Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Tristan
She refuses to see me. Four days since they took her behind those hospital doors, and I have not been allowed past the hallway.
Her doctor says she’s stable, eating, resting.
That she needs time. I tried to see her anyway, but security escorted me out because I am not…
family. They told me she is afraid of being seen.
Afraid of the weight she lost, the bruises, the scar on her shoulder.
As if any of that could change what she is to me.
I saw her that day. I saw the blood, the bones under her skin, the mark they burned into her.
I saw all of it. And I still wanted to hold her.
Feed her. Sit by her bed and make sure no one touched her again without permission.
I'm waiting but it’s killing me.
She is alive but she won’t see me.
Life has lost all color.
Ella
I’m living in a constant state of…blur. White room, white coats, and the relentless beep of a machine.
Am I floating? For how long? I do not know, but all I can think of is a guardian angel far away, his voice near and yet so far.
I heard Tristan wanted to see me, but when the nurse came to help me wash and made me stand in front of the cold hospital bathroom, I almost collapsed.
Who is this girl in the mirror?
Skin and bones, under-eyes darker than charcoal, hair sticky and black, like ink diluted and kept doing so.
The bones of my shoulders protrude, the V branded on my shoulder reminding me of the shame I will forever carry, and my ribs, frail and visible, like a cage, are impossible not to see.
A reminder of the lack of food and comfort and life and hope.
A reminder of the weakness I let out when I believed he would never find me.
My body is living proof of my broken mind, of the private betrayals of myself losing hope too soon, being too weak, letting the dark convince me it had already won.
He cannot see me in this state. Anyone sane would run away from a barely walking cadaver. I cannot see you, Tristan, I want to tell him.
You would leave me there, and I am not sure I could survive it.
Give me time.
Give me time to become me again.
If that is even a possibility.
* * *
“Ms Brooks, I’m right here. I have you,” the nurse says, one hand hovering near my elbow, the other ready at the small of my back without touching me unless she needs to.
Come on, Ella. Two-year-olds can do it, so can you.
We are walking the long hallway of the hospital floor, practicing the impossible journey from the small patient kitchen nook to the window at the opposite end of the corridor.
A month ago, such a distance would have meant nothing.
Now it feels like crossing a country. My feet do not obey as quickly as my mind asks them to.
My knees tremble after a few steps. My muscles burn with the humiliation of effort, as if my body has forgotten the simple art of carrying me.
“That’s it. Small steps,” she says softly.
“No need to rush.” I used to move faster than lightning.
Now I have to think about lifting my foot and placing it down without collapsing.
“This is normal after what your body went through,” she assures me, but I catch the faintest hesitation in her smile, the careful kindness of someone trained not to look worried.
It is bad. I know it is. Two more days have passed, almost a week in this place, and I still scare myself in the mirror.
“Mr. Ashford asked us again if…” I do not even let her finish and shake my head. “All right,” she lets out, defeated. “Not today.” I grip the rail along the wall and stare at the window waiting for me, bright with a world I am supposed to know how to enter again.
I am not ready yet.
And I am terrified that I never will be.
* * *
“Four kilos. That’s quite an accomplishment in such a short time, Ella,” the doctor says after my tenth day here.
He looks like a grandpa, his white hair combed, mint aftershave lingering in the air beneath his long coat.
He has a calmness that holds decades of experience, and surely several terrible moments of giving bad news to families.
Ever since I arrived here, he has been nothing but patient with me, despite my reluctance to communicate or smile.
This morning was the first time since I arrived that I did not scare myself in the bathroom mirror. My ribs are less visible, my cheeks less hollow, and there is a spark of light coming back to my face. Could today be… Could today be the day I let Tristan see me?
“Do you think you’d be ready for Mr. Ashford to visit you, Ella?
You are within your rights, and no one can pressure you if you are not ready, but, well, I think you should know that he has been coming here four times a day, asking us to let him see you.
He even slept several times on the chair in the waiting room, which I’ll admit is terribly uncomfortable.
” He pauses. “I am telling you this not to pressure you, but so you know there is someone in your corner. Someone who…” He removes his glasses.
“He will not let you down, Ella. I do not think he will. I know you’re scared but…
It has been a while since I have seen a young man so… attached.” Tears gather in my eyes.
I nod, saying, “Okay.” I am not ready, but I cannot push back the inevitable. My heart breaks into a thousand shards, in and out. How will I manage to live without Tristan when he sees how broken I have become?