Where the Grass is Greener
Chapter Eight
Warrick sat at his table drinking a cup of coffee to calm his very unsettled nerves. What Sara said to him was on instant replay in his mind. Something in him told him that maybe it wasn't really love that they were feeling. Maybe it was because of the amount of sympathy he had for her. Then he thought that it was impossible for the line to be that thin. He loved Sara deeply. There was simply no mistake. He had fallen deeper and deeper in love with her; like Alice going down the rabbit hole.
He sighed and sank down in his chair. He wanted to go see her, but he didn't know how upset she really was at him at this point in time. He mood in the break room had changed swiftly, and by now, he figured that she was seething. Sara's anger was not to be contended with.
She would be coming by to pick up her personal items and clothes that she left for the week. He neatly placed her things into her bag and set it by the door. Hopefully it would help avoid talking to her.
She was right; they did need to spend some time apart. Neither of them were sure of what they really wanted out of their relationship anymore. They didn't think that they would work out.
A knock at the door shook Warrick of his thoughts and he got up and answered. Sara was standing there, looking forlorn and tired.
"Hey," she said solemnly.
"Hey," he said. "You're stuff's right here."
Sara walked past him and grabbed her bag. She looked at him sadly, apologetically and she motioned to walk out. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to him, her eyes aglow with rage.
"I'm very mad at you right now," she said, the tears brimming her eyes. "But you're right. I haven't been taking my meds. I can't keep running away from my problems," she said with an air of pride. "So I'm just going to stay here and talk out my problems instead of going back to my old self and bottling up everything inside."
Warrick looked at her, then he stepped aside to let her back in.
They sat across from each other at the table, drinking coffee.
"There's something that I need to tell you that I've been keeping to myself for years," she started.
Warrick was prepared for what ever she was about to tell him.
She sighed before starting. "I was sexually abused when I was nine years old."
Warrick didn't know what to think or say about that.
"My mom sent me into town to go get some groceries, and these two guys in a truck chased me, carried me into the woods, and each one took their turn on me."
Warrick could hear the shame that she felt in her voice. "Sara, why didn't you say anything to the police, to your parents?"
"I don't know," she said despondently. "I felt that it was my fault."
"Sweetie, you were only nine," Warrick explained. "It wasn't your fault."
"Well, here's the method to my madness," she started. She almost chuckled at the irony of her statement. "I had this blue cotton dress that I adored and I only wore dresses when I felt…pretty. I had a serious complex when I was nine, so when I wore a dress, that meant that I felt beautiful, ready to conquer the world.," she paused to wipe a tear. "So I associated my being violated with wearing the dress. I didn't wear dresses again for a long time. At least not until senior prom, and then years later when you took me out."
"Sara, you have to understand that it wasn't your fault," Warrick said firmly. "It wasn't because you wore the dress. Those guys were cowards and perverts."
Sara looked down at her hands. "I never told my parents. And I explained the dirt on my dress away, telling them that I got into a fight with another girl."
Warrick saw her tears falling down her cheeks nonstop, and he got up and hugged her. She cried harder as she held to him tightly.
"What can I do, Sara?" Warrick asked, cupping her wet cheeks in his hands. "Tell me. What can I do?"
Sara pulled away and looked at him. "I don't know. You can't do anything for me. See, this is why we can't be together. There's nothing you can do to help me, Warrick. I'm crazy, and I don't want to burden you with my problems."
"No Sara," he said. "You're not burdening me. I want to help you, I want to be with you. I don't care that you were abused. You're still beautiful and special to me. I love you."
Sara shook her head and pulled away, picking up her bag. "No, we can't be together. I'm sorry."
She left and closed the door. Warrick stood in the middle of his living room, hurt, and confused beyond anything he had ever been confused about before.
***
Sara didn't know what to do anymore. She felt helpless and empty. A feeling that she had forgotten over the last couple of months, and now it was coming back to her, hitting her full on, the pain even worse.
Sara entered her apartment and went into her bathroom. She emptied out the rest of her medication and popped them all like M&Ms. She turned on the water and drank some to wash them down. She looked at herself in the mirror.
I'm not going to go through this anymore. It hurts too much, she thought to herself.
Sara went to her bedroom, took off her clothing and got under the covers of her bed. She already felt the affects of the drugs taking over her body. Her eyes fell droopy, and she felt heavy. The truth was, she had been planning to go through with this for weeks. She loved Warrick dearly, but she didn't want to bring him into her realm of madness. She was sure that he would fall in love with someone else, and forget about her.
Her trouble with dealing caught up with her, and she could no longer withstand the pain.
Sara saw the room go black, and she opened her eyes a little, but then she gave into her body. She felt the life draining out of her, and her breaths becoming slower and harder to attain. She almost didn't exist anymore.
***
Warrick watched in horror as doctors and nurses tried to bring Sara back. She was semi-conscious and they had to pump her stomach.
"Sir, you can't be in here right now," a nurse said, gently pushing him out of the curtained area.
The process of pumping stomachs was a barbaric practice, but effective. Warrick had seen one performed before. There was a long tube placed down a patient's throat and it was supposed to make them gag and throw up whatever was in their system that shouldn't have been.
He could hear Sara heaving and whatever contents were in her stomach, emptied into a container that the tube was attached to. He knew that she was probably fighting and trying to figure out what was going on.
Warrick stood amongst the chaos of Desert Palm's ER, praying that Sara was going to make it.
It was strange how things had taken place: something told him to go after Sara. He didn't know whether it was because he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, or to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything drastic. Either way, if he had stayed at his apartment any longer, Sara would not have had a chance. The reality made him sick to his own stomach and he escaped to the nearest restroom.
Warrick slashed water on his face when he was finished vomiting. He closed his eyes and tried to will his anger and guilt away. The guilt he felt was eating him alive, like flames upon flesh. He shouldn't have mentioned anything about her meds. Maybe he should have had a little more faith in her. Or, maybe she meant to try and commit suicide again. He didn't know the true answers. All that mattered at the moment was that she was still alive.
He exited the restroom, and then he went to the waiting room.
After about another hour, a brawny, blond haired, fairly young doctor came up to him.
"Hi, I'm Doctor Wilson," he said cordially. "Are you Warrick Brown?"
"Yeah," Warrick answered.
"Miss Sidle is one very lucky woman," he said. "We were able to bring her back and we pumped her stomach to get out all the pills she swallowed. She's stable for now, and she's on her way up to a room. It's a good thing that you brought her in quickly. You can go see her before she goes up. Visiting hours will be over in five minutes on the upper floors, so now might be a good time to tell her good night."
"Thank you doctor," Warrick said, thanking God that Sara was doing well.
He went over to where her bed was at and he took her hand. She was a little awake, but she was out of it. Her eyes looked haunted and tired. Her reddish-brown coiffeur was plastered to her sweaty and pale face.
Their eyes met for a second, then she turned away, exhausted. Warrick leaned down and kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand firmly, letting her know that he would be there for her.
"Sir, we have to take her up now," a nurse said calmly. "I'm afraid we can't allow you to come up with her."
Warrick kissed her hand and then placed it back on the bed as the nurses rolled her away.
***
Sara woke up to a dimly lit room. She opened her eyes a little more, and she recognized where she was. She was at the hospital yet again. She sighed and closed her eyes again.
"Hey there," a familiar woman's voice said from her bedside.
Sara focused her vision in on Catherine, standing over her with a smile on her face.
"Hey," Sara said sleepily. "What happened?"
"Don't worry about that now Sara," Catherine said. "All that matters is that you're okay."
Sara furrowed her eyebrows and ran a hand over her face. She was so disoriented that her head hurt. She desperately wanted to know what happened to her. She could not remember at all, and that scared her.
"Hey Sar," Nick said, standing behind Catherine. "We just thought we'd stop by and keep you company until Warrick gets here."
"Oh," Sara said through her exhaustion. "God, I'm so tired. What happened?"
"Shh," Catherine said. "Just go to sleep right now."
Sara finally gave into her sleepiness and she fell instantly asleep.
Hours later, Sara woke up again, profoundly hungry and achy. The sun was up, and her curtains had been opened. She still felt overwhelmingly tired, but she wanted to know what happened to her. She hoped that she didn't have another break down. That was the last thing that she wanted and needed. Maybe she collapsed? She ran through all of the possibilities and it only made her even more curious as to how she winded back up at the hospital again. It was frustrating and it was causing her to lose her patience. She leaned over and pressed the button for a nurse.
After a few seconds, a nurse emerged.
"Yes?" She said sweetly.
"Nurse, can you tell me why I'm here?" Sara asked. "I don't remember how I got here."
The skinny, tall, middle aged nurse came over to the bed and checked Sara's vitals.
"Well, I must say that you are one very lucky gal," she said. "You took an overdose of your medication two days ago. You almost didn't make it. They had to pump your stomach."
Sara could not believe what she was hearing. "What? No, there must be some kind of mistake."
"No sweetheart," the nurse said. "You tried to kill yourself. You need to get help quickly. You were in here for a break down not even three months ago, and here you are again."
Sara just sighed. "Thank you, you can go now."
The nurse put Sara's vitals back in the slot and walked out of the room.
Sara sighed and turned away from the door. She stared at the blindingly white wall. Sara could not remember what happened days ago. She thought that she would. She tried her best to remember exactly what happened, but nothing was coming back to her. She supposed that it was for the best.
She suddenly felt the presence of another person in the room, and a finger pushing some strands of her hair out of her face. She knew that touch. She sighed and lay still.
"Hey," Warrick said to her. "How are you feeling?"
Sara did not want to talk to him. She had no desire to talk at all. She just wanted to retreat into her own thoughts and find out what was really bothering her, and to try an remember what had transpired two days ago. She knew that it was futile, but she had to try again.
She heard him sigh and he sat down in a chair next to her bed.
"Sara, please look at me," he begged.
"Just go away Warrick," she said quietly. "I just want to be by myself right now."
"I'm not leaving you Sara," he said. "I'll never leave you. I'll never leave you because I love you."
"Oh God Warrick, please don't do this," she wailed in tears.
"Sara, what are you so afraid of?" He asked.
"Why do you love me, Warrick? Why?" She asked, turning over to face him. "Why do you want to be with me? Don't you get it? I'm crazy okay? Mental illness isn't exactly something that just goes away because people love each other. It's something that's permanent, and it affects everyone," she exclaimed, sitting up. "I really do love you Warrick but-"
She was interrupted by a chaste kiss. She couldn't help but give in. She did love Warrick. And she was afraid; she was afraid that he would leave her because he couldn't handle her anymore, or that he would get tired of her all together. She didn't wan to pull him into her private hell. She could withstand seeing him happy with someone else than she could with them being together and then splitting up. But she kissed him with more passion and she thought about what she was losing…or, rather, giving up.
They pulled away and Sara's cheeks were soaked with her tears. She looked into Warrick's gray-blue eyes and saw nothing but hope and determination to let her know how much he loved her.
"Sara, please," he whispered quietly. "Give us some time…some time to work things out and talk," he said, holding her hand. "Please, tell me what you want, what you need…I'll do it for you. Tell me how to help you. I want to be with you. I love you because you're beautiful. I love everything about you."
Sara sniffled. "You really do love me?"
"Yes," he said with a smile. "Sara, just tell me what you want…what you want me to do."
Sara wiped her tears and looked at him. "Well, I'm kind of hungry. We can eat together and talk. That's a start."
Warrick kissed her hand. "Okay, I'll come back with something."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Twenty minutes later, Warrick came back with a salad for Sara, and a sandwich for himself.
"Thank you," she said. "Oh, this is so much better than the slop they feed us here."
"You're welcome," he said.
They ate in silence for a bit then Sara started to talk.
"I'm sorry for putting you through all of this," she said, the shame evident in her face. "This whole thing was my fault. I hate being so damn stubborn sometimes."
"Sara, you don't have to apologize," Warrick said. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have had a little more faith in you. I doubted that you might have actually been getting better."
"No, I wasn't," she admitted. "I did go off of my medication. I hadn't been taking it for two weeks. I'd drop them down the sink. I seriously thought that I was doing fine without the pills. The nurse told me that I tried to kill myself. Is it true? I don't remember anything. Is it true? Did I try and kill myself?"
She looked at Warrick with pleading eyes, wanting to know the truth. He sighed before starting.
"Yes, you did," he said. "If I had been a second later…"
"I would have died," she said, staring out into nothing, the stone cold realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. "Warrick, I don't want to leave you. I don't even remember why I did it. I don't want to ever scare you like that again. I love you too, and I do need help. Thank you for sticking with me this whole time."
"You're welcome," he said. "I promise you that I'll be with you no matter what happens."
Sara smiled.
***
A few days later, Sara was back at her apartment drinking some coffee while pondering the past week. She had put her friends through so much, and she felt horrible for it. The fact that she almost died that night sent off signals in her brain. She could not stray from her meds, for one, and two, she needed serious help. She could not just try and kill herself every time things got rough. She confided in Warrick, so they talked more often. She refused to go see a therapist. She did not want to be analyzed for an hour and then pay a ridiculous amount of money for listening to crap. She could save her money by talking to Warrick. He was a good listener.
The thought of not being on earth with the people that she loved was frightening. She wanted to be among them, and be happy.
Day was fading into light, and Sara smiled at the beauty of the second city that never sleeps.
***
Warrick was truly scared that night. Never had he felt his heart beat so hard. He thought that he would end up on a hospital bed next. Seeing Sara, unconscious, barely breathing, and nearly cold to the touch was the single most scariest moment of his life.
The thought of losing Sara was unsettling. He couldn't live with her, but he couldn't live without her. He loved her with a passion that he never felt before. Every time he saw her, he would falter at whatever he was doing because she was perfect. Everything about her was perfect; from her coffee brown hair, to her electric blue toe nails, she was perfect. Her body was perfect. She was everything he wanted in a woman.
They decided that it was best that they just see each other to talk for now. That was what they really needed. She told him that she still had things she wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him about her child hood, and her parents. She had a plethora of subjects to cover, and he was more than willing to listen.
Warrick entered his bedroom. He noticed Sara's hairbrush sitting on top of his dresser. He'd forgotten to pack it in her bag. It was a plain black hairbrush and a few strands of hair were stuck in it. He could smell her shampoo on the brush. She used Herbal Essences. Go figure. She was feminine in that non feminine kind of way. The way that said, 'even though I wear lipstick and perfume, doesn't mean I can't kick your ass'. Sara was pretty tough. He was sure that she could take him on any day.
Warrick slightly chuckled and set her brush down.
He wished that Sara was sitting in the bed at the moment, reading one of her Harlequins that she seemed to like so much. She told him that she read them when she didn't want to read anything deep and wonderful. He was surprised to find her secret stash at her apartment.
She looked beautiful when she was getting into her reading. Her facial expressions would change with the scenes and he would chuckle at the faces she made at scandal. She devoured books in a day or two. It was amazing how much she read.
There was a little bit of Sara everywhere in his apartment, and he hoped that one day, he wouldn't have to wish so hard.
