Chapter 5
Elena
“Tell me, Lena, how are you?”
My heart was beating loudly in my temples. How was I? In all honesty, I didn't know what I was supposed to say. It was a simple question that required few words: okay, or not okay. Still, I couldn’t answer. I didn’t remember the last time someone had asked me this, wanting to know how I really was.
Stacey, my therapist, watched me in silence, her big brown eyes hopeful.
I swallowed. What could I possibly tell her?
Deep down, I knew I wasn't doing well. I hadn't been since.
.. since Mick had been diagnosed with leukaemia.
But after years of trying not to feel anything, admitting I was hurting seemed like a betrayal to myself.
I'd tried so hard to convince myself I was fine, and yet here I was, a weak, pathetic girl about to break down in front of a therapist who'd never been able to make me talk before.
No therapist had ever been able to get me to talk, but Stacey was kind.
She was also the only one who believed I'd make it.
Everyone else had classified me as beyond repair.
But this was a delusion. The only reason she believed I'd pull through was because she only knew bits and pieces of my reality, not the whole truth.
After the tragedy that had shattered my family, Stacey had given me a diary when my mother realized that I had become mute.
For a while, I'd thought that letting my feelings and thoughts out on paper would be safe and without consequence.
How wrong I had been. The day my father discovered the diary, I learned the hard way that lying was my best option. My only option.
I couldn't fool anyone anymore. Alex knew. And if he knew, someone else would find out too. I was so scared. What was going to happen to me now? I had to keep my head straight. I would not fall apart. I looked up at Stacey. She was still waiting for my answer.
“You want me to be honest?”
She raised an eyebrow. “That is the purpose of therapy.”
I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. Stop lying, Lena. “Things could be better.”
Stacey smiled at me and nodded. I let my head fall back. My heart was still pounding in my temples. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret this.
“How is your relationship with your father these days?”
I could hardly swallow my tears back, the disappointment about to drag me down. After all this time, I should have been used to it. So why did it still upset me so much?
“He never came to see me in the hospital.”
“And how did you feel?”
Being honest was terrifying. This time, I knew I couldn't lie. The lies were becoming too much to bear. “Abandoned and worthless.”
“Have you heard from your family?”
I shook my head, unable to answer. If I opened my mouth, I'd either burst into tears or vomit my guts out.
I missed my family so much. I thought I'd miss them less after a while, but the more time passed, the more it became clear I had no one left.
Between my older brother, who passed away, my mother, who couldn't look me in the eye since she knew my father had tried to strangle me a few years earlier, or my family, who had stopped contacting us, I knew I was alone.
But the worst of all, was that I was surrounded by people who made me feel alone.
As if I were invisible. And I didn't know how to get through all of this.
***
For long minutes, I waited in the doctor's office. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only six weeks, my cast was finally removed. Goodbye, awkward crutching from one classroom to the next, and hello, slow, painful rehabilitation.
I bit my thumbnail, waiting for the doctor to come back with the results.
I'd asked Mom to wait for me in the hallway. I’d been surprised when she’d offered to accompany me to the doctor's office.
For years, I'd had the impression that she'd left me on the sidelines, so having her near me at this moment only added to my discomfort.
“Your leg is healing nicely, Elena,” Doctor Petit announced as he entered the room.
“Does this mean I can dance again?”
I had to know. For the past few weeks, I'd spent my time worrying.
Would my dream end here? Did I still have a chance of succeeding as a dancer?
Would I be able to dance professionally?
So many questions were racing through my head, making me dizzy.
Doctor Petit removed his small round glasses and stared at me.
He had a receding hairline, which strangely accentuated his sympathetic aura.
“That's a question I can't answer yet. As long as you haven't started rehabilitating your knee, I can't make any promises. If you follow your physiotherapist's instructions to the letter, I think you will.”
It was a relief. But even though I felt a little better, there was still something that bothered me. Even if I could restart my life as a ballet dancer, I was set to lose another year of my life. Another year in that house, with a drunkard and an absent mother.
“I lost a year for nothing...”
“Don't see this break as an obstacle, but as an opportunity. Maybe it's the perfect time to focus on other things you'd like to accomplish or improve.”
Yeah, right... I had nowhere else to go. My mother had made sure of that when she’d decided I couldn't see my family after my brother died. This good news wasn't enough to erase all the pain that had been lodged in my chest.
On the way home, Mom talked about anything and everything to fill the void. Her concern wasn't doing me as much good as I'd hoped.
When I arrived home, I was surprised to see Alex waiting on our porch. He looked up from his iPhone and stared at my leg in amazement. You'd think that now that I could walk again on my own and go to school, he'd stop coming. He didn't.
“I see you don't need crutches anymore.”
“About time,” I mumbled as I entered the house.
I didn't bother closing the door, knowing full well that he was going to follow me. Walking without a cast and crutches was still very uncomfortable. I was still limping slightly, which was bothersome. I was tired of feeling like a broken doll.
Alex placed some notes on my desk and sat down on my couch. He kept bringing me his notes, as if I couldn't go back to class without him. I was beginning to think this was just an excuse to come over.
“So, how did the visit to the doctor go?”
“Good.”
I dropped onto my bed, head first into the pillows. I hoped this day would be over soon. After the session with the therapist and the visit to the hospital, I was exhausted. And as always, Alex's presence put me on edge. There was no reason for him to bother me anymore.
“What did he say?”
“Stop bugging me,” I said with a sigh. “I'm fine, I don't need you.”
“You live with an alcoholic and violent father; your brother is dead, and you just had an accident that may put an end to the career of your dreams. I don't think you're fine.”
Is he serious? I glared at him. Was this his way of making me feel better? If it were, it would be better if he just shut up. “Thanks for summing up my life. Do you feel better now?”
Alex ran his hands over his face, exasperated.
I was unbearable with him; I was well aware of that.
But all I wanted was for him to leave me alone.
His green irises pierced holes in my skull.
Alex always gave me the impression he could read me as if I were an open book.
The idea frightened me. He already knew too much.
“Elena, when are you going to stop lying to everyone? You're not okay.”
“If I accept that, I'll fall apart. And there'll be no one to help me up.”
That was the sad truth. I had to make it on my own.
“I'll help you.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I rubbed my arms nervously and shook my head.
He had to stop this now. He had to go. “No, you won’t.
Nobody does. Right now, you believe that you will be there, but you'll leave me.
Everyone leaves. So don't let me believe in something that won't happen. That's just cruel.”
I waited for Alex to argue. My expectations flew out the window when his gaze turned kind. This guy was way too wise and mature for someone our age.
“Maybe you should see this healing period as an opportunity to get better, not as a punishment.”
I'd heard that sermon before. I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Doctor Petit had told me the same thing a few hours earlier. Needless to say, I didn't believe it. Besides, why had he come to my house to play preacher?
Seeing that I wasn't answering, Alex continued, “This would be the perfect time to solve some issues.”
“What do you care?” I looked at him in disbelief. For a brief moment, I hesitated to throw a pillow at him.
Alex let out a quiet laugh. “Don't give me that look. Actually, I'm just telling you what my therapist once told me.”
“You...” I began, unsure. “Are you seeing a shrink?”
“Not anymore, but I've seen one for years.”
My curiosity was piqued. I had to see one because, supposedly, I had several traumas to overcome.
Which meant Alex was like me. This revelation took me aback.
I wanted to hate him so he could get out of my life.
But maybe he was broken too. I felt sad for him.
As much as I wanted him to leave and never come back, I couldn't help wishing he hadn't had to see a shrink for the same reasons I had: death, denial, self-destructive behaviour. .. Or worse. Whatever that implied.
“Don't look at me with those sad eyes. I'm all right.”
Oh no. I couldn't let my mask slip in front of him. I couldn't bear it. I sniffed and looked the other way, pretending not to care.
“I didn’t ask.”
Alex let his head fall back. He saw me as a puzzle he was desperate to solve. There was nothing mysterious about me. I was just a girl trying to show others that I was okay. Not that I was convincing anyone these days. Especially not myself.
“You really do have a heart of stone sometimes.”
It was the illusion I’d tried to show for years.
Now that someone had confirmed that I was made of stone, my heart sank.
I didn't want to be like this—I'd never wanted to be like this.
But how could I protect myself if I let people in?
The only thing that comes from trust is pain and deception.
I knew that. I'd learned that lesson a long time ago.
So even though Alex looked at me with those gentle, patient eyes, I couldn't let myself get dragged into this mess.
I wasn't strong enough to get back up if he decided I wasn't good enough.
And I wasn't good enough. That, too, had been established long ago.