White walls, white floors, white sheets, white lab coats, everything was barren. It was blinding. Holland moved her head to try and see the sky through the slats of the also white vertical blinds, but it was a cascade of grey and snowflakes.
Through the small window in the door, she noticed a doctor speaking to a tall figure with brown hair curtained over his face. He pushed the door open and she was relieved, but also, terrified to see it was her father.
She felt like someone had their hand clenched around her heart, squeezing so tightly that it shattered. She knew that he was going to be upset, to scold and condescend the way he always did when she got into any sort of trouble.
Her lip quivered when he sat down in the chair next to the bed. She went to speak but her words were lost in the vastness of her uncertainty. She closed her eyes, keeping her head down. She tried to keep the tears from falling but they pricked the blanket unaffected. Her caramel colored hair was draping around her face.
"Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It wasn't my fault, I promised I wouldn't let you down again and I failed at that too," she sobbed, her shoulders heaving, "I'm such a fuck up."
Ares reached out and pushed all of her disoriented hair away from her face, making her look up.
"You didn't let me down, Holland. You didn't fail. I love you no matter how bad the situation appears to be. We just need to focus on getting you home."
Her tears subsided, and she looked at him, shocked.
"I-I didn't? B-but you don't even know what happened. Did you visit the God of Truth or something? I don't understand."
"The pain in your eyes tells me all that I need to know, my love. And your doctors told me what happened to you. And if I ever find this 'Jesse' specimen I'm going to turn him into dog food."
"You didn't let me down, Holland. You didn't fail. I love you no matter how bad the situation appears to be. We just need to focus on getting you home."
Her tears subsided, and she looked at him, shocked.
"I-I didn't? B-but you don't even know what happened. Did you visit the God of Truth or something? I don't understand."
"The pain in your eyes tells me all that I need to know, my love. And your doctors told me what happened to you. And if I ever find this 'Jesse' specimen I'm going to turn him into dog food."
Holland felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She missed her dad. And it wasn't just the missing you feel when someone goes on a vacation for a week, it was the kind of longing that she had felt for years. Even when she made the claims that she hated her father, or that her father hated her, she always wanted a real relationship with him deep down. She wanted him to walk her down the aisle and dance with her at her wedding, and it was like now she could find the idea to be plausible.
"Hey, where's Mom?"
"She is in the Gift Shop cooing over a stuffed giraffe and hats for infants. She claims she only wants one but it's hard to believe that."
"You want another baby? But you guys are like, old..."
He laughed, and she felt like she could feel the room shake, "We're perfectly content with you, Dear. I'm gonna go speak to a doctor about when we can take you home."
"I...," she paused, "Dad, I think I want to stay for a while. I was doing really well here, I even made friends. I just think it's the best choice right now."
"I understand, Holland. That's very mature of you to do. How could you ever think I'd not be proud of you? You're an amazing girl."
--------------------
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Her hands trembled with weakness and when she tried to relax her muscles, and her mind, she just became more frustrated with herself. She couldn't recall the symptoms being this bad the first time, but maybe that was because it had seemed so long ago since then. It had only been a week and a half of being two steps back. Nothing seemed to be helping this time around, Not the meds, the breathing exercises, nor the pastime activities for distraction. Her veins itched with anticipation as if they were starving, as if the blood running through them made her feel more dead than alive.
She threw on a hoodie and rolled her eyes at the missing drawstrings.
If you're not fucking nuts when you come in here, you will be by the time you leave.
The blanketed snow crunched beneath her feet, clumps falling into her shoes and dampening her socks. She turned her head left and then to the right. After securely scoping the hallway, she pushed the door open slightly, stepping over the stick that was keeping it from locking.
There on top of the picnic table sat the brown haired boy that had become too familiar. That she was depending on more than she'd like and more than he knew. Every time, he found a way to protect her.
"Can I ask you something, Eli?"
"Anything."
"Why do you save me? Why don't you just let bad things happen to me? I was a complete stranger to you on that roof," she pauses, looking up behind her, "you could've let me fall. Why didn't you?"
He coughs, his breath swirling into the midnight, frozen air, "Why didn't I just sit back and let someone die right in front of me? I don't know that's a tough one."
She scoffed, pushing his shoulder, "But it's more than that. You're there every single time I get hurt."
"I'm sorry that you're not used to someone being there for you, but it's called caring about someone."
She'd been on edge since they moved her back to the psychiatric ward, irritated at the littlest of inconveniences or most things in general. He was right, she wasn't used to it, but that didn't stop her from getting offended.
"You're wrong. I've been there for me."
He rolled his eyes so hard they could have orbited around his head, "God, not this 'I'm my own hero' shit again."
"Excuse you?," she remarked, her brow furrowing in agitation.
He slid off the table and dusted the snow from his jeans.
"You think you're so fucking invincible, Holland. You knew what going to that party, seeing that asshole again was gonna do, but you did it anyway. Newsflash: You do stupid shit when you're around him. You thought that you could go in there and be some badass chick who went in there, told him to go fuck himself, throw a drink in his face and leave. But you couldn't cause you still love him."
"Stop acting like you have me all figured out!"
He groaned, "Take your own advice, you don't have any fucking idea who you are! At least I know that I'm batshit insane. I admit it. You try to pretend your problems don't exist and then wonder why bad shit happens to you.
I'm trying to save you cause I can't save myself. This shit doesn't just go away. It effects every goddamn thing I do, everything I think --"
"What I'm dealing with doesn't go away either, Eli," she exclaimed, her voice harsh and near his,"but that doesn't give you the right to hold my hand and be some type of fucking knight in shining armor. I never asked you to save me."
They were close to each other, their bodies exchanging the rising heat between them. He glided his palm along the side of her face, cupping her flushed cheek. His eyes flickered back and forth, reading hers.
He tried to slow his voice, but like his pulse, it was erratic and loud.
"Did you ever stop to think that I save you all the time because...."
He stopped, the words trapped inside his lips. His hand lowered and clenched into a fist of desperation in front of him.
"Because what, Eli?"
"Forget it," he said, straightening his jacket and moving past her to the thin line of light coming from the door. He tiptoed through it, leaving Holland in the dead silence of a winter night, with only her yearnings to come and add static.
--------------------
"There is obviously an elephant in the room that we should discuss, Holland."
The ticking of the clock rang in her ears, louder every passing second she had to sit on this tufted, leather couch listening to a chafing voice trying to understand her.
"Yeah, me forcibly getting held down while cocaine was shoved in my face, or do you just want to go ahead and skip to the judgement and call it a relapse?"
"You'll get no judgement from me. It's not my job to judge you. It's my job to help you," the therapist replied, sitting on the couch next to her and resting his arm on the back, "it's a climactic experience, and if you're ready to talk about it, we should do so."
She eyed him anxiously and scooted farther away when she swore she felt his finger trace her knee.
"There's nothing to talk about, everyone I give or once gave a shit about ends up fucking me over or some kind of up eventually. I have so many destructive thoughts running through my head at any given time. I take my showers just a little too hot and scratch my skin just a little too hard. I constantly have to find the will to even want to keep breathing, to keep living on hope."
"Things will get better."
The irritation was immersing her, pulling her deeper into this rotten pit she'd been pushed in.
"I. Was. Better. Don't sit there and tell me that it'll get better when it's only gotten worse. It seems there's only one person in my goddamn life that can tell me like it is, that can tell me what I don't want to hear, even though they're right. And he's not my therapist."
"I'm assuming you're speaking about Elijah. He's always been quite open with emotions. So, you like someone giving you a kick in the ass, is that what motivates you?"
"He makes me think. He challenges me. And I've been told to stay away from him, but I don't see why I should. He's abrasive, but maybe I need abrasive."
The man couldn't keep the corner of his thin lips from upturning.
"You're very passionate, Holland. It's one of your most redeeming qualities. You don't let anyone tell you how to feel, and you can recognize your faults. A lot of people can't do that. You're quite different from my other patients, and I know I should refrain from saying this, but, you're probably my favorite."
A chill crawled its way up her spine.
"I think I'm gonna throw up," she muttered, springing up from the couch and pushing the door to his office open. The scent of cleaning product stung her nose as she ushered down the hallway, swerving a nurse here and bumping shoulders with a doctor there.
Her legs carried her to the door and she pushed it open. Sunlight peeked through the bars on the windows, a decadent reflection illuminating skin.
He was perplexed, but before a whisper was emitted, she kissed him.
Once. Twice.
"Distract me."
He listened.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Her hands trembled with weakness and when she tried to relax her muscles, and her mind, she just became more frustrated with herself. She couldn't recall the symptoms being this bad the first time, but maybe that was because it had seemed so long ago since then. It had only been a week and a half of being two steps back. Nothing seemed to be helping this time around, Not the meds, the breathing exercises, nor the pastime activities for distraction. Her veins itched with anticipation as if they were starving, as if the blood running through them made her feel more dead than alive.
She threw on a hoodie and rolled her eyes at the missing drawstrings.
If you're not fucking nuts when you come in here, you will be by the time you leave.
The blanketed snow crunched beneath her feet, clumps falling into her shoes and dampening her socks. She turned her head left and then to the right. After securely scoping the hallway, she pushed the door open slightly, stepping over the stick that was keeping it from locking.
There on top of the picnic table sat the brown haired boy that had become too familiar. That she was depending on more than she'd like and more than he knew. Every time, he found a way to protect her.
"Can I ask you something, Eli?"
"Anything."
"Why do you save me? Why don't you just let bad things happen to me? I was a complete stranger to you on that roof," she pauses, looking up behind her, "you could've let me fall. Why didn't you?"
He coughs, his breath swirling into the midnight, frozen air, "Why didn't I just sit back and let someone die right in front of me? I don't know that's a tough one."
She scoffed, pushing his shoulder, "But it's more than that. You're there every single time I get hurt."
"I'm sorry that you're not used to someone being there for you, but it's called caring about someone."
She'd been on edge since they moved her back to the psychiatric ward, irritated at the littlest of inconveniences or most things in general. He was right, she wasn't used to it, but that didn't stop her from getting offended.
"You're wrong. I've been there for me."
He rolled his eyes so hard they could have orbited around his head, "God, not this 'I'm my own hero' shit again."
"Excuse you?," she remarked, her brow furrowing in agitation.
He slid off the table and dusted the snow from his jeans.
"You think you're so fucking invincible, Holland. You knew what going to that party, seeing that asshole again was gonna do, but you did it anyway. Newsflash: You do stupid shit when you're around him. You thought that you could go in there and be some badass chick who went in there, told him to go fuck himself, throw a drink in his face and leave. But you couldn't cause you still love him."
"Stop acting like you have me all figured out!"
He groaned, "Take your own advice, you don't have any fucking idea who you are! At least I know that I'm batshit insane. I admit it. You try to pretend your problems don't exist and then wonder why bad shit happens to you.
I'm trying to save you cause I can't save myself. This shit doesn't just go away. It effects every goddamn thing I do, everything I think --"
"What I'm dealing with doesn't go away either, Eli," she exclaimed, her voice harsh and near his,"but that doesn't give you the right to hold my hand and be some type of fucking knight in shining armor. I never asked you to save me."
They were close to each other, their bodies exchanging the rising heat between them. He glided his palm along the side of her face, cupping her flushed cheek. His eyes flickered back and forth, reading hers.
He tried to slow his voice, but like his pulse, it was erratic and loud.
"Did you ever stop to think that I save you all the time because...."
He stopped, the words trapped inside his lips. His hand lowered and clenched into a fist of desperation in front of him.
"Because what, Eli?"
"Forget it," he said, straightening his jacket and moving past her to the thin line of light coming from the door. He tiptoed through it, leaving Holland in the dead silence of a winter night, with only her yearnings to come and add static.
--------------------
"There is obviously an elephant in the room that we should discuss, Holland."
The ticking of the clock rang in her ears, louder every passing second she had to sit on this tufted, leather couch listening to a chafing voice trying to understand her.
"Yeah, me forcibly getting held down while cocaine was shoved in my face, or do you just want to go ahead and skip to the judgement and call it a relapse?"
"You'll get no judgement from me. It's not my job to judge you. It's my job to help you," the therapist replied, sitting on the couch next to her and resting his arm on the back, "it's a climactic experience, and if you're ready to talk about it, we should do so."
She eyed him anxiously and scooted farther away when she swore she felt his finger trace her knee.
"There's nothing to talk about, everyone I give or once gave a shit about ends up fucking me over or some kind of up eventually. I have so many destructive thoughts running through my head at any given time. I take my showers just a little too hot and scratch my skin just a little too hard. I constantly have to find the will to even want to keep breathing, to keep living on hope."
"Things will get better."
The irritation was immersing her, pulling her deeper into this rotten pit she'd been pushed in.
"I. Was. Better. Don't sit there and tell me that it'll get better when it's only gotten worse. It seems there's only one person in my goddamn life that can tell me like it is, that can tell me what I don't want to hear, even though they're right. And he's not my therapist."
"I'm assuming you're speaking about Elijah. He's always been quite open with emotions. So, you like someone giving you a kick in the ass, is that what motivates you?"
"He makes me think. He challenges me. And I've been told to stay away from him, but I don't see why I should. He's abrasive, but maybe I need abrasive."
The man couldn't keep the corner of his thin lips from upturning.
"You're very passionate, Holland. It's one of your most redeeming qualities. You don't let anyone tell you how to feel, and you can recognize your faults. A lot of people can't do that. You're quite different from my other patients, and I know I should refrain from saying this, but, you're probably my favorite."
A chill crawled its way up her spine.
"I think I'm gonna throw up," she muttered, springing up from the couch and pushing the door to his office open. The scent of cleaning product stung her nose as she ushered down the hallway, swerving a nurse here and bumping shoulders with a doctor there.
Her legs carried her to the door and she pushed it open. Sunlight peeked through the bars on the windows, a decadent reflection illuminating skin.
He was perplexed, but before a whisper was emitted, she kissed him.
Once. Twice.
"Distract me."
He listened.