I lowered myself onto the couch and wrapped my arms around my body as if I could somehow hold everything together. Time dragged painfully after that, and every second reminded me of how small I felt. The thought almost felt ironic. Under different circumstances I might have laughed.
The tears kept falling and my chest still hurt, but knowing I was not completely alone was the only thing that kept me from disappearing beneath the silence and pain inside me.
Chapter 4: Relapse
I didn't move from the couch, not when the ache in my stomach deepened into something hollow and not even when the knock came at the door. The sound was quiet, almost hesitant, but I stayed where I was and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. It was the same blanket he used to tease me about, the one he said looked like it had been knitted by a cloud. I had liked that comment. I had let myself like too many things.
Then I heard voices.
July spoke first, and her voice carried that familiar edge that only appeared when she was protecting someone she loved. Then I heard him.
"I didn't want to disturb her," Ellis said. His voice sounded rough and worn down. "But I'm worried. I don't know what to do."
My fingers tightened around the blanket while my chest drew painfully tight, as if I had swallowed broken glass and could not breathe around it.
"You should have thought of that before you said what you said," July snapped. "She's falling apart."
"I know," he said, and his voice cracked. "I know, and I hate myself for it. I didn't mean it like that. I was drunk and angry and scared."
"She's not some reflection of what you're afraid of," July cut in, his voice sharper now. "She's a person. She feels things, even when she keeps them to herself. You put her in a humiliating position, and you hurt her more than you seem to realize."
I pressed my hand against my chest as if it could stop the trembling, but it didn't help.
"I didn't think she'd hear me," he said quietly. "I didn't think anyone would."
His voice broke apart before he spoke again.
"I don't even remember all the details of what I said."
I did, and I wished I didn't.
"But I love her," he whispered. "I swear to God, I love her."
I wanted to explain to Ellis that years of progress had collapsed in seconds. I wanted to tell him that this wasn't only heartbreak and that this wasn't only sadness. I wanted to explain that something old had been pulled back to the surface, something I had spent years trying to bury and heal.
But I couldn't.
When July walked into the room and wrapped her arms around me, I reached for the notebook sitting on the coffee table instead. I had written in it before, mostly unfinished thoughts and crossed out sentences, but eventually I found a blank page.
I wroteTherapistand underlined it before writing underneath it:Find someone familiar with selective mutism. Adults. Trauma informed. Familiar with relapse.
Because this wasn't only anxiety. This was a pattern and this was an old wound opening again. I knew what happened if I didn't stop it now because I had already lived through it before. It always started with silence and then shame followed after that. Isolation always came next, and eventually there were days where the world kept moving while I stayed on the floor and watched it pass me by.
July looked down at the page and then looked back at me before slowly nodding.
"First thing tomorrow," she said softly. "I'll find someone. You don't have to do this alone."
I closed my eyes because that had always been true. I had never wanted to do any of this alone.
Later, July got up to take out the trash while I stayed curled on the couch and stared at the grain of the coffee table until the lines started blurring together.
Then I heard the door open again.
"You're still here?" July asked, and disbelief sharpened her voice.
"I can't leave," Ellis said quietly. "I know I should, but I need to know she's okay."
"She's not okay. Of course she's not okay," July said sharply. "You don't get to stand out here acting heartbroken when you're the reason she's falling apart in there."
