Chapter 42
Drew
I
drift off into a sleep, but it is not heavy enough to ignore a voice creep into my head. A voice that I don’t recognize but reeks with doubt I have tried to ignore. A voice that is whispering into my ear when things seem to be going well but is there to remind me of truths I don’t want to see.
What if I can’t do this without Emmett?
The sickening, familiar thought instantly makes my stomach turn as my eyes pop open. I feel my heart beating too quickly, quicker than before when I was thinking about going back to work. I try again match my breathing to Emmett’s, hoping my heartbeat will match his rhythm, but it doesn’t work.
I have to calm myself down without waking up him up.
Five things I can see… The fan above us spinning, the TV’s black screen, the bedroom door slightly ajar, Emmett’s dark hair spread on the white pillow, his black ink swirling along his arms.
Four things I can touch… my sheets, Emmett, the bedside table, and the glass of water that is there.
I feel my heartbeat begin to steady, and I take in a deep breath, so I can focus on what is making my body go into overload.
And not in a good way.
Slowly being able to think straight, the voice in my head becomes a little louder and a little clearer.
You won’t be able to do this without him.
You’re not strong enough on your own.
You need him.
Is this voice saying those things about Emmett?
All those months I let Reed let me believe that I was nothing without him, making me believe I was completely incapable of being loved unless it was by him, come back to me all at once. He used what I told him about my parents to skew my idea of what it meant to be loved, and I became so small that I was lost within the palm of his hand.
And I let myself fall into this all over again.
No.
Emmett isn’t Reed.
And I’m not 17 anymore.
Reed doesn’t have any power over me, and I’m not going to let him impact any more decisions I make or impact how I feel about myself.
Emmett has been there for me, and—
What would I have done if he wasn’t at the grocery store?
What would I have done if he wasn’t there after my toaster popped?
What would I have done if he wasn’t in the elevator with me?
What would I have done if he didn’t help me get Reed to leave?
These overwhelming feelings of doubt engulf me, and I feel myself rethinking all these moments over the past four weeks where I thought I was strong and regaining control.
Have I ever been in control?
Can I even consider myself strong?
My thoughts spiral over and over in my head, getting louder and more powerful with each shallow breath I take.
What if I can’t go into tomorrow without him?
What kind of scared, fragile girl needs her boyfriend waiting for the moment she crumbles?
I refuse to be that girl, but here I am anyway.
I’m stuck. Paralyzed.
Three things I can hear… My heartbeat in my ears, this voice getting louder and louder in my head, and… I can’t think of another.
Two things I can smell… Nothing. There’s nothing.
One thing I can taste… Again, nothing.
It’s not working.
During one of my first sessions with my therapist, I told her how my thought sometimes feel most powerful at night when it is time to go to sleep.
Maybe that’s why the 54321 Method isn’t working right now.
I feel like I’m being weighed down to the bed, not being able to send thoughts to my body that the pressure holding me down is not actually there because there is too many other things circling in my brain.
No.
I am no longer someone who freezes.
I am someone who fights.
These thoughts are just thoughts.
I need to get them straight.
I need to be in control.
Dr. James suggested that finding the will to just sit up, no matter how hard it may seem in the moment, will help me jump out of the spiral, so I desperately peel myself out of Emmett’s arms, instantly feeling less secure when his arms are no longer around me, but the pressure in my chest instantly releases.
The thoughts shrinking back to their normal size.
Fuck.
This is happening again.
I’m relying too heavily on someone rather than relying on myself.
I put in the work.
I am recovering.
And I don’t need someone holding my hand.
But I’ll crumble if he’s not there with me tomorrow.
I can’t let myself fall into the same trap I did with Reed.
I can’t allow someone else’s affection to give me worth.
I can’t rely on someone else’s strength to keep me standing.
That is how you get taken advantage of.
I won’t let that happen again.
I tip toe to Emmett’s side of the bed where our phones are charging at the bed side. I check the time to see it’s 5:15 in the morning. A good 45 minutes before my alarm was going to go off.
I turn off the alarm, deciding to start my day now. It may not go as Emmett and I planned, but it is what I need to do. Luckily, he is currently comatose, so tired from yesterday and our endeavors after he heard me admit I was falling in love with him too.
He is currently blissfully unaware that last night was the last time I would let myself into his bed.
I take my phone, leaving Emmett’s plugged in, and head to his bathroom that is slightly overtaken with things of my own. Over the past week, both of our apartments have remnants of the other. Clothes sharing drawers, toiletries sitting next to each other.
I grab the bag with the outfit I picked out for my first day back, black joggers and a black long-sleeve, casual and comfy for a full day of meetings. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and clip my hair back in a claw clip. I pull down two pieces to frame my face, and I have a sense of déjà vu as I remember the last time I got ready for work.
I skip the makeup and quickly grab my toothbrush, facewash, deodorant, and anything else of mine and throw it all in my bag.
I left my backpack with my work things by the door, and I grab that too before putting on my Vans and quietly opening Emmett’s front door. I allow myself to glance back at his place before leaving, coming to the realization that this is the last time.
As I look back, I see his keys with the spare key to my apartment dangling next to his. I set my stuff down in the door way, and I grab the keys from the hook. I feel tears forming in my eyes as I unhook my spare from his key chain, putting it in my pocket to put back in my junk drawer.
This is the last time.
It has to be.
I can’t let myself fall back into the place I was with Reed, allowing someone else to have such a hold on me, making me think I’m in control when it was never even in my grasp.
I feel a crack in my heart, as I turn back towards the door, and my heart breaks into two as I shut the door behind me.
As I walk towards the school, I remind myself why I’m here, why I’m doing this: for me and for my students.
I’m doing this because our sense of normalcy, our safe space, was taken from us, and I am going to do everything in my power to rebuild what Finn destroyed.
When I walk into this building, I remember that I am no longer the girl who is hung up on her ex-boyfriend, waiting for him to respond to my lonely texts.
I am no longer the daughter who isn’t good enough for her parents.
I am no longer the inconsistent best friend who cancels lunch plans, or who plays the major part in allowing us to drift.
I am no longer afraid of the toaster or falling asleep without the TV on.
I am no longer the person who lets being scared take my breath and hold it hostage.
I am no longer the person whose heart feels like it is going to explode anytime the silence gets too loud, or the person who lets anyone make me feel weak or powerless.
I am someone who will walk through the door no matter how afraid I am.
I am someone who will never let anyone take any more pieces of me without my permission.
I am strong enough to stand on my own two feet.
I walk down the empty hallway towards the cafeteria, nervous but ready for whatever is coming my way. As I approach the cafeteria doors, I hear the faint buzzing of staff who are already there.
I hold my shoulders up high and remind myself that, no matter what, I am meant to be here. I will pick up the pieces of what we thought we know and rebuild from the ground up.
That Friday morning in December will always be a part of this place, the students and staff, the community, and me. It has changed the way we feel about what was once our happy place, but I am here to put in that work because I know I am capable, and I know I am strong enough.
Now that I’m here, I’m no longer just Drew.
I’m Ms. Thomas.