Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Tori
They want to send me away. They said it will help. But it just feels like they want to get rid of me. The doctor suggested some intense therapy, equine therapy specifically. She thinks time spent outdoors and with animals will help me connect with my feelings.
My mom, dad, and brother sat in the room with the doctor and told them how withdrawn I had become, how I had been lying about how I had been feeling.
I’d never felt so betrayed. I wanted to cry and scream at them.
I feel like no one understands how I’m feeling.
Everyone wants me to talk, but it’s the last thing I want to do.
I just want to forget. I want to block it all out for a little while. It feels too painful to think about.
The only light relief I have had from this never-ending heartache was when Noah came and visited yesterday.
For a few hours, I was just me. We didn’t do anything crazy; we didn’t talk about much.
It was just simple, easy. A game of cards and some vending machine snacks, but it felt normal, and I am yearning for that feeling again.
I understand everyone is worried about me, but I just need them to let me deal with this in my own way.
I’ll be in here for a few more days until the doctors determine I am not a danger to myself. I don’t really know why I kept taking the pills. I just wanted to have a break from the heaviness. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted some peace.
The door opens, and Noah enters, holding another bunch of flowers. He’s dressed in dark blue jeans, boots, and a black tee, and a calmness washes over me.
“Hey,” I say.
“I thought I’d mix it up today.” He places the flowers on the bed.
Today’s bouquet is a mixture of large daisies and yellow tulips, and I can’t help but smile looking at them.
Yellows and greens are fast becoming my new favorite colors.
I have hated looking at flowers since the funeral.
Everywhere I looked, it was all red and blue.
I don’t think I’ll ever look at those colors in the same way again.
“Thank you,” I say. He reaches into his back pocket and tosses the pack of playing cards and a box of Super Sour Patch Kids.
“Super sour? Are you trying to blow my head off?” I giggle.
He grins mischievously, and it makes my stomach flutter a little when he winks.
“Maybe.”
My cheeks heat, and I’m sure I am the color of crimson. I shuffle back on the bed, leaving some space for him to sit on the end.
“You look more like you today,” he says as he begins shuffling the cards.
I look down and fiddle with the hem of my navy top. I took what felt like the best shower of my life last night. I washed my hair, applied some moisturizer, and even a spritz of perfume. The doctor was right about one thing: taking care of myself will help me start to feel a little better.
“Thanks. I thought it was about time I made an effort,” I joke.
Noah stops shuffling and looks up at me. “Tor, you’d look beautiful wearing a trash bag. I meant you. Your eyes… you’ve got a little sparkle back today.”
I want to say, it’s because of you—that he is the only person who has made me feel normal this past week—that being with him makes me feel like I can breathe a little easier and I can forget why I’m really here.
But I don’t. I simply say, “Thank you,” and proceed with opening the box of Super Sour Patch Kids.
I pour a few out onto my table and take two green ones and hand one to Noah.
He shakes his head. “No, they are for you. Those things will blow your head off.” I giggle and hold out the candy and pout.
“Fine, as it’s you.” He takes it from my hand.
“Three, two, one,” he counts down, then we both place the candy in our mouths, and I regret it instantly. An explosion of something sour and sugary explodes on my tongue, and I scrunch my nose.
Noah begins coughing, his face bright red, contorted with pain, and forehead wrinkled. I choke out a laugh. Tears trickle down my cheeks, but not the sad kind. No, these are happy tears—feelings I thought I’d be incapable of experiencing again.
“Your face.” I chuckle as I swipe the tears with my fingertips.
‘Mine?” He coughs and points to his chest. “You should see yours. Your eyes looked like they were gonna bug out of your head.” I playfully shove him, and he laughs louder, which makes me laugh just as loud.
When the laughter begins to fade, silence falls, and all we can do is look at each other. I feel pulled to open up to him, to share something real with him. I worry it will scare him off, and I’ll lose this welcome relief he brings with him.
“They want to send me away,” I admit quickly.
His eyes widen, and he straightens his spine. “Where?”
“This treatment center in Texas. Something to do with horses.”
“And how do you feel about it? Do you want to go?” he asks, but there is hesitation in his voice.
“I’ve said no. I don’t think I need to go. This was just a hiccup, an accident.”
Noah takes both my hands in his. They are large and warm, and mine slip into them so easily, as if they were always meant to fit inside his.
“I need you to know that I am here for you, no matter what. You can tell me anything, and I’ll never judge you, Tor.
If you wanna talk, we’ll talk. If you need a distraction, let me help you.
We’ll play cards for hours, and I’ll eat all the Sour Patch Kids you want.
Just promise me, this won’t ever happen again, because…
” His voice cracks on the last word, and I’m hit with a pang of guilt.
What I did has affected more than just me. I know I owe it to them all to get better, but going away doesn’t feel like the right thing.
“… we can’t lose you too,” he confesses, and I squeeze his hands a little tighter as my eyes flutter shut.
“I lost the baby, I lost his baby.” A sob rips from my throat, and strong arms wrap around me as I let it all out. “And it’s all my fault.”
I know Noah probably already knew, but it is the first time I have acknowledged it properly. A very small weight lifts from my shoulders.
“None of it is your fault, Tor. Please don’t say that.”
He holds me until my body stops shaking and the sobs dissipate. He pulls away, and I brace myself for him to leave. Why would he stay after I just offloaded like that? I ruined our good time, and now I’ve made him so uncomfortable that he wants to go. I can’t blame him.
To my surprise, he picks up the TV remote from the stand beside my bed and settles in next to me, arranging the pillows behind his back.
He raises his arm, gesturing for me to snuggle into him.
I do without question, and he flicks on some soap opera my mum used to watch when I was a teen.
I pay it little attention because, before I know it, I am drifting off into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had since I lost Trent and my baby, listening to the rhythmic beat of Noah’s heart.
The sound reminds me I’m not alone; he’s here with me, he’s alive, he’s not going anywhere, for now anyway.