Finding Home

by K. L. Humphreys

  My cell rings, and I rush to answer it. “Hello?” I hope that it’s Seb, we’ve been speaking a lot since that day, he checks in on me at least three times a day if not more. He’s also keeping me up to date with how Mom’s doing. Even though she’s selfish and hates me, there’s a piece of me that loves her and still wishes she’d change her ways. Like that would ever happen, at least she’s a mom to Sebastian. He needed her when both Dad and I were gone.

  “How are you doing?” It’s Seb. His face is still so bad; he had to have forty-eight stitches, and it looks like he went eight rounds. He acts like it doesn’t faze him, but it obviously has. He’s been staying here in the complex as I didn’t want him to check into a motel.

  “I’m okay. Tired, but okay. What about you?”

  “Every day is better. So Mom’s being released next week, and our house is still a crime scene.” Mom was lucky; both stab wounds missed all vital organs and arteries. She lost blood, a lot of it, and she was given a blood transfusion. She was lucky. We all were. “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially after everything she’s done but is there any chance she could stay here?”

  I pause, unable to answer. She’s my mom but at the same time she’s a bitch, and she goes out of her way to hurt me. That’s one reason I wouldn’t want her to stay, the other; I don’t think Trent would keep his cool around her. “She can stay with you.” Shit, I’m so fucking stupid, I should have said no but I knew if I did, Seb would be gone too, and I’m not ready for that yet, so that means Mom moving into the complex.

  “Oh Shelly, thank you.” He releases a sigh of relief; apparently he’s been agonizing over it for a while. “Where’s Trent, I haven’t seen him since you were released from hospital. Is everything okay with you two?”

  “Yeah of course it is, he’s busy connecting with his family. I’ve made him go as I don’t want anyone to hold grudges, especially when they’re remorseful over what’s happened.” I told Seb everything about Trent, how amazing he is and how much I love him.

  “Okay, good. I’m going to go, visiting hours start soon. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up, and I flop onto my sofa.

  I’m staying in my apartment. I lied to Sebastian, things between Trent and me aren’t okay. Yes, I love him and he truly is amazing. Ever since I came home from hospital we’ve not really spoken, I wanted to sleep in my own bed, on my own. Any time Trent gets close, I move away. I don’t understand why I’m doing it, I’m pushing him away, and the more I push the further he seems to pull away.

  I don’t know how I feel about it. The first night home we walked into my apartment and I cried, it looked so different. They had gone out of their way to make sure I felt at home here again. Heller, Peter, Trent, Monica, and Maggie painted my apartment as well as buying loads of new things, including a whole new suite of furniture, a brand new bed, and new sheets. I was overwhelmed, I just needed to be alone to process it, and in wanting that, I hurt Trent. Since then he’s been as distant as I have. Whenever we’re together we sit in silence, and then he’ll go home.

  I turn on the TV, putting on some daytime shows, something that will get my mind off what’s happening between us because my head is spinning, and I have no idea what to do. I love him, and I’m hurting that we’re so distant, but I can’t seem to stop myself from pulling away. I’m mad at him for letting me push him away, I thought he loved me, and the last two days I’ve begun to doubt it. While Ric had us in that house, Trent was my talisman, the thought of seeing him again was all that kept me from losing my damn mind, when I was in hospital, the thought of being home and in his arms kept me from hitting rock bottom and going into my dark place.

  Even though the TV’s on, I can hear the main door to the complex opening. That’s the worst thing about living on the ground floor: everything is magnified, especially with everyone coming and going. No sound of footsteps going up the stairs or the hum of the elevator, so that means whoever’s home is standing in the lobby. My mouth instantly dries at the thought of it being Trent. If it’s him will he go directly into his apartment or will he come over here? A door banging tells me that it was Trent who came home. Tears prick my eyes, God, what the hell is happening with us? Four days ago we were fine, we were happy and in love. Now he doesn’t even want to see me, and that kills me.

  The tears fall, and I let them. Mad that I’m crying. Angry at myself for not getting the hell up off this sofa and going over to Trent’s apartment and sorting things out. But I sit here and stare aimlessly at the TV, crying as I do so. My apartment door opens, and I really regret not locking it. My heart sinks when high heels click against the floor. Oh! It’s not Trent.

  “Michelle?” The husky voice of Dr. Sands filters through the door, and inwardly I sigh; she’s not what I want right now. I’m too fucked up in my own head to sort out the thoughts and try to process them. “Are you okay?”

  Dr. Sands has been to see me five times already, and I’ve been home two days. She told me that I could have flashbacks, whether they would be about what happened with Riccardo or his dad, she can’t be sure. Dr. Sands wants to be on hand to help me talk through them; she’s told me that she can see that I’m retreating into myself. I’m not really present any longer; she believes I’ve checked out. She may be right, but I don’t have it in me right now to see how I can fix things.

  “I’m fine, just tired. Um, can we do this another time?” I swipe away the tears before she reaches me not wanting her to see them and question them. Trent and me, our relationship, isn’t something I want to talk about.

  “Umhm, of course.” Her tone sarcastic as she takes a seat in the armchair. “Michelle, we’ve spoken about this, you’re in denial right now, but I’ve seen the signs, you’re depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed!” I bite back.

  “Okay Michelle, I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I would really appreciate it if you would answer honestly.” I nod, mindful of where this is going. We played this game when she first became my doctor. She takes out a notepad and pen. Then begins to write things down.

  “Are you eating?” She wears a troubled expression, and I don’t want to answer her, but the hard stare and the impatient tapping of the pen against the notepad makes me rethink not answering her.

  “I’m not hungry.” I can’t remember the last time I ate anything of note. A banana or apple doesn’t count, and if I had said that, it would piss her off.

  She nods as she writes things down. “How are you emotionally wise?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  She nods, the way she always does, and I hate it, I have no idea what the hell she’s nodding at. “Okay, are you feeling happy and whole?” I shake my head as a lump forms in my throat. “Okay, what about things with you and Trent?”

  I shrug yet again. “They’re not as they were.”

  “Are you letting him in?” She asks, not in an accusing way, but in a concerned way, and I stare down at my hands. “Why? Michelle why are you not letting him in?”

  “That’s what I don’t understand. I want him here but I don’t know how to have him here.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “What about your thoughts? Are they back into your dark place?”

  I nod, not wanting to admit that my thoughts have drifted back to a place I hate. The place where I feel as though the world would be better off if I weren’t in it. I haven’t told anyone that I’ve been thinking like this. Then again, the only person who actually asks these things is the person being paid to ask them. It should hurt that no one cares enough to ask, but this is the third time I’ve felt like this, and each and every time I’ve been alone, so I really shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Have you been taking your medication?” She frowns as I begin to rub my scar, this is getting too much for me. She knows me, the real me. The one that’s suicidal and hates herself. That is the real me, the happy me doesn’t exist, she’s a fraud, a facade to stop people f
eeling sorry for me.

  Her face softens. “You’re not alone Michelle, you have so many people who want to be here for you. You just have to let them in. They see you, the real you. Not the person you believe you are.”

  “Get out of my head,” I snap, keeping my eyes downcast.

  “Michelle, look at me,” she commands, but I can’t, I don’t want to see the pity and sorrow in her eyes. “Please, Michelle.” Her soft husky voice breaks my resolve.

  I raise my eyes and glance at her. “You need to take that medication. If you believe it’s not helping, you need to talk to me. You need to communicate so that I can change your prescription and try something new.”

  I nod; yes, I should take my meds. “I hate the feeling that taking them means I’m not normal.”

  “I take meds on a daily basis. As do millions around the world. It’s nobody else’s business what meds you’re taking. Even if they’re determined to find out, ensuring your mental well-being is nothing to be ashamed of. Around four hundred and fifty million people suffer with some sort of mental health issue. You are not alone Michelle. You are never alone, you need to let those who love you in and help support you.”

  “You always manage to make me see what you see, but sometimes words aren’t enough.” The apartment door opens, but it doesn’t register fully with me as I continue spilling my guts. “Sometimes, it takes me to hit rock bottom to realize that I want to fight. I don’t have that fight in me right now. I’m drained, I’m alone, sometimes I believe the world will be better off without me.” My voice is void of emotion, I’m numb. The darkness is always here, it’s never going to go away. It’s always going to be there deep down.

  “Michelle, that’s not true, the world won’t be a better place. What about Sebastian and Trent? They love you, and you love them. Don’t you think they’ll hurt if you’re not here?” Dr. Sands asks, she’s panicking.

  I let out a bitter laugh, tears falling but they’re silent so I ignore them. “Seb will be fine, he’s gone years without me.”

  “What about Trent?” I stand and walk away; I don’t want to continue this conversation anymore. “Michelle, what about Trent?”

  I shrug as I walk toward my bedroom. “He doesn’t want me so he’ll be fine. I’m tired, I haven’t been sleeping, I need to sleep.” My eyes are heavy, but even as I say the words, sleep won’t come because my mind is spinning too much for my body to unwind. I don’t care; I crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head.

  “She’s hurting right now, and she needs support.” Dr. Sands’ voice is hard, she’s angry. I can’t really hear as I’ve got the covers over my head, I quickly pull them down, and instantly I’m met with her hushed, angry tone. “You’re letting her push you away, why?” Damn, she’s pissed at Trent, I wish the two of them would just go and leave me alone. I can’t deal with it right now, I don’t have the energy.

  “How can I help her? She’s slipping through my fingers and I have no idea how to get her back. Any time I try to touch her she flinches away from me.” Trent snaps, but then he sighs, and I can picture him running his hands through the little hair he has.

  “Mr. Lawrence, she told you what she went through, what that house is to her, and you’re hurting because she flinches when you touch her? How about you stop being selfish and put yourself in her shoes? Hmm, that woman is deeply scarred, and when she’s finally happy she’s transported back to the worst moments of her life. She needs you to be there for her, you don’t have to touch her, you can talk to her. Tell her about you and what your fears are.” Shit, I hope he’s not mad that I’ve spoken to her about him, that I told her he hasn’t told me much about prison or his life before it. “She loves you, and she’s scared. If you love her, you’ll find a way to break through to her, again.”

  His reply is quiet and gruff, I can’t make out the words. Dr. Sands’ heels click against the floor. They’re still talking, their tones hushed this time so that I can’t make out what they’re saying. I pull the covers back up over my head and pray that they both leave. I close my eyes and just lie here, hoping that something will come to me, pain, happiness, sadness, guilt, anything. Because anything is better than lying here feeling numb. Sometime soon that the numbness is going to wear off, and when it does, my emotions are going to hit me full force, and I don’t believe I have the strength to deal with it.

  The door closes, thank God they’re gone. I can’t handle any more questions right now.

  “Baby?” My heart starts to race as Trent’s deep, gravelly voice calls out. He called me baby. “I can tell you’re awake, so I want you to just listen okay?”

  I don’t acknowledge him, I’m scared. What if he ends this, whatever this is for good?

  “Sometimes, it takes me to hit rock bottom to realize that I want to fight. I don’t have that fight in me right now I’m drained, I’m alone, sometimes I believe the world will be better off without me” Her words replay over and over in my head, those words gutted me. Her saying I don’t want her is a kick in the fucking teeth. I do want her, I want her more than I have ever wanted anyone in this world but she’s pushing me away, and I have no idea what I can do to help her. Every time I touch her, she flinches and pulls away. Anytime I try to talk to her it’s as though she’s not present in the conversation. She’s sitting there, and she’ll be staring at me but her mind has checked out.

  I’m fucking petrified that she’s going to leave me, that she’s going to succumb to the pain and the thoughts and she’s going to try to end her life. That is my biggest fear in life. Michelle is it for me, she’s my one and only, and if she goes, she’ll never be replaced. How do you replace perfection?

  I’ve spoken to Tina and Dad. After what went down with Ric and Michelle, I know that anything can happen and it’s best to let bygones be bygones. After all, they’re both trying their hardest to repair what has been done. They want to meet Michelle but I’ve told them to wait until she’s ready. The last thing we need is for her to retreat even further into herself.

  Dr. Sands is right, I’ve not told Michelle much about me and my life other than why I was sent to prison and how much of a joke my parents were. That needs to change; I need to let Michelle know everything just as she told me her deepest, darkest secrets. I like Dr. Sands. She seems to care about Michelle. She’s told me to stop being a jackass and start supporting Michelle.

  So that’s what I’m about to do. She’s lying in the middle of the bed, covers pulled up over her face. When I told her that I want her to listen, she didn’t say a word but I saw the covers move. Good, she’s listening. I sit on the edge of the bed, hoping that being close to her may get her to come out of the covers.

  “I didn’t have the greatest childhood, but at the same time I didn’t have the worst. Mom and Dad never really showed Tina and me any attention, we were left to our own devices and in doing so, Tina fell into the arms of the first man she met and ended up marrying him. I, on the other hand, did everything I could to rebel although I wasn’t sure what I was rebelling against. The tattoos were done between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. They’re there because they mean something to me. I knew how much my mom disliked them so it gave me something for her to hate other than Tina and me.”

  The bed moves beneath me, and the covers come down off her face. She’s been crying, her beautiful green eyes are wide and watery. “Why does your mom hate you?”

  Her mom has made it clear that she hates Michelle. When I was told that her mom had said she was jealous over Michelle and Eddie, I wanted to hurt her. The first time I have ever wanted to lay hands on a woman, who the fuck gets jealous of a man molesting their daughter? Sick fucking bitch!

  “She never wanted children, and she ended up having two. Before having us she wanted to travel the world and be some sort of rich socialist.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Dad is sort of rich but Mom isn’t. As much as Dad was a pussy when it came to her, he never did let on how much money he had. He worked every day, and that mea
nt Mom was left with Tina and me.”

  “Why did she have the two of you then, especially if she didn’t want kids?” She’s asking questions and sitting up; she’s present in this conversation, and that’s all I wanted. Hopefully, we can talk through what’s going on with her as well and maybe I can get her to see that she does matter. “I don’t understand women who have kids but never wanted them.”

  “Ah, that’s because Dad wanted them, and as much as she hated us, back then she loved my dad and she wanted him to be happy, so she gave him two children. After that, it’s like she lost the love she had for him, and instead she began to resent him, and that turned into hate. We’re all away from her now, and she’s got what she deserves.” I move up the bed so that we’re sitting side by side.

  “I’ve finally managed to forgive Tina and Dad for what happened, and that’s because of you.” She made me realize that holding onto the grudge I have is just holding onto the anger, and that’s not healthy for me, and holding onto that anger intensifies everything.

  “I’m happy for you,” she tells me, but she doesn’t sound happy at all. My girl is having a hard time, and I‘m an asshole for not realizing just how bad things had become.

  “The first week in prison, I was jumped. I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas. I was pissed off at the world, and I got my ass handed to me. That beating was the best thing that ever happened to me.” I can’t believe how stupid I was back then. I deserved what I got, and no doubt, I should have gotten more.

  “Trent, how can you say that?” Her eyes widen with horror, her tone one of shock, at least that monotone voice has gone.