I curled into a fetal position over the blue mattress, wanting and willing to cry, but no tears would come out. So instead, I stayed still—lost in my own head, wondering what Ollie was doing, if he was enjoying the company of liquor and Bria during his midnight rendezvous, or forced in solitary confinement after the incident in the hallway. Was he thinking about me?
Ollie had cried. I had seen my dad cry before too, but it hadn’t affected me in the way Ollie’s tears had. Seeing him cry before me had only intensified the pain in my chest. Like someone had taken a dagger and pierced my heart, then twisted it. It hurt, and I knew if Jake hadn’t pulled me away, I would’ve done anything to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone. To wipe his tears and hold on to him the same way he became my angel in my darkest hours. Ollie had cried, and now he was alone. Or was he?
Either way, there was nothing I could do about it.
I was unable to measure time as it passed. The door opened numerous times with the small lady on the other end offering me food, but I declined. It was hard to say how long I’d stayed in this fetal position, staring at the blank wall in front of me. There was no sun, there was no moon, and there was no clock above the door—only white padded walls, and this fucking mattress. The irony in all this was, it was how I’d expected it to be before stepping foot out of the limousine on the first day I’d arrived. The psych ward was how I’d imagined it.
Not emerald eyes, inked skin, and a beautiful soul.
I’d never imagined Ollie.
I’d never seen him coming.
My stomach eventually stopped growling as I drifted in and out of a somber state. My body trembled as the pain grew thicker and deeper in my chest. I promised I would keep the fire burning inside me, but it was difficult without having him close. My body fought as my mind slowly lost balance. Determined to see his face, I clenched my eyes shut and imagined his lips moving as he read to me. The pain inside my chest set ablaze as I remembered the way he kissed me, the way he laughed. Dear God … his laugh.
It was a genuine laugh—one he threw his whole body into. His hands always went immediately to his face as his mouth shot wide open and his eyes would turn into slits. Sometimes his fingers would reach his eyes, sometimes he would bend over to his knees, but my favorite kind was when he would slap his hands together, and the cackle came from his throat.
And the way he made love to me.
The way he made me feel alive.
The way he made me feel—period.
A low whimper vibrated within me, and I pulled my knees closer to my chest. Nothing would make the pain subside. A slowly rising panic dominated, and my whimpers turned into screams.
I screamed until my voice broke and there was no air left in my lungs. Turning to the fucking mattress, I beat the bed before turning against myself, pulling at my hair and clawing at my arms. A mania took over as I beat my cast against the cement wall until it cracked open. I ripped it off and threw it across the room. Hysteria. All I wanted was out of this room. All I wanted was to fucking remember. Why couldn’t I remember? Why was I doing this to myself?
The door swung open, and I launched at whoever was in my path, but I wasn’t prepared to be out cold before I managed to lay a hand on them.
My conscious woke before anything else. I reached for my dry throat, but I was unable to move my hands. When I opened my eyes, Dr. Conway stood over me, reading from a paper in her hand. A blanket of relief washed over me at the sight of her.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said with a grin. “I was worried they gave you too much.”
“How long?” I asked. My throat felt like it had been sliced open with a knife.
Dr. Conway sat beside me, and I scanned the unfamiliar room.
“You were in psych ward for six days,” she said, and I closed my eyes at the time that had passed—six days without Ollie. “Your system is running on fumes. You can’t keep starving yourself. We had to constrain you and bring you to the hospital to get you on fluids.”
The hospital? “I-I can’t go back there,” I said, shaking my head. “Please, I’ll be good, just bring me back to the main campus. I’ll behave,” I begged.
“I’m sorry, Mia. It doesn’t work like that.” She patted my leg. “But, I am curious … your writing assignment, it was brought to me along with your books and paperwork. Have you read it?”
My writing assignment? She was bringing up my writing assignment now? As much as I wanted to go off on her, I shook my head. She’s on my side, I had to remind myself.
“You remember everything, Mia, or at least your subconscious does. Whatever the trigger has been for you, I need you to latch on to it. Hold on to that feeling and dive as deep as you can go. Once discharged, I’ll meet with you back at the psych ward to see how you’re doing.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked desperately. My cuffs clashed against the railing as I tried to reach out to her. “Please, you can’t go …” She was my comfort when Ollie couldn’t be. My throat burned, my head felt heavy, and all I wanted was for her to stay.
But she stood and ran her palm up my forehead and through my hair before turning to leave. The way she laid her warm hand over my forehead brought flashes of Ollie forward, and how I used to find comfort in that single touch, but it now only haunted me.
My mother used to do that, too, but it was before …
Before.
I grasped on to that single word as the door to my hospital room creaked open and Dr. Conway exited.
That sound.
No …
I shook my head rapidly, attempting to push it back down.
But I had been depleted of all strength. Memories of my past cascaded as a dam finally busted open. The pressure of the water was too much for my barriers to handle, and they collapsed around me.
I remembered everything. Every sickening thing. The beeping on the monitor beside me rang in my ears. My eyes darted around as I searched for air. Nothing could escape my mouth as I tried calling out for Dr. Conway. She continued to walk down the hall behind the glass dividing us. I pulled the cuffs against the hospital bed, fighting against the memories.
“Stay with me, Mia,” Ollie’s words rang over and over in my head. And suddenly, everything went calm. My lungs found air again, my heart rate went back to a steady rhythm, but I remembered everything.
I remembered the way my door had creaked open when he’d come into my room at night, allowing a sliver of light through the darkness. It had been the fear of the sound keeping me up as I’d prayed to God that once, just once, the sound wouldn’t come. But every night it had still came. I’d thought maybe if I pretended I was asleep the creak wouldn’t happen, but it always did—for an entire year, and God had never saved me.