AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ahem,” a nurse says. Apparently you can’t cuss in the psych ward.
Ken ignores her. “We like to visit the nice nurses every so often and get a break from life. Baby doll just likes us because we’re funny.” Ken calls everyone baby doll. Even the other men.
“Can I have my friend back now?”
He laughs. “Sure thing.” He turns back towa
rd the table and starts up whatever game they were playing.
“When do you get out of here?” Rebecca asks, causing me to laugh a little.
“I don’t know. I’m in here for at least two more days. Ken’s told me how to get out.”
“You sound like you’re breaking out of prison or something.”
I ignore that because I am. We aren’t even allowed off this floor. I’m literally locked up here. “All I have to do is fake being normal, answer positive to all the questions I’m asked, and I’ll be back in the world where I can fall apart on my own terms.”
Bec pulls me into a hug. “You are not going to fall apart. We’re going to take our week vacations at home with our parents, come back, move in together, and forget all about Trace and the psych ward. We’ll rock being adults.”
I’m not so sure. The only reason I’m even sitting in this room is because there’s no way they’ll ever let me out of here if I don’t at least act like I’m getting better. I still want to be in bed. I still want to cry 24/7, which is annoying the hell out of me. I’m not better. I’m faking it. I feel like I need to get really good at it because honestly, I can’t picture my life changing any time soon.
School is over, but work will soon, hopefully, be taking its place.
My boyfriend is gone as well as the person I was able to tell anything to. There’s just me now. It’s not the same to talk to someone else. None of them are Trace. All I want to do is crumble up into a ball. Bec is eyeing me with pity as if she knows what I’m thinking. I just wanna go home. I wonder if I would even be here if Trace had let me talk first. Would he have broken up with me anyway? Or waited a little while longer until I wasn’t thinking of harming myself?
Some of that anger Rebecca showed about my breakup finally starts to break through my sadness. How could Trace do this to me? How could he break up with me when I needed him the most? Even without what landed me here, I still needed him. I’ve needed him since I was in high school and he’s abandoned me. Up and left. He didn’t even seem that torn. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he never did.
A picture of us lying in his recliner and him rubbing my back to soothe us both after a long day comes front and center in my mind. It’s followed by him holding me, calming me down from a panic attack, and making me laugh when I didn’t want to. He had to have cared.
But then, why break up with me?
The longer I sit in this hellhole and bide my time until they release me, the angrier I get. My parents take me straight home with them, all the way across the state. Trace’s and my relationship isn’t mentioned. I hang out with them, spend too much time in bed when they let me, and scroll through past text messages from Trace when I feel like torturing myself.
I want to call him, but he hasn’t reached out to me, so I’m not going to reach out to him. I try to replace my sorrow with anger. It’s easier to deal with. Besides, depression and anxiety are bad enough without having to add a broken heart to the mix.
“Brittany?” Dad tentatively takes a step into my bedroom. I haven’t gotten out of bed yet and it’s three in the afternoon. I glance his way to acknowledge him. He comes to sit on the bed, pulling on my arms, so I’ll sit up. He pulls me into a hug and it breaks me.
“I was never supposed to lose him, Dad. He was always supposed to be there,” I cry. Maybe we shouldn’t have ever started a relationship. Then, maybe, I’d still have him. “Now, he’s left me, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“I didn’t realize you loved him,” he says quietly.
“So much, Dad.”
He takes a deep breath. “My advice is if he’s stupid enough to let you go, then you should take time to heal and move on from it. You deserve better.” He holds me for a few more minutes. “Think you’ll venture out of here?”
I frown at the thought. “Don’t you want to stay in here?” Sometimes, a girl just needs her dad. I need him and my room.
Dad doesn’t debate it like I expect him to. He motions for me to move over and then sits next to me, grabbing the remote and turning on my TV. “How are you doing up here?” He gently taps my temple and I shrug.
“Better, I guess. Could be worse.”
“Thanks for reassuring me.” Dad rolls his eyes.
Between that and his sarcastic tone, I laugh. Dad grins. It’s the first time I’ve laughed since I left the psych ward.
“You’re welcome.”
The rest of the afternoon is spent with us watching TV. Dad manages to talk me into joining them for dinner. Dad’s right. I need to heal and move on. As soon as possible, because this hurts too fucking much. Somehow, I need to do the impossible and forget all about Trace Lexington. At the very least, focus on my anger.
