She lifts her knees, clinging to me with her thighs and heels digging into my calves. I can tell she's getting close by how sharply she claws at my back and how her breathing starts to hitch. I kiss her as she starts to come, bearing down sotightaround me like she never wants me to leave.
I never want to leave her, either. I kiss her cheek and her jaw and down to the fluttering pulse in her neck, holding her tightly with my arms wrapped around her as I lose myself to the tight, wet clench of her body. I can hear myself babbling more, promising her that I won't leave her, that she's safe, that I'm going to take care of her, until my brain whites out and I come inside her, as deep as I can.
She sighs, petting my sweaty hair as I kiss her and hold her close. Exhaustion comes for both of us swiftly, rendering her limp in my arms, our heartbeats slowing and our breathing returning to normal.
She falls asleep with her head on my shoulder. I spare one look at her soft, young face, before I kiss her forehead and turn off the light, and let sleep take me under as well.
Whatever happens tomorrow, I know she'll be okay, because I'm going to make sure she's okay. I'll make sure she gets the help she needs, and that nothing ever hurts her again. Not even herself.
I don't say as much, not wanting to wake her, but from the way she clings to me and sighs, a slight smile gracing her face while she slumbers, I want to think that she knows the truth of it as well. That she trusts me to see her through this dark tunnel, and safely to the other side.
I stay awake all night, wanting to make the most of every moment I have with her before I take her to the hospital. I know I’m doing the right thing in convincing her to go.
I just hope she’s strong enough to get through this.
CHAPTER22
CHLOE
It’s been a week since they released me from the psych ward. I’m far from better, but I’m at least not a danger to myself anymore. Or anyone else for that matter.
Most days, I understand that Jake isn’t here anymore. I’m almost functional, but then just when I think I have a grip on things, I have these little breaks where Jake is alive and here with me. They don’t last long—usually no more than a few seconds, but it’s scary. Not only because it makes me doubt myself but because for those few moments, I feel loved and comforted, only to have it ripped away from me when reality sets back in.
It feels like I’ve lost him all over again.
My mind feels frazzled and weak, like I don’t know what to think. My thoughts and memories all meld into one leaving me confused and vulnerable. I’m still not sure what happened out there. The only comfort I have is knowing Marissa’s blood wasn’t on me at all. The blood on my hands was from the cut on my head, which needed sixteen stitches to help it heal. There is evidence Marissa lost her footing and slipped, but how can I know that for sure? Will I ever know?
They gave me medication to help me sleep, but I don’t take it. I know I need help but acknowledging that and truly opening myself up to accept help are two completely different things.
“Clo?”
Sam places his hand over mine, making me jump. His touch is warm and comforting, a stark comparison to my own cold, lifeless hands. That pretty much sums up how the rest of me feels too. Ever since that night. Hell, I’ve felt that way ever since I can remember. Only in my earliest childhood memories do I remember feeling anything even close to being happy. Before everything went wrong.
“I’m worried about you,” he admits, his eyes heavy with worry. “You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, I’m not sure you’ve even left your bed since you’ve been home from the hospital. I just want you to feel like you again. I think you need more help.”
Feel like me? That’s a laugh. I’m not even sure what that is anymore.
“I just left the psych ward.” I whisper the words, the rawness of them sticking in my throat. “Where else would I go?”
I couldn’t handle going back to where I was before. There are too many memories there, too many reminders of the past and everything that has led me to this point. How can I trust anyone again after what Marissa put me through? How can I trust myself after what I did? I shiver, my stomach clenching into familiar knots as anxiety begins to take over me. I’ve never felt so scared and alone in my whole life.
“Isaac knows a place that’ll take you. It’s supposed to be the best in the city, nothing like the hospital, and nothing like where you were last time. This place is one of the best in the country. You’ll be safe there, Chloe. I promise.”
“Okay,” I find myself agreeing.
Sam expels a loud sigh and puts his arms around me, pulling me into his lap. As his lips brush over mine, I melt into his arms, feeling safe and protected from the world. I have no idea what we are to each other, or what the future holds for us, but I’m sure he won’t let anything happen to me. Not only that, I feel like I owe it to Sam to try and fix myself after everything I’ve put him through.
I owe it to myself too.
* * *
The staff are great here,supportive and encouraging, and Sam was right, it is a nice place.
It’s on the outskirts of the city, but you wouldn’t know it, given all the trees and shrubs surrounding the place and all the hills in the distance. I feel like I could sit outside and stare off into the distance for hours if they’d let me. Sometimes they do, but most of the time I’m too busy for that.
Every day for the past two weeks I’ve sat through two different kinds of therapy. First is group, where I sit in a circle with a bunch of other people and we talk about our feelings and shit. I listen to their stories and as much as I hate to admit it, I get frightened. Some of these people have such little grip on reality, it’s scary. Is this how people see me? Am I crazy too?
The therapy helps me understand what’s happened to me and how sometimes it’s easier for my mind to cope by slipping back to a time where I felt safe.