Broken || Little Mix ||

Chapter 40 - E

I open my laptop, leaning back in my chair and getting ready for my second therapy session this week. My eyes sweep across the mess that my room is. The rest of the flat isn't much better. If Perrie were to walk in now she'd be appalled at the state of things. Dirty clothes, empty junk wrappers and used dishes are strewn about the place, covering every surface. I haven't had much motivation to clean. Actually, I haven't had much motivation to do anything lately.

Because Dr Richards still works out of the Newcastle area, all of our sessions are being done through FaceTime. This, combined with the fact that I have no work obligations and that I've been able to properly avoid everyone by saying I haven't been feeling up to things, means I haven't left the flat in the entire two weeks since I've been back. I've come to the realization that I can have everything I need, groceries included, delivered to my door and never have to deal with the paps who have turned the sidewalk outside of the building into their own personal camping grounds. No matter what Dr Richards says, she can't argue against the fact that just stepping outside right now, a once simple idea, has turned into a traumatizing nightmare but she isn't happy about my self-induced isolation. I'm meant to go to group sessions at a local center but I keep making excuses as to why I can't go.

The only social interactions I've been having lately other than her has consisted of Sam, the girls, my ma and the odd friend here and there that I've managed to convince to get weed for me. My days have consisted of waking up and spending the day watching Netflix and scrolling through my phone, which hasn't been helpful. I'm not allowed to be active on social media. I can't post, can't like anything, can't even watch anyone's story because then they could see I was online. Despite this, I find myself scrolling through the feeds, delving deep into all of the fan speculation as to what's going on with me. Some of them are so accurate that it's scary.

Since being home for two weeks I've lost six pounds despite my lack of physical activity. It probably can be attributed to my lack of calorie intake. I've also relapsed in terms of self-harming. I've effectively managed to fully numb myself between that, the weed and the wine I've been able to have delivered to the flat.

My attention gets drawn back to my computer screen as it fills up with the incoming call from Dr Richards. Sighing and throwing my hair into it's now usual messy bun, I answer the call wishing I were more stoned for this. Her face fills up the screen, wearing her usual therapeutic smile that I find more aggravating than anything else.

"Hey Jade, how are you doing today?" she asks. Her usual pen is cradled in her hand despite the fact that she doesn't usually take notes during the session, instead opting to make an odd note here and there and give me her full attention.

"Absolutely lovely, can't you see how my skin is glowing?" I mumble sarcastically. She takes the attitude in stride though.

"Any progress on making it out of the flat?"

She takes my lack of response as an answer and sighs a bit. "Jade you can't stay holed up forever. Have you given any thought to coming back home for a bit?"

It's my turn to sigh now. This was a topic that we debated for at least ten minutes during our last session that resulted in me yelling at her to drop it. "No. I haven't and I'm not going to."

"If you were to come home you'd be more comfortable. You'd be free to leave the house, you'd be surrounded by family, you'd be able to attend sessions in person-," she starts.

"And I'd also be haunted everywhere I went by the memories of Karl. We went over this. I'm not ready for that. Can we move on?"

"Okay. I won't push it. Have you been consistent with your meds?"

"Yeah," I lie, with the memory of me flushing the bottle of antidepressants down the toilet the second Sam dropped them off in my head. The only meds I kept were the sleeping pills, not like they work, and the Xanax to help with my panic attacks. The bottle says take one every four to six hours as needed. Technically, that means I can take one every four hours and not be breaking doctors orders.