I'm not Stephenie Meyer
I relished in the blackness for an insurmountable amount of time. Eventually, my limbs feel like Jelly and the light is barely starting to seep through again. I try to open my eyes, but I can't. I try to speak, but I can't. That's when I realize that there is a tube invading my throat. Confusion and soreness are the only two things I can feel.
"She's starting to wake up. I'll go get the nurse." Someone said in an unfamiliar voice. It must be a doctor of some sort. I must be in a hospital, which means I didn't die. At this point I'm entirely unsure if that's what I wanted or not. Am I relieved to be in a hospital, or am I disappointed? For a brief moment hope flickers through my mind as it's quickly silenced by turmoil I try to raise my hands to maybe pull this annoying tube out of my throat. But I'm stuck. Restraints? My eyelids are flickering involuntarily. I don't know how I survived that fall, and mostly, I still don't know if I'm happy or sad about it. Everything about that day was a blur, and I remembered it only as one would remember a movie.
"Bella? Oh, Bella!" I could hear my dad's voice cry. I still can't respond. Guilt burns through me like a cigarette on a cheap sofa. I knew my father would be anguished by my actions, but never had I imagined I would have to be around to witness it. My whole body is sore. I can't really tell if it's because of jumping off of a cliff, or if it's because of what Sam did to me. Humiliation fills me to the brim, and I wonder if my father knows about what happened with Sam. He can never know, not in my whole life. If I can protect him from one thing it would be that one morsel of knowledge that I knew would destroy him. I can feel someone approaching me and I'm nervous about my inability to move or open my eyes for more that a few moments. I feel safer, knowing my father is in the room. Suddenly the tube in my throat is being yanked out. "Cough," an authoritative but sweet voice commands. My eyes fly open and I gasp to breath on my own for the first time in and immeasurable amount of time. My eyes take in the light right over my head and I forced them to close tightly.
The room fills with deafening silence and I know everyone is waiting for the right words to be spoken by someone. I slowly mustered up the courage to open my eyes again, cautiously as to let them adjust to the painful light. I can hear my father take in a shaky breath laced with anxiety, relief, pain. I can't look at him. "How long have I been out?" I ask to the ceiling, still too cowardly to face my small audience.
"Two days." A voice responds. I turn my head slightly to the left. My eyes meet with a dark skinned middle aged man. He wore a crooked tie, and a friendly smile. It made me uneasy. "What happened?" I asked, hoping to gain some information on what is already known. "Why don't you tell us what you remember, and we will try to fill in the rest." The doctor prompted me. He wasn't giving me the chance to be evasive and I had a sickening feeling in my stomach that he was on to my tactic.
"Last thing I remember was falling into the water. Who got me out? How did they find me?" I left out as much as I could. Finally able to look at my father, I could see he looked exhausted. His hair greasy, eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkles, and the whisper of an unkempt beard attempting to make its way to the surface. "Jake saw your truck drive up to the top of that cliff, he said you seemed upset when you left. He decided to follow you up there, and check on you," he paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and his emotions "and he found the note in your truck. That boy dove in right after you. Why on God's green Earth would you do this, Bella?!" He finally asked exasperated. "Dad, I can't...I don't know." I stumbled to find the right words. I couldn't tell him about what happened on the reservation. It was just the straw the broke the camel's back on top of years of misfortune and loss.
"Sam came to see you." My dad mentioned, changing the subject. Typical Charlie Swan, afraid of emotion. His phobia of facing things head on would benefit me in this conversation, and I was appreciative. However, the mention of his name ripped a hole in my chest wide open. I did my best not to let it reach my face. I couldn't let my dad suspect anything, if Sam came by then my dad obviously didn't know. I guess it isn't routine to run a rape kit on suicide cases. I thought to myself with disgust.
"If he comes back, tell him to go away. He an I are over." I said curtly, knowing I wouldn't get much argument from my dad. I couldn't say too much without getting worked up, and my dad wouldn't ask. "He brought you some flowers," Charlie began, and I cut him off. "Throw. Them. Away." I managed to squeak out through gritted teeth. I could feel rage bubbling up within me, and all I wanted was a hot shower to remove his filth.
I wanted to run far away, but I noticed the restraints again. Feeling held down filled me with unadulterated fear. "And get these off of me!" I wailed, shaking them violently hoping for some slash. The friction burned at my wrists and if I shut my eyes I could swear they were his hands again. "Bella," a mock soothing voice cooed from the doctor's mouth. "We need to explain a few things to you, you need to try to relax." he pleaded.
"Who the hell are you, anyway!" I shouted, looking for my father to back me up. In a complete fury that he wasn't helping me get out of these straps. I felt so betrayed. In that moment I knew that I deeply regretted my miraculous recovery from my jump.
"Bella, honey. This is Dr. Grenady. He's the head of the psychiatric ward. He's here to help you." My father tells me, and there's a strange quality to his voice that I can't place.
"Head of the what?" I asked in a panic. My luck was unbelievable. And I was unashamed of my self-pity. "Bella, it's a state requirement that when someone comes into the hospital after a suicide attempt they be kept for 72 hours minimum, or until they aren't an immediate threat to themselves or others," Dr. Grenady explains. Tears well up in my eyes and flow down my cheeks, the embarrassment and vulnerability I felt as a result of my inability to cover myself was torturous. "Bella, this could be a good thing for you. I know you never really dealt with Tanya-" My dad tried to reason. "Don't mention her to me ever again!" I shouted. My father, the king of avoiding problems was going to commit me and use the excuse that I need to come to terms with the skeletons in my closet?
"Bella, I love you, I refuse to lose you like this." My father said firmly, and the hole in my chest throbbed in sync with my heartbeat that I had willed to stop just a few fateful days ago.
"Bella, we're going to take you back now. You will be meeting with a therapist alongside having group therapy, and the experience should only be beneficial for you." The doctor said formally. It took all I had not to spit at him, but I knew I'd have to fake to get out in the minimum time frame. "Mr. Swan, it's probably best if you let us take it from here." Dr. Grenady said to my Dad as a fresh wave of panic washed over me. He couldn't leave me all alone tied down next to some strange man. "Dad!" I shouted, "Don't leave me here, please. I promise I will go to therapy or do whatever you want just don't leave me here!" A tear escaped his eye, trickling down to trace the hardened features of his face. "I love you Bella, trust that I'm only doing this because I want you to get better." He said harshly. He put his hand on my shoulder briefly and I tried to plead with his silently one last time, before he turned, and walked out of the room.
"I'm going to undo the restraints now, Miss Swan." Dr. Grenady spoke calmly to me, yet it did little to settle my nerves. "You're going to have to remain calm while we admit you to your room. We want this to be as painless as possible. This is solely for your benefit." He reasoned with me and I tried my hardest not to bolt out of the door. My wrists relished in the cool air as he undid the uncomfortable straps. He helped me into a wheelchair, I didn't appreciate his touch or the pain that racked my entire body as I was forced to move for the first time.
I managed to keep my breathing under control as we took the trip down a few hallways into the ward. "Very good, Bella. Everything is going to be alright." he coaxed. It managed to comfort me for a fraction of a second. I could feel my heart speeding up as we grew closer to my destination. It seemed to be taking a painstakingly long time. As soon as we came into the hall where the rooms were, unbridled anxiety came over me. My breathing became erratic and I felt like I might die.
Dr. Grenady started to turn into my room and I instinctively shot out of my wheelchair. "NO!" I shouted. The surrounding nurses were quick to respond. I was surrounded as at least three pairs of hands were gripping me in an instant. The restraint caused me to flashback to Sam as another wave of anxiety came over my body. I tried my hardest to thrash against them and fight, but just like a couple of days ago, I was not strong enough. "I won't do it again I promise, I don't need to be here please don't make me stay here. PLEASE!" I begged.
I was beginning to gather a bit of an audience. I tried to zone out again, just like I had while I was being attacked. I caught a man staring at me from the other end of the hallway. He was trying to keep the shock off his face, but I saw right through him. His green eyes blazing, wondering what kind of place he had been brought to, just like me. We're all crazy I thought. Just as I began to notice the real turmoil behind this handsome stranger's pensive eyes, I felt a slight stinging sensation in my arm and I was in the blackness yet again.
I woke up some hours later in a bleak, white room. I wasn't restrained for once, thankfully. I made my way to the door and found that I couldn't open it. I knocked lightly on it and a few moments later a nurse walked in, followed by a different doctor than the one I had met earlier. "I'm Dr. Cope." She smiled as she took a seat next to me and handed me a glass of much needed water. "How are you feeling this morning, I know yesterday was really rough on you. It won't be held against you, and I want you to know it's completely normal." She said, trying to gain my trust. "I'll be working with your during your stay here. We have a group therapy session in a couple of hours if you would like to start there. If not, we can bypass that for the day and you can wait until our individual session later on if you'd prefer." She explained.
"I'd like to start as soon as possible, bypassing nothing." I said more harshly than I had intended. I knew if I wanted to get out of here I was going to have to play the game. Pretend therapy was a real science and that I was all better. I scoffed internally, not realizing what I even had to look forward to after getting out other than my own bed. "I think that's great." She smiled broadly. Oh, she was good.
The couple of hours before the group session that I was dreading took forever. I was allowed to shower finally, with a nurse watching of course. The shower was still a relief, and softened the unrelenting pain both inside and outside. I felt like I had chipped away at the film Sam left all over my entire body. I wanted to grab something and scrub my whole body raw and bloody, but it would be too difficult while I was being watched like a hawk.
I took some pills, without asking what they were. Just gotta play the game I repeated to myself. I saw the circle of chairs being arranged in the large front room while they were filled with several people. I felt my stomach drop and the familiar burning sensation in my chest of where he had left a hole in me. I walked over with my head down, not wanted to see if anyone was paying attention to the newcomer. I grabbed for the back of an empty chair as it was quickly swiped from my grasp.
"I apologize, here, you take it." A deep voice rang out, I looked up to see the man from the hallway the previous day. I felt myself turn crimson, unable to speak at all. "No, that's alright." I managed to muster out before taking a chair clear across the circle from him. His stare at me was unrelenting as I shifted uncomfortably and tried to hide myself behind my mess of hair. I couldn't read his face. Was he angry with me, sad because of his own life. The only thing I could really tell from his face was that he was absolutely beautiful, and beautiful men were dangerous.
A/N: Please review! I am hoping to put a new chapter out on Saturday, Sunday at the latest. Thanks for reading. Peace and Love
-Aces