Chapter 49
CHAPTER 49
NORA
I suck in a deep breath and draw the blanket wrapped around my shoulders tighter as I wait for the video call with Maggie to connect.
The thought of talking to her about everything is unsettling to say the least. A part of me wants to pretend it never happened, but there’s a small voice in the back of my mind—that sounds suspiciously like my mother—telling me that hiding from my trauma isn’t the answer.
“Nora, how are you?” Maggie’s voice filters out through my speaker moments before her face fills my screen.
Seeing her kind eyes and welcoming smile instantly relieves some of the tension building inside of me.
“I’ve been better.” I shrug.
“I’ve also been worse.”
“You’re still here.” She appraises me through the screen.
“You’re here, and you have your whole life ahead of you. How do you feel about that?”
How do I feel?
A million different possible answers surge forward, but only one really fits.
“Grateful.”
Maggie steeples her fingers beneath her chin.
“What is it you’re grateful for, Nora?”
“That I’m here. I survived.” I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“That Atlas found me. That our baby’s okay.” My hand strokes across my rounded belly as if it has a mind of its own.
“But most of all, I’m grateful that he’s dead. That he can never hurt anyone else ever again.”
When Maggie doesn’t immediately reply, I rush to fill the silence.
“That makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it?” Tears burst forth without any warning as the weight of my confession bears down on me.
“It does—I’m happy someone’s dead and I—I think that might make me a monster.”
“Oh, Nora.” Maggie sighs softly.
“Monster is the last word anyone would ever use to describe you. It might be unprofessional of me to say this, but I can promise you, a lot of people are happy he’s gone. The world is a better place without him.”
“You… do you really mean that?” I whisper, clutching the blanket between my fingers in my lap.
“Yes, Nora.” Maggie nods once.
“I very much do. Now, let’s talk about how you’re coping with all of this.”
I curl my shoulders inward, fully aware she’s not going to like my reply.
“I’ve been trying to pretend it didn’t happen.”
She arches one brow.
“And how’s that working out for you?”
I huff out an unamused laugh.
“It’s not.”
“Have you tried writing about it?”
“I… want to.” My eyes flit to my nightstand, where my diary sits, mocking me.
“I’ve tried, but I just can’t.”
“You have writer’s block.” She says it like a statement, but it feels like a question.
One I don’t know how to answer.
“Something like that, I guess.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s like… ugh.” I run my fingers through my hair, tugging the ends in frustration.
“It’s like every time I try, I-I get lost.”
“Lost how?” Maggie asks, her voice soft.
I rub at my wrists as they burn with phantom pains from the ropes Rand bound me with.
“In the memories. They’re so real… so vivid… it’s almost like I’m back there.”
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in an iron vise as I fight to stay in the present.
“Like I’m still with him.” I scrub away the fat tears rolling down my cheeks with the back of my hands.
I will not cry over him.
Not ever again.
“Nora—”
“I just want it all to stop!” I shout, my volume making both Maggie and I jump.
“How do I make it stop?”
“Nora,” Maggie says my name again, but firmer this time.
“I need you to take a deep breath, close your eyes, andtell me five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.”
I try to do as she says, but it’s almost as if I can feel his hands around my throat.
“In through your nose,” she guides me.
“That’s right, Nora. Good. And out through your mouth. Again.”
After several deep breaths, I begin counting.
“I-I can see James’s crib, his rocking chair, his dresser…” It takes an eternity, but as I work my way down the list, I can feel my panic lessening, as both my heart rate and my breathing return to normal.
“I can taste my lip balm—it’s vanilla.”
“Good, Nora. Any time you’re struggling with staying in the present, this is a great method to reground yourself. I also think it would be beneficial for you to confide in Atlas—he can’t offer support for an issue he’s not aware of.”
“I… I don’t want to burden him, though. He… he killed his dad for me, Maggie. What if he?—”
“Want to know the best way to clear up those what-ifs?” She gives me a knowing look.
“Talk to him.”
“Yeah.” I heave out a heavy sigh.
“You’re right.”
“Another great method is vagus nerve stimulation.”
“Vagus what now?”
“Basically, if you’re in a panic state, try sipping some cold water slowly or rub an ice cube across your wrist. Even a bag of frozen peas to your chest. This temperature change activates your vagus nerve, which is a part of your autonomous nervous system. When you activate it by changing the temperature, your body naturally calms down.”
“Huh.” I pull the blanket tighter around me.
“Probably a method I should tell Atlas and Ellis about.”
Maggie smiles.
“Probably. And, Nora, I definitely think you should give your diary another try.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I will try to write again and talk to Atlas. Thank you, Maggie.”
“Any time, Nora. And as always, if you need me before our next session, I’m here.”
I wait for the screen to go dark before disconnecting on my end and closing the laptop.
Maggie’s right—my diary is a part of me, and I’m not letting Rand take it from me.
I refuse.
And so, with a new sense of confidence, I abandon the desk in favor of James’s rocker, determined and ready to put the pain Rand’s caused me to paper, so that once and forever, I can give it away.
DIARY ENTRY, PRESENT DAY
Dear Diary,
It’s been a whole week since everything went down.
Seven whole days of Atlas and Ellis treating me like I’m made of the most fragile, handblown glass.
168 hours of the two of them micromanaging my every movement—down to when I eat and how much I sleep.
10,080 minutes of being torn between relief and dread.
I sound dramatic, but for the love of God, I can hardly even pee alone.
They’re driving me up the wall.
You’d think with Rand gone, I’d finally be truly free.
But the guys barely want to leave the house.
I haven’t even gotten a new phone—which means I haven’t talked to Scarlet either.
Somehow, I’m surrounded by love, but more alone than ever.
Now I sound selfish, but I just want everything to be normal again.
I want to claim the second chance at life —well, third chance, really—I’ve been given.
I want to explore, go to school, find a job.
I want to do it all, but every time I mention it, Atlas turns into a worried mother hen.
Don’t get me wrong, I love his protectiveness, but there’s a divide between us now.
A disconnect. He’s coddling me when all I want is to finally spread my wings and fly.
There’s so much more I want to tell you, Diary.
But I hear my keepers, as well-intentioned as they may be, calling for me, and if I don’t respond, they very well may bust down the door. Annoyed, Nora