Chapter 10:
After about a month I had completely regained my physical strength and was moved to the psychiatric ward. The psychiatric ward was everything I had imagined it to be. Every day I talked to the same psychiatrist. She was a woman in her late forties, with curly brown hair and a very plain looking face. We would talk about the nightmares that had led me to slit my wrists and the nightmares that I was still having and of course about my relationship with Andrew.
Over the months I started to remember what happened. I could see the breakup now and the months that had led up to my mental collapse. My mother had been polite when she had used the term “drinking a lot”. Gorging would have been more appropriate. I had shut everyone out, telling them that they didn’t understand that they didn’t care. I had become a monster. I had let my pain consume me to the point of affecting all of my other relationships with people.
The more I figured out about what had passed, the more my psychiatrist was pleased. She told me that I was “coming along nicely and that I would be released “soon”. I would just nod and try to look enthusiastic. How would I ever piece back together this broken life?
It turned out that “soon” finally had turned into “today”. My family had been kind enough to keep up my household while I was being hospitalized. My house, my possessions, and my life waited for me when I got home. I wondered what kind of life I would really be suitable for. While I had come to grips with the fact that my whole adventure had been in my head and I was diligently working towards getting over Andrew and the years that we had been together, I was still shaken. I had nightmares every night almost. I would wake up screaming and depressed. The scene was always the same. I would be chasing after Andrew in the darkness, his frightened face being pulled further and further away until he was gone. There would always be the same maniacal feminine laugher. It never ceased to terrify me, to bring forth the helpless sadness that I had felt the first time I had the dream. I was under a near constant cloud of sadness, even though the doctor had placed me on Zoloft. I kept up appearances when the doctor was around though. No amount of staying in the hospital was going to erase that my life had changed and the things that were the most important to me had been stripped from it.
I stared out the window of my room blankly into the sky, remembering the day that Andrew had left. It was so clear to me now, as if I was standing right there looking in on it. I had sat on the bed helplessly as he had started to pack his things.
“Please don’t do this,” I had sobbed, feeling desperate and helpless. He had just sighed and continued to pack his things. I tried again, “I can change. I can say whatever you want, do whatever you want. I love you please don’t do this to us. Don’t you care about me?”
He stopped and looked at me with an expression that said he wanted to comfort me, but that it might cause him to lose his resolve. “You know I care about you. I will always care about you. Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t healthy Torey. Normal people don’t have a relationship like we do. Normal people don’t fight like we do. You need to stop thinking like we are all there ever was or ever will be.”
I had been shattered. I could see in his eyes that there would be no changing his mind. He moved to his side of the closet and started grabbing down hangers. I walked in after him and stood in front of him, staring up with my pleading eyes. “How long have you not been in love with me? How long have you been feeling this way? When was it that you decided you were leaving and didn’t even feel the need to discuss it with me?”
His face was sympathetic and then angry and cruel. “You never discussed it with me when you decided to leave. You didn’t care when I was crying.” It was as if a knife had ripped through my heart.
“I did so care. I talked to you every time you called, even when you had threatened to kill yourself. I hugged you, I was there for you, so don’t give me that shit! You never forgave me for anything did you? Why can’t you see? Why can’t you see that I am the best thing that ever happened to you?” I sobbed as I moved myself back into the corner of the closet, twisting his clothes in my hands, falling to pieces.
His face had become calm and serene and tears had formed in his eyes, but they weren’t falling. “I don’t have to be with you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me.” I remembered how those words had pounded the nail into the coffin for me. How could I argue with that? What else could I say? I had turned to walk away, trying to escape down the hallway so I could go somewhere private to lose my mind.
“Torey wait,” he had called.
I had turned around to face him as he stared at me, his face caught up in a twist of different emotions. I had walked back over to him, even though I knew that I was just walking towards further destruction. “What do you want? What do you want from me, “I whimpered pathetically.
“You have to know it would have never worked,” he replied staring down in my eyes. I saw the destruction of a decade there, of all of the years we had spent. The tone of his voice gave up the fact that he was still trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me.
“I am sorry, but I don’t agree. This is my life Andrew. You are my life,” I had walked away and that time he hadn’t tried to stop me. I had walked down to the beach and cried my eyes out that day. By the time I had got home he was gone and I never heard from him again.
My mother walked into the hospital room, her face all aglow, wrecking my reverie. I turned away from the window and forced a smile. It was spring now. She was dressed in a girlish sundress and flip flops. If there was one thing I looked forward to, it was to get to the beach and soak up the sun with sound of the waves as the background music to my relaxation. She handed me some of my clothes from home. I put on my favorite pair of blue jeans and a black tank top. I walked into the bathroom to look myself over. I looked a little tired there were small dark circles under my eyes, but other than that, I looked well. I ran my hands through my hair a few times and then walked back out into the bedroom.
“Are you ready to go?” my mother beamed with a brilliant smile.
I grinned back at her and replied with an enthusiastic “Yes!” I found it was better to keep up a good show for her. I did not want her to worry. While I was not happy, I didn’t feel any sudden urges to hunt down sharp objects to hurt myself with. Besides, I would get past all of this someday and the smiles would not be fake anymore.
We walked out of the small room that had held me over the past few months, which consisted only of a twin bed, a nightstand topped with flowers my father had sent, and a bathroom. We walked out into the hospital hallway, sterile white surrounding us on all sides. It was overwhelming to my eyes when I had first arrived, but I had grown accustomed to it.
When we arrived at the customer service desk, the nurse smiled at me, her chocolate skin crinkling around her ebony eyes that sparkled with best wishes and kindness. “Checking out?” she asked in her soft southern voice.
My mother and I looked at each other and smiled and said “yes” simultaneously.
She handed me a bag that had my black satin house coat in it. That had been the only possession that I had on me when I was admitted. She wished me luck and I thanked her as my mother and I began to walk away.
I walked out of the hospital into the urban jungle of downtown. The sounds of the cars passing were a bit overwhelming at first, but I quickly became accustomed. The buildings of cement and brick towered around me, looking like industrial giants, waiting to crush the people below like ants. The sun was shining brightly and it was so warm. The sky was a perfect robin’s egg blue. The humidity was low and I thought to myself that I couldn’t have asked for a nicer day to be released.
We jumped into my mother’s black Grand Prix. The seats were warm and I snuggled up against the seat. Upon starting the car, the songs from my favorite CD spilled out of the stereo speakers. A huge grin came to my face and I looked over at my mother to flash her a smile of true appreciation.
&nbs
p; The drive home was serene. I watched all of the familiar buildings and roads pass me by. People bustled in and out of grocery stores, they waited in lines in their cars in drive throughs, they commuted home from work, talking on cell phones and making plans for dinner or an evening out. Life had continued while I was away and I was glad to see that nothing had changed.
When we got down to the beach my heart sang. The palm trees seemed to wave hi to me as we drove past them. For the first time it really dawned on me that I was going home. I rolled down my window to breathe in the salty air. I sighed in relief and relaxed back against my seat.
We pulled up into my driveway and parked. I stared at the house with its grey stucco and charcoal roof, my red Honda still sat in the same place in the car port, nothing had changed. There was something comforting in that. I felt something cold and metallic slip into my hand. I looked over to my mother and then down at my hand. I smiled as I saw that my house keys and my car keys were now in my possession.
We got out of the car and walked up to the house. I opened the door and nostalgia washed over me. My furniture was in the same place that I had left it. I traced the old familiar paisley designs on my couch with my eyes. I looked at the side tables and notice that the pictures of Andrew and I that I had previously had scattered around the house, seemed to have been moved. I guessed that my family had decided to be extra cautious, not wanting me to have to come home just to have my wounds reopened. I was grateful. The carpet had been replaced. This somewhat baffled me.
“Mom, why is the carpet different?”
She frowned and hesitated as I stared at her patiently awaiting her answer. “Well honey, there was so much blood. We didn’t want you to have to come home and see that.”
“Oh,” I replied, my face darkening. I didn’t deserve such wonderful treatment. After all, I had tried to leave all of them. I had hurt them. I was selfish enough to try to stop my pain at the cost of devastating them, and yet they loved me, and yet they helped me. I was truly touched.
I walked around the house, taking inventory in my mind. Everything was pretty much the same with a few minor differences. All of my laundry had been cleaned. When I looked in the closet, my possessions now took up both sides. It was much easier to look at. It no longer served as a reminder that something was missing. My bed had been made for me and much to my relief; the mirror in the bathroom had been replaced.
After we had taken the entire tour I looked at my mother and smiled. “Thank you so much for all of your help. I really appreciate it. Look, I think I am going to grab a nice hot shower. Why don’t you run to the barbeque place down the street and pick us up some lunch. Maybe we can go walk down the boardwalk afterward. I am dying to see the beach. You can take the house keys with you so you can get back in if I am still in the shower when you get back.” I handed her they house keys. She looked at me skeptically, uncertain whether she should leave me alone or not no doubt.
Finally her expression lightened. “Ok sweetie. I will be back soon.” We hugged and then she left.
I grabbed a towel from the linen closet and headed to the bathroom. Thoughts of what had taken place the last time I had stood in the room flashed through my mind. I could hear my screams and the sound of shattering glass. I looked at myself in the mirror and then shook off the sensation. Now was not the time to start being morbid.
I undressed and turned on the water. When it ran hot, I switched it to the shower setting and stepped into the tub. The water ran over my skin and I could feel all of what I had been through being rinsed from me .I thought of my future and starting over. I thought of happy things like a family, a new love, getting further on in my career. Then I thought of the beach and the sun. I couldn’t wait to see it. I knew I would feel one hundred percent better.
As I started to shampoo my hair, I heard the bathroom door open. “That was quick,” I said, giggling slightly. “I will be out in a few minutes ok?”
I listened, but there was no reply. I rinsed the soap out of my hair and then peaked out of the shower curtain. The bathroom was empty. The door stood open. A chill ran down my spine. I shut off the water and grabbed my towel. I dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around me as I exited the bathroom.
“Mom?” I called out. No reply came. I walked through each individual room, but the house was empty. The front door was still locked. I told myself to remain calm. Perhaps the air conditioning had caused a draft and I hadn’t closed the door completely, causing it to blow open.
I walked over to the dresser and pulled out my black and baby blue bikini. I put it on and then walked to the closet to retrieve my baby blue sun dress. No sooner than when I had I pulled it over my head there was a loud crash that came from the bathroom.
My pulse raced. It became very clear that I was no longer alone in the house. I ran over to my nightstand, pulled out the top drawer, and grabbed the sewing scissors that I kept in it out. I gripped them in my hand, completely prepared to use them as a weapon if necessary. I walked to the bathroom and lightly pushed open the door. There was shattered glass and blood covering every inch of the bathroom floor. I could not move. What had happened? Where did all the blood come from?
Suddenly, pain started to spread across the soles of my feet. I stumbled over to the bed and sat down to look them over. They were torn up, as if I had walked over a bed of broken glass. A trail of blood was smeared across the new carpet from the bathroom to the bed. It made no sense! I hadn’t stepped on any glass.
A stinging sensation moved across my wrists and forearms. A sick ripping noise reached my ears and I began to scream as the scars from where I had slit my wrists began to peel open. Blood started to pour from the wounds, staining everything around me. I doubled over and got sick, the sight of blood and the panic seizing my senses.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING?!” I screamed.
I started to sob hysterically as I ran to the living room to get my cell phone. I needed to call my mother and tell her what was happening. Upon entering the room I shook my head in disbelief. All of the photos that had been put away before I arrived at home had been put back in their original spots. I ran over to the breakfast table and grabbed my phone and dialed my mother’s cell number. Blood poured over the entire surface of the phone and made splashy patterns on the carpet below me. The call failed and when I looked at the blood-stained screen of my phone, it showed there being no service in the area. I ran back to the linen closet and grabbed two towels, screaming again as I tied them tightly around my wrists. I ran back to the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a piece of note paper off of the magnetized pad on the fridge and walked briskly back over to the breakfast table and wrote to the best of my ability, “I did not do this.”
The room was becoming dimmer and my head spun. It felt as though the walls were caving in on me. I rested my forehead on the cool surface of the breakfast table, praying that my mother would walk in soon and save me. My heartbeat was slowing and my ears had begun to ring. The blackness took over everything and claimed me as its own once again.