42. 42
42
LYLA
I ’ve been here for weeks now, and every day brings new challenges, pushing me to my limits.
On my first day at the facility, my assigned psychologist, Dr. Melnik, said something to me that resonated so deeply. He said that when we experience trauma, we tend to blame the snake that bit us. While it’s fair to be upset that we were bitten, and it was the snake’s fault for poisoning us, it is our job to rid ourselves of the poison that lingers within our bodies.
I had suffered for years, blaming my snake for poisoning my body. Instead of taking the initiative and sucking out the poison, I allowed it to fester and feed on me, eating away at my soul every day. By doing this, I allowed my father to continue to have power over my life, despite his lack of physical presence. And I would never allow that again.
“So, Lyla, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m good, though the EMDR is exhausting.”
Dr. Melnik nods, jotting down notes with every response.
“Reliving our trauma through EMDR can be draining, but eventually it should be something you become desensitized to. Processing our trauma and our emotions can be a lot on us, even physically, so just remember that you’re taking the steps you need in order to overcome your PTSD episodes. It’s going to be hard, like we talked about on day one, but it will be worth it.”
EMDR is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, constantly exposing myself in my sessions to the emotions and turmoil, all the while I have to focus on sensations in my body and the bilateral vibrations of the gadget in my hands. At the end of every session, we put my trauma back into my imaginary container for later use. It’s helping, despite the short time I’ve been doing these sessions. I’m not feeling as triggered and the aftermath is lessening every day.
“How has drawing been going? Lillian said you were able to do some yesterday afternoon.”
“Yes, but it’s been hard to get going.”
He nods again as he writes. “The medication can cause people with bipolar disorder to feel like they lose some of their creative energy, but maintaining your hobbies while on medication can help with creating a routine. It’s important for you to keep that part of yourself.”
I wring my hands in my lap and stare out the window of the facility, observing the tree dancing in the wind as the snow falls.
“I think I figured out why I was so against medication.”
He waits for me to continue.
“My dad hated everything about my illness, and I think in a way, I was rebelling against him by not taking my medication and living my full-blown symptomatic life. Not to mention, I needed art like I needed air to breathe. I was terrified of losing that piece of me because I don’t know what I am without it.”
“Well, hopefully we can keep that part alive and well. I think going to the studio once a week and drawing in your spare time will do a world of good for you. Even using your talents during sessions has been helpful, right?”
I nod my head in confirmation, thinking back to the pieces of art I’ve worked on. I drew younger Lyla, hiding in a closet. I gave a visual representation of my fears and labeled them. I even drew the places that felt like home; my apartment with Cassie, Parker’s cabin, the mountain ranges.
I know that I’m not ready to go home quite yet, but I’m getting there. I had agreed to two months of treatment, and I’m halfway done.
Arctic blue eyes flood my thoughts and a lump forms in my throat.
“I miss him,” I mutter sadly.
“I know, it’s normal to miss your loved ones while you’re here. Just remember that you need to take care of yourself first in order to be there for others.”
Anxiously, I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m scared that he’ll be mad at me by the time I get back. He wasn’t mad before but maybe with some time apart, he’ll realize how selfish I was.”
“I don’t think what you did was selfish. And we aren’t supposed to be speaking about ourselves that way.” He gives me a withering look.
I let out a chuckle. “Sorry, I forgot. Sometimes speaking badly about myself is so second nature that it’s hard to catch myself.”
“I can understand that. Now, let’s get into why you hear your father’s voice when you think negatively about yourself.”
Anxiety and excitement battle for dominance as I pace.
I’ve been gone for two whole months, and today I’m finally going home.
I’d hastily packed my bag before I went to sleep last night and this morning Parker would be picking me up for discharge.
I had one final appointment with Dr. Melnik and he had deemed that I was ready to be released. I have been taking my medication consistently and have plans for outpatient therapy with Meghan and Katelyn, which I begin next week.
I say my goodbyes to the nurses and other patients before stepping out into the April air. It’s the beginning of the month and the temperatures are still low, so I pull my jacket around myself and jump up and down to keep the chill away.
I hear a vehicle approaching and my heart leaps into my throat as I see a black pick-up truck pull up to the curb. I make my way towards it as Parker’s form jumps out of the cab and rounds the front in record time.
Then, he’s running.
I let out a giggle as his body collides with mine. His arms wrap around me instantly and I nuzzle my head into his broad chest, letting out a contented sigh. His warmth envelopes me as his scent swarms my senses, instantly silencing my nerves. We stand there for several minutes, clinging to each other desperately, before breaking apart. I look into the eyes that have haunted my dreams during my time here and decide they can’t compare to real life. They look even more pale, illuminated by the mid-morning sun and sparkling with moisture.
“Hi,” I say as I rest a hand against his cheek.
He leans into my touch, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Hi sweetheart.”
“I missed you.” My voice breaks as I try to control the overwhelming urge to cry.
“Hey,” He lifts his hands to cup my face tenderly, “I missed you too. I went out of my damn mind without you.”
I smile knowing the feeling had been mutual. “Let’s go home.”
Parker grabs my bag for me as I get situated in the passenger seat and we make our way out of the parking lot and towards Emerald Falls. Parker turns on Matt Maeson for me, knowing that his music always makes me happy. I hum along to the song and look at the mountains we pass, stealthily checking out Parker in my peripheral every chance I get. He’s wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and a plaid flannel coat paired with his signature hiking boots. His hair is ruffled from running his hands through it repeatedly, an anxious habit that he has, and his beard is trimmed to perfection .
This man had invaded every thought, every dream, and every moment of my time in the program.
I know that it’s important that I’m doing this for myself, and I would never take away from that. It would always be for me that I chose to heal, first and foremost. But I also know that I can’t be the best partner to Parker if I don’t get the help that I need.
“Can I help you?” He asks with a smirk when he finally catches me looking at him.
“Yes, you can. Take me to your place.”
His smile grows. “One step ahead of you, sweetheart.”
The drive passes uneventfully and we’re finally driving through the main road in town. I look at the Jittery Bean as we pass and decide to send Cassie a text saying that I’m officially back in town and tell her I’ll be home tomorrow.
Today is for Parker and I.
We pull up to Parker’s cabin and I gingerly step out of the vehicle. Parker grabs my bag from the back seat and jogs to catch up with me, taking my hand in his. We step inside the space and I instantly feel at ease being back here. I turn to face the man who made this house a home and wrap my arms around his neck as he drops the bag at our feet.
I reach up on my toes and crush his lips to mine, every muscle in my body relaxing at the contact. This kiss is tender and slow, with deep meaning in every touch. I pour every fiber of myself into the kiss, promising that I will never take this man for granted.
The man who had saved my life.
The one who had stayed with me through treatment.
The one who has shown me unconditional love.
His heart is mine and I can’t even begin to express how lucky I feel to be the keeper of such a precious gem.
His hands weave through my hair, pulling me in and deepening the kiss. My hands roam his body, grazing over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, before I grab two fistfuls of his shirt and pull his flush against my body. I let out a groan as moisture pools between my thighs, reminding me that it has been about three months since we have had sex. Heat floods my system as we continue to assault one another’s mouths and I can feel his erection digging into my stomach.
Abruptly, he tears his lips from mine.
I give him a questioning look and the hunger dies in his eyes, sadness replacing it. He reaches for my hands and turns them palm up. Fingers gently brush over my new scars, shivers taking over my body as his thumb traces over the dark, raised skin on my wrists.
“I don’t want to rush anything. I know you’ve had such a hard few months and I don’t want you to do this if you’re not ready for that.” He places a kiss over each scar. “I can wait.”
I put my hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat underneath my palm. Something about this gesture has always brought me so much peace, even before we started dating. Feeling his heartbeat underneath my touch grounds me in a way that nothing else ever has.
“I want to, Parker. I’ve missed you so much. I need you.”
His gaze searches mine for any hesitation before finally, his lips crash down on me again. This time, they’re on my neck, kissing up my throat as his hand grabs the hair at my nape. He inhales my scent, letting out a sigh as his shoulders relax.
“Your scent drove me crazy for weeks, filling this house and haunting me. Slowly, it went away, leaving me feeling empty and I yearned for this scent to flood my house again. It didn’t feel like home without you.”
I whimper as his hand slowly works its way across my collarbone and down my chest, before finally cupping a breast. He lifts his head to fuse our lips together once again, becoming more frenzied with every nip and lick. I push my hips into him and feel his dick twitch in response. I slowly back up, pulling him with me towards the stairs, not breaking the kiss as we awkwardly stumble up towards the bedroom.
Once my feet meet the carpet, I back away from him without breaking eye contact. A smirk forms on my lips as I see desire oozing from his stare, perusing my body. Slowly, to the point of torture, I take off each item of clothing until I’m standing in my bra and underwear. He hisses as I put my hand into my panties and moan, coating my fingers with the dampness growing there.
“How wet are you, baby?”
“So wet.” I pant as I rub my thumb over my clit.
He stands, taking three long strides to reach me before he grabs my hand and brings my fingers to his mouth, sucking the juices from them.
“So sweet. Fuck, this isn’t going to last long if you keep acting like a devilish, sexy vixen.”
I give a sly smile, loving the effect I’m having on him.
“Maybe I want it fast and rough.”
His eyes light with trouble. “Is that so?”
His fingers trail over my breasts, grazing over my nipple as they harden within the thin fabric. I tip my head back in a cry as he tweaks one of my buds before moving his attention to the other.
“Parker, please. I need you.”
He lets out a dark chuckle. “I love when you beg. Such a good girl.”
I mewl at the praise as his hands continue to explore my body.
Finally, he backs me towards the bed and I flop on top of the comforter. His hands reach up and he tears my panties off in one swift motion, baring my aching pussy to him. He licks his lips in approval at the moisture he’s surely seeing. He frantically discards his clothes and tosses them to the side and begins stroking his length.
“Get on your knees, and put your hands on the headboard. I want to see how wet that pretty little pussy is for me before I devour it. ”
I do as instructed and I hear a growl behind me before feeling the bed dip from his weight. His fingers gently slide through my sex and I moan as he pushes two digits inside of me.
“Is all of this for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Only for you.”
He begins pumping his fingers and my pussy clenches around them, desperate for everything he’s giving me, before he pulls them out and replaces them with his mouth. I cry out at the sensation of his tongue plunging into me, working me and circling my swollen clit. I claw at the headboard, trying to keep myself upright as my legs shake and an orgasm shoots through me.
After letting me ride out the high, he grabs me by the waist and flips me over before thrusting into me like he can’t wait another second. I gasp as I adjust to his size and let out a throaty moan, missing the feeling of our bodies connecting. He pushes in and out slowly at first, before unleashing himself. Pants, grunts, and our sweat-slicked bodies smacking against one another fills the room and I can tell that we’re both so close already.
“Fuck, baby. You feel even better than I remember. So needy for my cock.”
I moan as he continues his relentless pounding, another orgasm building in my core. Suddenly, his hand comes down and lightly grips my neck, causing the sensation to build further.
“You’re mine .”
Then I’m screaming his name through my orgasm, and he follows suit.
Parker collapses onto his back and we lay there for several minutes, trying to catch our breath, shaking from exertion. More minutes pass in silence before I roll over and rest my head against his chest.
“I hope it was worth the wait.”
His eyes meet mine and are filled with so much love that I would have been weak in the knees had I not been lying in bed.
“ You are worth the wait.”