Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
A scream tore from my throat. I was drenched in sweat, and it was making my clothes stick to my body in the most disgusting way. I hadn’t even realized I had fallen asleep. I guessed I finally got tired enough. Normally when this date started rolling around, I avoided sleeping as much as possible.
The nightmares and flashbacks always plagued me the worst this time of year.
I picked up my phone, realizing I had actually only left the dinner table thirty minutes ago.
And yet, that fast, I’d had a nightmare.
I was spiraling, and it was a terrifying, blood-chilling fall.
Hot tears slid down my cheeks. Not only had my dad’s birthday just passed, but now the anniversary of my miscarriage was coming—and the day I caught Randall and Heather fucking.
I wanted to scream at the world. How could this place be so fucking cruel? Why so much tragedy in such close proximity to each other?
How could I have been so lost in my fucking misery that I decided to take all of my antidepressants, which caused me to miscarry in the first place?
I couldn’t even look at my nephew and niece without feeling pain slicing through my heart, cutting me open. I didn’t even trust myself around them. Julian, Axel, Meghan–they all encouraged me to, but I just couldn’t.
I didn’t even protect my own child inside of me while I was pregnant. How was I meant to be trusted around Holden and Lana?
I couldn’t.
I just wanted this fucking pain to go away. I needed some kind of relief.
But there was no relief. No real, true relief from the pain.
You can always cut again.
I hadn’t done that since Julian had found me slicing open my thighs. I had promised him I never would again.
But God, the idea was so tempting.
Would it be possible to feel better? One small cut wouldn’t hurt, right?
I sobbed, hating that I was so fucked up that I was actually contemplating cutting myself again, contemplating breaking a promise to Julian, who was basically my brother. He’d helped save me from myself numerous times.
Just one time.
“No!” I screeched, reaching up to tug at my hair.
My door burst open. Julian stood in the doorway. I sobbed, curling in on myself.
“Julian, help me,” I cried.
Dr. Gresham did something he doesn’t normally do that night.
He made a house call.
My bottom lip trembled as I stared up at him. “I’m–there’s voices,” I choked out. There had never been voices before, and it was terrifying.
He frowned. “What are these voices asking you to do, Ally?” he asked me, his voice kind–not a hint of judgment lingering in his words.
I looked up at Julian and squeezed my eyes shut, terrified to say it out loud. I couldn’t let him know I was a hair's breadth away from breaking the most important promise to him.
“I can’t,” I whimpered.
“Can we have the room to ourselves?” Dr. Gresham asked my family.
Once we were alone in the living room, Dr. Gresham knelt in front of me. “It’s just you and I in the room, Ally,” Dr. Gresham soothed. “This is a judgment free zone. No anger from anyone, no lashing out. It’s just you and me. Tell me what the voices are saying.”
“They want me to cut again,” I told him, my voice breaking. Tears slid down my face. “I don’t want to,” I whimpered. “I want the voices to go away.”
“I’m going to bring you to the center for a couple of nights,” he told me gently. I sobbed. I didn’t want to go back. I was always so alone there with nothing but my dark thoughts to occupy my time. “Just so you can be monitored, okay? And we’re going to change up your medications. I want to do a further evaluation, but I’m pretty sure you have schizophrenia.”
“Another disorder?” I asked him. I resisted the urge to wail. Instead, I just sobbed, my chest caving in. “God, I’m so fucked up.”
“No,” Dr. Gresham said sternly, shaking his head. “You’re a strong, young woman who just happens to have it a little rougher than other women your age, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He stood up. “I’m going to go get Axel really quick. Stay here.”
I watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back with Axel in tow. I started crying harder. I’d failed my family again. I couldn’t even stay somewhat sane for them.
“I need to take her to the center for a couple of nights,” Dr. Gresham informed him. “She’s hearing voices that are telling her to self-harm again.” Axel sat beside me on the couch and drew me into his arms. “I just want to keep her supervised until I can get her started on medication, but I’ll need to do a further evaluation before I start her on anything new.”