetal position, facing the opposite wall, seeming to be trembling uncontrollably.
I dragged a blue, plastic chair over to the bedside and sat down. I swallowed, moving my head to the side slightly as I looked down at you. "Oh, Mitchie..."
You slowly turned to look at me. You blinked at me curiously a few times; it was almost as if you weren't sure who I was. Finally, you sat up and raised your eyebrows as me. Your lips spread into a wide smile. "Shane." You said quietly, even though I could sense that you were ecstatic to see me.
I smiled back at you softly in greeting, reaching over to you to give you a hug. "Hey, Mitch."
Your eyes lit up visibly as you studied me. "I can't believe you came. I didn't think you'd want to see me."
I looked at you in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? Of course I'd want to come see you, Mitchie."
You averted your eyes suddenly, playing absently with the hem of your hospital gown. "You left me. You said you hated me." You whispered quietly with tears in your eyes.
"I didn't mean that." I told you.
You brought your eyes back up to look at me for a second. "You said it."
I shook my head slowly, nibbling gently on my bottom lip. "Well, I should never have said that. I could never hate you. I should never have left you. I was just angry and I shouldn't have been. I'm sorry, Mitchie."
You eyed me doubtfully, before breaking eye contact with me, playing with the fabric of your gown again.
I was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say at first before admitting. "I saw your mother, Mitchie. She told me what was happening with you. How you were having a hard time lately."
You froze suddenly; your eyes turned cold as you glared at me. "I don't want to talk about my mother."
"Why not?" I asked you in concern.
"My mother hates me." You told me matter-of-factly. "She hates me."
"Your mother doesn't hate you, Mitchie." I told you gently, reaching for one of your hands.
"Yes, she does." You said, lifting your head up off of your pillow to look at me. Even more tears filled your eyes in an instant. "Yes, she does, Shane."
You suddenly shifted yourself over on the mattress and turned away from me. I heard you sniffle as you curled up again on your side, facing the wall. You buried your pale face into your pillow and knit your hands together tightly; so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You shut your eyes again slowly, as if you were trying to hold the tears in.
I frowned at you. I shook my head again, gently trying to convince you that you were wrong. "Mitchie, your mother loves you."
"Stop." You ordered softly, whimpering. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter. "Please, stop it.
But, I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to let it go. I knew that it wouldn't be good for you to think that any of the people that were closest to you hated you anymore than you already did. You needed to know that you weren't alone in this. I knew that you were scared, and you needed to feel like you were loved and supported. I touched your arm as gently as I could and waited for you to look back at me, but you never did.
"Mitchie, what could ever make you think that your mother hated you?"
"She sent me away." You whispered, whimpering your answer. Your shoulders began to shake even more violently than before and it was then that I realized that you were sobbing.
I frowned at you again, touching and stroking your back softly. "Oh, Mitchie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." I tried to explain to you, but you didn't seem to want to hear my apology.
"You don't understand." You suddenly declared. Your voice was clearly bitter at first, but then it deteriorated into the slightest whisper. "You don't understand. You don't understand."
I removed my hand instantly, unsure of what to say. "I want to understand, Mitchie. I'm sorry I haven't always been there for you. I don't like having to see you like this. I hate seeing you upset. I know you're having a hard time, but I'm here for you now, alright?
You moved away from me again and were able to climb out of the bed before I could stop you. I stood up out of the plastic chair as well just as you were steadying yourself on your own two feet. You laid both of your palms flat on the mattress as you waited to find your balance.
"Mitchie, get back into your bed." I instructed patiently and softly, reaching out to you.
You took a few shaky steps away from the bed, and wandered away from me. "I have to get out of here." You muttered.
"Mitchie." You repeated. "I promise, it's going to be okay. Just get back into bed."
You didn't seem to have heard me; but I could hear the panic that was clearly evident in your voice.
You had begun to pace now, your body stiff and your hands folded tightly in front of you, pressed up against your stomach. My eyes followed you around the room. "Mitchie?"
"Why are you doing this to me?" You asked me pitifully, looking over at me sadly as you passed me by for the second time.
My eyebrows knit together; I was confused by what you meant. I tensed slightly, meeting your eyes for just a brief moment. Your speed increased and you were beginning to become frantic. I could tell by the tone of your voice and the look you had in your chocolate brown eyes. I swallowed slowly, hesitating for a moment before I spoke again. "Calm down, Mitchie. It's alright. Just relax, okay?" I told you lightly, deciding that I should try to keep you as calm as I could.
You shook your head tearfully, looking back at me again. "No. Why are you doing this? Why won't you help me?"
I felt a batch of tears start to sting my eyes already as I watched you. For just a second, you thought about calling a nurse. You doubted your ability to be able to calm her for only a moment and you didn't want her to end up hurting herself in your presence.
"Mitchie, I'm sorry. I do want to help you, but I-"
I stopped myself when I thought that I heard a slight whimper escape your blush lips when you finally stopped, stationing yourself in the far right corner of the room. You then took a few extra steps, walking over to the wall and bowing your head. You pressed your forehead up against the coat of smooth ivory paint gently. I frowned, seeing the tears start to pool in your eyes. I knew that you were in pain and more than anything, I wanted to go to you, wrap you in my arms, and tell you that everything was going to be okay. I kept my distance, though, deciding that the best thing that I could do for you would be to wait until you calmed yourself down.
I stayed where I was, in the middle of the room, until I heard your breathing gradually begin to slow down. I took a small step forward and kept my eyes on you as I bit down hard on my lower lip. I stopped for just a moment when I realized just how you were standing in the corner. Your back was turned towards me, but I could see how rigid your body was and I saw the way that you were trembling. I laid a hand on your right shoulder gently, removing it immediately when you flinched away from me, your muscles tensing even more under my touch. I let out a heavy sigh at my failure and brought my arm back down to rest at my side.
"I can't stay here." You whimpered so softly that it was almost a whisper.
I turned my head towards you slightly, swallowing. "Mitchie..."
You stopped me by shaking your head slowly. "No. I don't belong here. I have to go. You have to help me get out of here."
I swallowed again heavily, sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "I'm sorry, Mitchie, but I can't help you do that. You're going to have to stay in here until the doctors think it'll be safe enough for you to go home."
"Please." You begged me, turning your body around away from the wall to face me. I felt a slight pain penetrate my heart when I saw tears slide down your cheeks.
"I'm sorry." I told you again. "You know that I can't. This is where you need to stay, Mitchie. You're only here to get better."
"There is nothing wrong with me." You protested, gritting your teeth as you stared at me. Your dark, ebony eyes grew wider when you spoke again. "I hate it here. Nobody tries to help me. They all hate me. They try to hurt me. I don't sleep at night. I'm scared, Shane. Please, I just want to go home."
I shook my head again and this time when I reached out to you, you didn't flinch. I slowly curled the fingers of my left hand around yours before speaking again. "Mitchie, I promise, nobody here is trying to hurt you. They're only trying to check on you to make sure that you don't hurt yourself again. They're trying to take care of you and to make sure that you're safe here. They want to help you get better, Mitchie. Your mother does, too. That's why she took you here; because she knew that she couldn't take care of you by herself anymore. But, she does love you and that's why she doesn't want you to feel like you have to hurt yourself again."
"She lies." You responded quickly. Your eyebrows knit together tightly as you gazed at me. "She lied to them. She just wanted to get rid of me. I never, ever tried to hurt myself. I would never do anything like that, Shane. You have to believe me. You know me. Why is she lying?"
I swallowed heavily, feeling tears burn the back of my own eyes. A large part of me wished that that it had been a lie, but I knew that it wasn't. Your mother had already told me why she had to bring her own daughter to the hospital. She had already told me how, a few days prior to today, you had taken a large bread knife and sliced your wrists open right in front of her in the middle of the kitchen. You had apparently known what you were doing; the cuts were deep and you had lost a lot of blood, even though the ambulance had gotten you to the hospital rather quickly. That was when your mother had insisted on you having a psychological evaluation. She knew, but was also terrified by the fact that there was the possibility of something being wrong with you, something that she would not be able to handle on her own.
"What did I do to make her not want me?" You questioned softly, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Nobody wants me. Everybody thinks I'm broken. Everybody thinks I'm suicidal. That's why I'm stuck here, isn't it?"
I was silent, not exactly sure what to say to you. You suddenly rolled your eyes absently, grumbling and examining your hands. "God, maybe I should just kill myself."
My eyes snapped up immediately to look at you. I became angry. "Hey, don't say that. I never want to here you say that again, Mitchie. I love you more than anything. You're very important to me and I don't know what I would do if I lost you."
You hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that; and I never meant to hurt my mother, Shane. Or you, or anyone. So, what did I do to everyone that was so wrong?"
I squeezed your hand tightly and made eye contact with you. "Nothing." I stated, keeping the tone of my voice firm and even so that you would know that I was being serious.
"It was my fault, wasn't it?" You responded quietly, removing your hand from my grasp. Your dark eyes shined slightly and you seemed to slip away from me. You seemed to grow more distant, as if you hadn't heard a word of what I had just said to you. "It was my fault. I hate myself. I must have said something or did something that made him think that-"
"No, Mitchie. This was never your fault." I scolded you harshly. I tried to mask it when I slowly let out an annoyed sigh and rolled my eyes slightly.
I wanted to be patient with you. I knew that I needed to be because you were fragile right now; but I had already told you the same thing numerous times in the past and you never seemed to be capable of believing me for more than a second. I loved you, but having to keep repeating myself was beginning to become aggravating.
"You don't know what I'm feeling, Shane. You don't care enough about me." You accused bitterly, your words seeping out of your mouth like venom. You leaned in closer to me, gritting your teeth again. "You don't care."
"Mitchie, that isn't true. I-"
"Yes, it is." You countered, sniffling.
"Listen to me, Mitchie." I told you, shaking you slightly. You were not looking at me, but I knew that I had your attention. I pressed on, trying my best to ignore the fact that you were flinching slightly at the tone of my voice as I spoke. "Because, I'm only going to tell you this one last time. This was not your fault. This was his fault. You trusted him and he took advantage of that. He manipulated you into doing what ever he wanted you to do. He hurt you, Mitchie, and now it's clear that he had been manipulating you into believing that what he did to you was all your fault; that you're the one to blame and that you deserved it. But, he was lying to you, Mitchie. You have to believe that and accept that if you're ever going to get past this."
You took one small step away from me and looked me straight in the eye. Your eyes suddenly turned colder as you glared at me. "Don't you dare. Don't you talk about him. Don't you say anything about him. I don't want to hear anything about him. Do you understand me?"
I cocked my head slightly as I studied you in shock. I had never expected, or meant, for you to become this upset as you clearly were in my presence. You grabbed hold of your ears and started to cry harder than I had ever seen you cry. You sank down to the floor, burying your face in your knees and beginning to visibly shake.
I felt an enormous baseball-sized lump materialize in my throat. I immediately joined you on the floor, sitting silently beside you. I made no other movement besides daring to reach over with one of my hands and gently stroking your back softly. Everything went silent between the two of us, save for your occasional whimpering or sniffling.
"Mitchie?" I whispered softly, leaning a bit closer to you and finally breaking the silence. I cursed at myself softly under my breath for making you cry again.
You shifted slightly and closed the gap between us, resting your head gently against my shoulder as you sobbed. I welcomed the contact, wrapping my arms loosely around you. I just wanted you to know that you could be safe with at least one person; that you could be safe with me. I ignored the tear stains that you were getting on my shirt. I was just glad that you felt like you could still trust me enough to be the one to initiate physical contact first.
"Please don't make me talk about him anymore." You pleaded with me brokenly, slightly agitated. You shut your eyes. "Please."
I nodded slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your silky, raven hair. Slowly, I grabbed your hands and dared to remove them from each side of your head. When you showed no signs of resistance, I held them tighter, careful not to brush up against the thick, snowy bandages that were wrapped securely around both of your wrists. "I promise, Mitchie. I promise not to make you do anything that you don't want to do, okay? Everything is going to be alright. You don't need to cry. I'm so sorry."
I felt you nod your head against my chest as you opened your eyes again. You lifted up your head and made eye contact with me as you tried to wipe the tears away from your already stained cheeks. Your eyes were puffy and scarlet. You parted your lips slightly, but quickly looked away from me, shifting your focus down to the glossy floor.
"Mitchie?" I repeated, my eyebrows puckering slightly.
You tilted your head slightly to one side and tried to wipe away the tears from your eyes. The corners of your mouth slowly turned up into a smile. You picked your head up again and looked at me. "You know, you're the first person to come visit me since I got here. Not even my mother, or Caitlyn, want to come see me."
"Mitchie, I'm sure that that isn't true. They do want to see you. They love you." I explained to you, scoffing softly. I was slightly confused by the sudden change of subject, but I knew that what you were claiming wasn't true. Your mother and Caitlyn came to visit you as much as they possibly could. I wasn't sure why they were lying, but I decided not to press the matter.
You shook your head, letting out a short laugh. "No. They don't want to see me, and I know why. They're afraid. They're afraid of what might happen while they're here. They're afraid that I might try to hurt myself while they're here, and they don't want to deal with that anymore. So...they just don't come. Nobody comes." You admitted in a small voice. You hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Except for you, Shane."
I exhaled gently through my nose and tried to smile at you. You smiled back at me and reached over to me to touch my cheek. You shifted your weight around and leaned back slightly, resting the back of your head against the side of your bed.
Silence came between us for a moment before you cleared your throat quietly and spoke again. "Maybe you do understand. Before, you were the only person that I ever thought could possibly understand me and what I was going through. You've never judged me and I appreciate that. You're different than everyone else, Shane. Now, they don't even want to begin to understand what I'm feeling. Everybody else thinks I'm crazy. They all treat me like I'm not worth knowing anymore. They think that I might try to hurt them."
You swallowed heavily, hesitating for the second time, as if you were afraid to hear the answer to the question that you were about to ask me. "Do you think I'm crazy, Shane?"
"No." I answered, apparently a little too quickly than you would have liked.
"I'm not crazy." You announced to me, your voice getting louder and a bit more angry. Your cheeks turned a bright red as you kept your eyes locked on me. "I'm not crazy. My mother and Caitlyn are lying. The doctors are lying. You can't listen to them, Shane. They're the crazy ones. Please, don't listen to them."
My eyebrows puckered together slightly again as I watched you sadly. I had never wanted to believe that the problem was this serious; but now, having seen you, I had begun to fear that it was. I squeezed your hands again, gazing at you worriedly, in an attempt to calm you again. "It's okay, Mitchie. Don't worry. I don't think you're crazy."
You looked over at me skeptically and made eye contact. "You...you don't?" You questioned, hiccuping.
I shook my head slowly. "No; and I swear to you that I won't listen to anybody but you, alright?" I promised you. I tried to muster another smile, but I couldn't. I swallowed thickly, feeling some more tears form in my eyes.
I watched you nod your head, but you were otherwise silent.
I frowned at you, reaching over for you again. "Oh, Mitchie. Come here."
You scooted yourself back across the floor and rested your head back on my shoulder. It was then I realized how extremely uncomfortable the floor beneath the two of us was, but at the moment, I didn't really care. All I cared about was you and how to make you feel better. I wrapped my arms around you again tightly and held you even closer than before.
I certainly was not a doctor, but even I could tell that it was obvious that you were not in a good place, both mentally and emotionally. Although you hated it here, every part of me believed that this was where you needed to be. I wished that you would be able to come home just as much as much as you did, but I knew that you were safer here than you would be at home. This was better for you. I didn't want to see you hurt again. The doctors and nurses here were keeping you safe, preventing you from being a danger to yourself.
I could never imagine witnessing you hurt yourself on purpose. I never thought that you were capable of doing anything like that. You were Mitchie. You just weren't like that. It just wasn't you. But the thick bandages around your wrists proved to me that if you were capable of it once, you were capable of it again. But, you had once liked yourself; and so did everybody else. You had a wonderful personality that you had taken away from you in a moment. It was like he had sucked all the life that you possessed out of you the second he hurt you.
The young woman that I had once loved and known inside and out was long gone. I had sensed that the second that I had walked into your room. Now, the girl that was currently curled up in a ball in my arms was somebody that I could barely recognize. You were terrified, over-emotional, and devastatingly timid. You were a lot more distant now than you were before. It was surprising how drastically a single person's personality could change in less than a year.
I didn't want to believe that you could have developed a mental illness, but when I heard the doctor say those words, I knew that there was no use denying it. I didn't want to keep lying to myself. But, you were still very young and it devastated me to know that all of the dreams that you had for the future had been snatched away from you and all of your talent was going to go to waste. I hated seeing you like this, repeatedly threatening suicide if you didn't get to leave the psych ward soon. It was clear that I was losing you, and I suspected and also feared that you had already lost yourself.
I wasn't the least bit surprised to feel to begin to tremble and saw you burst into tears yet again. My heart broke for you. I didn't have to ask you what was wrong. I already knew. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, holding you even closer to me, stroking your silky hair out of your eyes. "It's okay, Mitchie. It's going to be okay. I'm here."
"You won't leave me again, will you?" You asked me innocently, sniffling quietly.
I swallowed, hesitating when I felt your cool breath against my neck. Tears built up in my eyes again as I went to answer you, my voice breaking. "Of course not, Mitchie. I'm not leaving you. Leaving you was the stupidest thing I've ever done; because not only did I lose you, but I let that bastard hurt you and get away with it."
"You didn't do anything wrong either, Shane." You whispered.
I shook my head, disagreeing with you. "Yes, I did. I should have protected you. I love you and I shouldn't have let anybody hurt you. I'm here for you now Mitchie, alright? I'm here to help you get better. I'm here to take care of you. Everything will be okay. I'm right here. I won't leave."
I heard you hiccup again audibly. You sniffled loudly before tilting your head up again and looking up at me tearfully. "Do you promise?" You asked softly.
I made an effort to smile down at you, reaching over to grab one of your hands. I pressed a kiss gently into your palm before releasing it slowly. "I promise. I love you."
You smiled back up at me softly, seeming to have accepted my answer. You shut your eyes and rested your head back on my shoulder.
"I love you, too."
Author's Note: So, how did you like it? I know it's kind of a lame ending, but that's only because I wasn't sure how to end it. If you don't like it, that's alright. But if you do, please be kind enough to leave a review. I'd really appreciate it.