Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Cullen
“Okay, Cullen. Why don’t we start with why you are here?”
I’m sitting ramrod straight on the couch in Maria’s office, my hands locked together between my knees. My emotions are raw from the police station last night, and I’m pissed my Dad pulled strings to get me in here this fast.
Maria waits patiently for me to answer, but I roll my lips inward to keep from telling her what a load of bullshit I think this is. My eyes sweep the small room, cataloging anything that isn’t her face.
“Let’s try this then. What just went through your mind when I asked that initial question?”
I scoff, my eyes fixed on the small diffuser releasing a mist of lavender fragrance. I inhale it deeply, willing it to calm my racing heart.
Maria sighs. “Cullen, refusing to answer is not going to make this all go away. I want you to know that this is a safe space and nothing that you say or do will leave these four walls.”
My gaze finally meets Maria’s warm, brown eyes, acknowledging her for the first time since I walked in.
She looks to be in her late twenties, with curly black hair and a kind smile.
She’s dressed down in a nice pair of dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, half tucked.
She’s attractive, which throws me off a little bit.
I’ve always assumed therapists wore stuffy suits, with their hair pulled back into a severe bun.
Maria is more casual, more approachable.
It admittedly makes me comfortable enough to answer her last question.
“I’m here because everyone thinks I’m angry and carrying trauma from—” my eyes close, the sting of tears threatening to fall.
“From the threat of your boyfriend’s stalker and his subsequent suicide attempt,” Maria finishes for me.
I open my eyes and nod. My knee bounces and my hands are starting to ache from how hard they are clasped together.
Maria makes some notes on her notepad before asking another question. “And do you think you need to be here?”
“I was forced to be here,” I reply, my voice flat.
“That’s not what I asked you.” She gives me a pointed look.
I sink down into the couch cushions and cross my arms. My eyes travel to the windows when I answer her. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure or you don’t want to admit that you may need help?”
Fuck therapists and their probing. I guess I should have known she would be able to dig deep into my wounds and rip them wide open. And you know what? Fuck it. The words start to tumble out before I can even stop them.
“I can’t focus on myself until Hudson is better.
I wasn’t good enough for him before he jumped, so now isn’t the time for me to fall apart.
” My knee jackhammers, a hectic rhythm that matches the pounding in my chest. “If I’m busy focusing on my issues, then I may miss something—a sign.
They were there before, and I ignored them.
It’s because of me that he jumped. He even told me the river would be a nice place to die.
I walked in on him clutching his pill bottle.
I watched the light drain from his eyes, and the shadows take its place.
I saw it all, and I still let him walk out of my house that day.
” My voice breaks on the last word. My lungs are heaving and tears are tracking down my cheeks.
But I’m not finished yet, and Maria can sense that.
“I’m so fucking mad at Hudson.”
Maria sits patiently, taking quiet notes and letting me word-vomit all over her office.
“I don’t blame him,” I say, wrecked. “I don’t. I know he couldn’t help what he was going through, but I wish he hadn't give up.” I look at Maria, needing to know if I’m off base. “Is that what he did? Give up?”
“You know Hudson is also a client, so I can’t divulge anything that pertains to him.
But I can say that mental health issues can be incredibly consuming.
Some people find ways to keep functioning despite that weight.
Others become so exhausted that their thinking narrows and they come to believe that there are no other feasible options left.
That isn’t giving up. It’s fatigue—emotional, cognitive, and physical.
When someone’s that exhausted, their world gets very small. ”
Maria hands me some tissues from the box on the coffee table that sits between us and eases back in her chair to assess me for a moment.
“You can understand all of this intellectually and still be furious. You are allowed to have a response to what happened. The concern is when that anger begins to take control of you.”
I blow out a breath, already mentally strung out and just wanting this day to end.
“When your anger shows up, what is it usually in response to?”
I wipe my eyes with the tissue, my heart heavy. It always comes back to one thing.
“Hudson.”
“Hudson as a person? Or Hudson in that moment?”
Fuck I didn’t think therapy would be this intense. I don’t want to talk about it, but I know I’m not escaping without baring my soul.
“Hudson in that moment. Never Hudson himself. He’s amazing. He’s—.”
He’s perfect.
A small smile curls my lips.
“Tell me about your relationship with Hudson before you became a couple.”
Okay, this I can talk about. This feels like safe territory.
Allowing myself to relax a little, I start where it all began. “Hud has been my best friend from the moment he asked me if I wanted to sit with him on the first day of school in fourth grade.”
I remember that day so clearly. It wasn’t just the first day of school, but my first day in general. I was the new kid, and I was nervous.
“Hud took one look at me and didn’t hesitate to invite me into his group of friends.”
Maria folds her hands over her notepad. “How did your relationship progress from there?”
“Um… we were inseparable, I guess. If I wasn’t at his house, he was at mine. Or we were at the riv—” I stop. The last thing I’m going to do is talk about that place.
“Or you were where?”
My teeth tug on my bottom lip, finding a piece of skin to chew on. My eyes dart to the window again, my vision fuzzy with a memory I’ve tried so hard to forget.
“We can circle back to that. It seems to be something that has meaning to you.”
My jaw tenses.
Fuck that place.
Maria studies me for a moment. “How would you describe your role in the friendship?”
My eyes snap back to her, my brow scrunched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, usually within any form of relationship—whether it be friendly, familial, or romantic—there are dynamics that each person takes on. Some people are the life of the party, while others are the caregiver, or even the sensible one.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” I mumble.
“Then what would you say was your role?”
“I don’t really know. What does this have to do with anything?” My knee is back to bouncing, the sound of splashing water and flashing lights filling my mind. I grasp the neck of my t-shirt and fan myself, a bead of sweat tracking down my temple.
“Because knowing your role helps me understand why this affected you the way it did.”
Without knowing I’ve always done it, I’ve looked out for Hud. Not that he’s ever really needed it, but it was always in the little things. Letting him order first when we’d go to Melvin’s, making sure his water bottle was full at practice, helping him tape his bad ankle before a game…
“I guess… I’ve always tried to take care of him. Make him happy.” I swallow the knot that has formed in my throat. “Keep him safe.”
“And do you think that role has grown since the friendship has changed?”
My teeth grind, and a headache pulses behind my eye. “Of course it changed. Loving him raised the stakes.”
“Alright, then that brings me to the understanding that maybe your anger is because you think you failed Hudson?”
My stomach roils, the urge to heave threatening. I take a sharp inhale through my nose, the anger barreling through me like a runaway car.
“Of course I fucking failed Hudson!”
Maria doesn’t flinch at my outburst, just watches me with that assessing eye.
It pisses me off more.
“Why the fuck am I being forced to be here and talk about what I already know? I’m a failure. I failed, okay? I fucking. Failed. Him!”
I’m on my feet, my arms thrown wide as I scream from the top of my lungs. There is a knock on the door, and a man pokes his head in, a silent question if everything is alright in here.
Nothing is fucking alright.
Maria calmly waves the man away, then focuses back on me. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
“I’m done.” My voice sounds like it’s bleeding, cracked, and raw. I sprint out of Maria’s office, her voice calling after me.
I burst out of the building and into the courtyard, the bright sunshine mocking me. My legs carry me to a small garden where I double over and lose the lunch I had before this appointment. I heave until there is nothing left, just a burning throat and the sour taste of bile.
With the back of my hand, I wipe my mouth, then fish my keys out of my pocket.
Once inside the safety of my car, I allow my head to fall back against the headrest. My chest aches, my heart thundering like a pack of racehorses. I grip the steering wheel, the leather crying under the assault. My mind is scattered with thoughts, all of which are ways I’ve failed Hud.
I punch the steering wheel, over and over, until something in my hand cracks and pain radiates up my wrist. My scream echoes back at me, the phantom reminder of the heartbreak and hopelessness I felt at the river that day bearing down on me.
For one terrifying second, I understand why Hudson did it. Why he needed the pain and noise to just… stop.
The thought makes my stomach twist, but it’s not him I can’t forgive. It’s me. I failed.
And I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with that.
I’m sitting on my cold bathroom floor, clutching my right hand to my chest. It throbs, dried blood crusting over the torn skin. There’s a matching hole in the wall beside the one I punched in a couple of weeks ago. I probably should go to urgent care, but the thought of standing feels impossible.