Ollie pulled me closer, and I rested my head over his chest. He ran his fingers through my locks as I thought about everything he’d gone through. Even after his past, Ollie refused to shut off his breaker or take medication. He still wanted to feel.
He always wanted to love, he just never had anyone to love him back.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” he asked.
“Put my toes in the water. What about you?”
“Find you … then take you to the ocean.” He couldn’t see, but I was smiling. “I want a life with you, Mia. I’ve never wanted anything more. Do you think we can survive the next two years? Think we’ll be able to make it?”
I sighed. “God, I hope so.”
There was a sudden skip in his breathing. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
“You won’t.”
The rising of his chest and the beating of his heart soothed me as my eyelids grew heavy.
“I have to leave soon,” he hesitantly said.
“Wait until I fall asleep. I can’t watch you walk out the door.”
“I should have brought The Notebook.” He laughed lightly.
“I’m serious, Ollie.”
“I know, I know …” He leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of my head. “Do me a favor, go to recreation tomorrow. There’s a fenced-in area out back, and I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
“Okay,” I breathed, my eyelids closing again as I began to drift.
“And Mia?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Stay with me, even when I’m gone.”
“Promise.”
Chapter Seventeen
“We were meant to be together, but
this lifetime wasn’t meant for us.”
—Oliver Masters
“BREAKFAST!” SOMEONE YELLED and pounded on my door, managing to wake me the following morning. My eyes opened to find Ollie gone, his presence replaced with an ache in my chest. It had been six days before I was able to see him, and waiting another six days wasn’t possible. Another pound at the door brought me to my feet.
“Dr. Conway insists you eat your breakfast,” the man said, holding a tray out to me as he stood beside a cart. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made the extra effort.”
“When’s recreation?” I asked, disregarding everything he’d said.
“Recreation will be inside today after breakfast. It’s pouring rain.”
My eyes dropped to the floor and I closed the door without taking the tray. I turned to scan the room behind me, looking for any evidence of Ollie. Unfortunately, there was nothing of him left in here. Not even his smell on a pillow or sheet because there was none—only the fucking mattress.
Dr. Conway finally showed up not too long after, bringing nagging along with her. “You need to eat, Mia. You can’t keep doing this.” She sat in a black folding chair, clearly uncomfortable as she balanced her clipboard over her lap. We were in a small office somewhere in the psych ward, and a small window displayed it was raining.
I fell back into the plastic-covered couch. “I remember,” I whispered as I stared out at the weather keeping me away from Ollie. “I remember everything.”
Dr. Conway arched a brow as she moved the clipboard over to the table beside her before scooting the chair closer to me. She dressed casually, wearing jeans, flats, and a plain blue shirt, but her black hair was teased high and unmoving from all the hairspray, and her makeup was heavy. She was the typical Greek from Boston, and neither the United Kingdom, nor Dolor, had taken that away from her.
“What do you remember?” Her tone was calm and steady.
“Don’t do that. Don’t go all doctor on me.” I shook my head.
“Fine, you want me to be real?” She stood and took a seat next to me on the couch. “I’m livid. I’ve been working with you for a whole month, and the moment you go to a psych ward, then you remember …” She slapped her thighs. “Talk about a blow to the stomach. I may as well quit my job.”
I pressed my brows together the same time she pursed her lips, and we both burst into a full fit of laughter. I laughed to the point no sound could escape, and tears fell from the corners of my eyes, but eventually, the laughter faded, and those once happy tears turned into the ugly ones.
“Oh, Mia, come here.” Dr. Conway pulled me into her chest, her large breasts swallowing me whole, though it was comforting in a way. She held me tight as tears fell freely and I gasped for breath.
“I’m so angry,” I cried out, my words muffled by her shirt. “Why didn’t anyone help me? Why didn’t anyone hear me? Why couldn’t anyone care enough to save me?” Each question brought out more cries into her hair, more tears longing to fall, and more built-up confessions escaping as she held me close. “I was locked away in my own personal prison. Me! I did that! Clawing and punching to feel again, but no one fucking heard me!” I pulled away from her. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To silently be trapped?” I lowered my head into my hands, gasping for more air.
“Mia, look at me,” Dr. Conway insisted. I lifted my head to see her sad and forgiving eyes before she continued, “You are so strong. You’re a fighter—
“No, I’m not a fighter. I’m weak. If I was strong, I wouldn’t have pushed my past away and flipped the damn switch. I would have fought through it.”
“You were eight years old, Mia. Cut yourself some slack. Not everyone can shut it out, but you did. At eight years old at that. Could you imagine if you hadn’t, having to deal at such a young age? You’re much older now, and you have the strength to heal, and Mia, it’s time. You have to let it all out. You have to start talking about your experience. You can’t keep it all inside any longer.”
“But it hurts … it hurts so bad.”
“And I promise you, after you get through the pain, there is a light at the end of all this.”
She pulled my head back into her chest and ran her palm up my forehead. “I think it’s time for you to return to the main campus. What do you think?”
The following two weeks were the slowest two weeks of my life; too many emotions kept me up at night, thinking of all the horrible things I had done over the last ten years. Regret kept water in my eyes as I thought back at all the people I’d hurt. The way I’d hurt myself. My head bounced from pointing blame to everyone else, back to feeling remorse for what I’d caused, back to blaming it on the world. I was a casualty of the war in my head, and this had all started with the actions of my uncle.