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“Todd…” I pause. “We have to talk.”
His eyes hold mine. I know I can’t tell him the truth because they will put me into a mental institution.
“I don’t love you anymore.”
“Yes, you do. We can get through this.”
I shake my head and smile softly as my eyes fill with tears. “I’ve been through enough.”
“I know, and that’s why you need me.”
“I need to be alone. For the first time in my whole life, I want to be alone.”
His eyes hold mine.
“I’m sorry about Melissa, I’m so, so sorry. I love you. Please let’s work through this.”
I shake my head and take his hand as empathy fills me. “I don’t think I ever loved you, Todd.”
He frowns.
“I am incapable of loving you.”
He stares at me as he thinks.
“I want you to walk out that door.”
He looks to the door.
“And I don’t want you to come back.”
“I don’t want you to deal with this alone.”
“I have been alone my whole life.”
“Shelly,” he whispers sadly. “I fucked up, but I can fix it.”
“It’s broken for good, Todd,” I whisper. “We can’t be fixed.”
A knock bangs at the door. “Hello, Shelly. My name is Erica and I am a psychologist. We had an appointment booked for this morning.”
Grateful for the interruption, I smile. “Yes, of course. Come in, please.”
* * *
I’ve been in rehab for two weeks. It’s been six weeks since I was shot. I finally got the message through to Todd and he stopped coming to see me, although he still rings me every morning and night. The psychologist has diagnosed me with Stockholm syndrome, and so, for now, I am just playing along and agreeing with them
Six long weeks since I lost the other half of me.
Does he think about me all the time, like I do him? Sometimes I wake up and I feel like I won’t be able to survive another hour without him.
Are they right?
Am I crazy?
It doesn’t really matter anymore, I suppose, and I just need to concentrate on my health for the time being. One of the nurses from work is flying in to pick me up today and then fly back home with me. I’m assuming it’s my closest friend Moira, I think my boss would have sent her. I’m excited to be seeing familiar faces. It’s been a lonely six weeks and I’ve had no contact with anyone at all.
I sit on my bed as the nurse goes through the last of my medication discharge notes with me.
