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ONE YEAR LATER
"Let me know when you want to get out of the car." Ethan speaks softly after a few minutes of silence. "Or if perhaps today's not the day. That's fine too." He is looking over at me from the driver's seat, drawing invisible patterns on the back of my trembling hand. He seems to be reading me through my demeanor and falls back into silently soothing me with little touches.
I am beyond thankful that Ethan has made a full recovery. It has been long, we have struggled for months after the incident. Surgeries, blood transfers, you name it, Ethan's been through it. It was rather miraculous, but he's here, with me. And I pray to God, the universe, anyone who is willing to grand my wish. Ethan will be with me until death do us apart. I want nothing more.
With my father finally behind bars after a rather easy court with all the proof that we managed to gather, and Noah dead. Lexi's buried in a cemetery in her hometown, not far from here. I haven't visited her, nor her parents. I want to, but that is a milestone for another day. Thanks to a plea deal, which included his testimony and full honesty, Reed is currently serving a short jail sentence for his acts of blaming it on Ethan. I want to visit him with Ethan, but he needs a little more time. And I will wait, for as long as he needs me to.
It's just Ethan and Brooklyn now, enjoying each other's company. Healing, together. We have no threats in the form of family left. We can live like fairly normal human beings, for what it is worth.
Ethan's fought hard, he has been through a lot these past couple of years, more than any innocent human being could bear. And yet, he manages to be my comfort through it all. It makes me feel stupid and guilty. Aren't I supposed to be the one that should be stronger? Aren't I supposed to be picture perfect, as an aspiring psychologist? In all honesty, I am still having a hard time accepting that I'm mentally troubled too. Ethan and I are both seeing the same therapist, we're having individual and combined sessions and it's been helpful. We are not quite there yet. It might take some time.
And I am willing to learn to give myself time and space. To let myself feel. To struggle. To cry.
Still learning.
I slightly move into my seat, staring ahead as I feel tears prickling in my eyes. Still, after all this time. It seems like I can't help myself. I can't even fucking visit my mother's grave. It has been almost five years, and I haven't stepped a foot on this graveyard. I haven't even been able to bring her some flowers, to make sure her grave is prettier than ever, because she deserves nothing less.
"Hey, hey." Ethan speaks again. "Don't do that to yourself."
"Don't do what?" I involuntarily act oblivious, but my trembling voice gives it away.
"Getting mad at yourself for struggling, for overthinking. Forcing yourself to not cry. Daisy, don't do that to yourself." His voice is a mere whisper. Soft, touching my heart and soul with its tenderness. Even if I hear it for the rest of my life, I'll never get over the fact that people like him still exist. People that are patient with people like myself. People that are broken themselves, but healers too.
