Chapter Thirty-Nine
Quinn - Present Day
The only possible way to describe how I’m feeling is bone-tired.
Fatigued beyond levels I’ve never experienced.
Bones says that it’s to be expected. That between the therapy and the side effects of the actual pain medication I should have been taking for the last seven years, my body is in an adjustment phase.
I’m by no means pain-free, but I have the ability to function, and my brain is bouncing all over the place at the prospect of possibilities.
It’s alien to me, but fucking fascinating.
After the kiss, which in the words of Evanescence, “woke me up inside”, half of my brain is floating on a cloud somewhere, and the other half is attached to a rope trying to ground it like a cowboy trying to tame a wild horse.
I can hear myself shouting, “Whoa, girl, slow your roll.” While the giddy side activates selective hearing mode, ignoring the other side completely.
We spent most of the evening out in the back garden under the pergola debriefing my first session.
There was no more kissing, more’s the pity, but I’ve pushed him out of his comfort zone enough for one day; I don’t want him to think I don’t respect his boundaries, because I do; it’s just that my vagina is the energiser bunny and refusing to run out of battery.
I described my exhaustion to him, explaining that it was surpassing my ‘usual’ fatigue.
And he told me that it’s normal for my body to feel that way once it starts to feel safe.
That my body has been in a state of hypervigilance for so many years; it’s been running on super high levels of cortisol and adrenaline at all times and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He said that your body isn’t supposed to do that for a prolonged amount of time, so that, alongside my mental state, it would take my body time to recover. To get used to the feeling of safety.
He also cemented my CPTSD diagnosis. Instead of working through the list of my already diagnosed conditions, he wants to view this week as a blank slate with no prior information other than the blood test results he had.
We’ve never spoken in depth about what I’ve been diagnosed with and when, except for the odd mention of my suicidal state and what Dr Stephanie said, so I feel like he’s unbiased enough to be able to do that.
I won’t lie, I’m very nervous about it. I’ve always been Quinn, the girl with depression.
Or Quinn, the girl who lies for attention.
Or Quinn, the disabled girl. So, the thought that a) that could all be taken away from me and b) the realisation that my health could have become my identity, is actually pretty terrifying because we’re quite literally at the cusp of discovering whether this has actually all been inside my mind, or whether I’ve just been gaslit my entire life.
I never even knew what gaslighting was until I couldn’t sleep the other night.
I had a true crime documentary on where, ironically, a stepbrother had murdered his fifteen-year-old stepsister after driving her to the brink of insanity, chopped up her body and had the entire town out looking for her.
But after doing some reading online—don’t worry, not Dr Google—I found some forums for survivors of domestic abuse, the missing pieces to the puzzle appeared, and a full picture began to form.
I finally found out where we are as well.
Turns out Lulu lives a few towns over from my home town in a place called Mentula.
A tiny little market town close to the coast. We’ve all agreed that going out by myself is a big fat no-no, but that it’s important for my recovery to get a change of scenery, so this morning Lulu and I are going out for a walk with Ted before my session.
I’ve decided to tell Harley about remembering what Eric did to me today. Although I can’t really say I remember the act as such, more the revelation from Keelan and the watching of the video. So I know it happened, but my brain is just still refusing to go there.
During my session, I felt like I dissociated, but not like my brain had experienced beforehand; no, this was dreamlike.
Like I was just drifting along in a warm body of water with no fear of drowning.
Bones said that that’s normal because it’s the ketamine acting as a receptor antagonist and creating a mild altered state of mind—or something along those lines.
I’m nervous about going out for the first time in case I’m seen.
It will be the first time I’ve spent some one-on-one time with Lulu outside of the house, too.
During the night last night, I had a night terror while Bones was working, and I asked her not to disturb him.
She decided to sit with me instead, and it turns out we have quite a few things in common.
So I’d really like the chance to get to know her a bit more.
If I want the little cousin to fall in love with me, then I kinda need the big cousin to love me too after seeing how close they are.
Lulu walks through the door with Ted’s collar and lead just as I'm finishing off brushing my hair and putting it in a ponytail. “It’s not greasy, I promise. It’s a hair mask. I do wash.” I laugh as I point at my hair.
“Girl, this mop gets washed once a fortnight. Dry shampoo is an ADHD’ers soulmate. Trust me, I get it. The paralysis of washing my hair takes me a good seven working days to talk myself into.”
I thought it was just me that felt like that.
“Well, thank fuck for that. Didn’t want you to think I was a scruff.”
Lulu rattles Ted's collar to get his attention, and he comes bounding through the door like a bull in a China shop with zero spatial awareness.
Like father, like son. He zooms around my room, flies over the bed and off the other side before spinning in a circle and sitting perfectly at her feet. Fucking suck up.
“Oi, Traitor, I thought we were besties.” I look at Ted deadpan, a look of faux betrayal on my face. He ignores me.
“Don’t worry, girl, it happens to the best of us. He’s a hoe.”
“Probably gets it from his dad. He must have women stalking him all over the place with those eyes and dimples.” I mean for it to come out as a joke, but I realise it comes out as a judgemental insecurity. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Sorry.”
Lulu looks at me. “Quinn, I know you know basically nothing about me, but I’m a roaster.
I roast the shit out of him at every opportunity, and at some point I will to you, too.
He may feel like you need to be wrapped in cotton wool and protected at all times, but I don’t.
The worst thing about being hurt, ill or traumatised is that people walk on eggshells around you, never knowing what to say.
” She bends down to put on Ted’s collar, giving him a treat as a reward for responding to her commands.
“Instead of treating you as they would want to be treated, they ghost. And that’s not and never will be me.
Once I know you understand my humour, it will be game over for you, and you’ll be begging me for mercy.
” She winks at me. “And I have no doubt we will bounce off of each other like the best friends I intend for us to be. Just don’t tell my best friend because she’s very possessive, and you’ll probably find yourself being burnt to a crisp in her crematory.
There are lots of things about my life that require confidentiality, so new people have to wait a little bit longer to see the authentic me, but you will, I promise.
Now, come on, let’s take the menace for a walk. ”
She holds out her arm for me to link. “Thank you, Lulu. I appreciate you treating me like a normal person. It’s not something I’m used to, but I’m trying not to second-guess everyone’s actions and wonder about ulterior motives.”
“Well, let me put your mind at rest about one thing, Quinny-girl.” I wince.
There was a time I revelled in that nickname, and I hope when I’m out the other side of this I will again.
“My baby cousin is hopelessly in love with you. Whether he knows it himself yet or not, I can’t tell ya, but I know him better than he knows himself.
As for other women, the only women I’ve ever seen him with are our survivors.
He’s dated, but nothing ever stuck until you.
There was one girl when he was a kid, but she disappeared off the face of the earth.
The way he used to talk about her, I thought she would for sure be the one when they grew up.
But then I saw how upset he was when he couldn’t get to you.
I saw the toll it took on him, and I see the way he cares for you.
Harley fucking Valentine is a simp for you, Quinn, and the only way out will be death. ”
She hands a package to me. “What’s this?” I ask.
“It’s a gift. Technically from Harley, but I helped him find it, so I’m taking joint credit.
It’s practical, so don’t get too excited, but we want to make sure you feel supported and fully equipped.
” I rip open the packet to reveal a fold-up walking stick, and my heart bursts.
I want to cry. “Don’t you dare fucking cry.
I don’t do other people’s tears unless you’re having a traumatic breakdown, and then I’ll consider making allowances. ”
“How did you—”
“Rhi told us that the staff at Saving Hearts withheld your walking aids from you. With what we now know about the lack of pain meds, your body will be getting used to the new ones, which will make your brain feel like you can push yourself more. It isn’t a bad thing, but you still need to take things at a manageable pace that you can continue consistently.
So we thought we’d get you a new walking stick, personalised to you and the things you love. A sign of a fresh start, so to speak.”