Back to you and me - Larry

CHAPTER TEN

I cried myself to sleep last night, quietly and without disturbing anyone, but now I'm hysterical and having a meltdown as I throw whatever I can throw and break whatever I can break.

"Louis!"

I ignore whoever speaks—more than one person is coming in now. I think I might be rambling about time travel, about not seeing my shooting star and not being able to save Harry—it's going to ruin me in a way I've never been ruined.

I'm losing my mind, but then I'm losing my strength—needless to say, someone has stuck a needle in me—and being helped into my bed so I can sleep some more. I think Anna might be stroking my hair, but I'm out too quickly to properly tell.

I'm sent directly to therapy when I wake up—once I've had my cereal—so now I'm sitting on a couch with a pillow in my lap. My therapist looks kind, but it's distracting that her glasses keep slipping down my nose so she needs to push them back up.

"Anna told me you were talking about time travel."

"Are you always my therapist?"

"I am," she says. "Do you wanna tell me about the time travel?"

"Not really," I say, twisting my ring—it has become a habit. "I would rather talk about my meds."

"Your meds?"

"I hate the way they make me feel."

"How do they make you feel?"

"Sleepy. Empty."

"Empty?"

"Like... I can't explain it, okay? This morning I was angry and overwhelmed and devastated, but now I'm not feeling anything."

"Is there anything particular you want to feel?"

"My loved ones are dropping one by one, but I can't feel anything. I want... I need to be broken and ruined and... everything that comes with grieving. But how am I supposed to heal when you won't let me grieve?"

"It's not that we won't let you grieve, Louis. It's that it's been a year since you lost your husband, but you keep ending up here because you can't move on. The meds are necessary until you're not throwing tantrums anymore."

"One tantrum shouldn't be enough to put me back on meds. Have you ever considered that I might only have one tantrum? Or are you gonna keep giving me drugs every time I shed a tear? I lost my husband, but you won't let me cry or scream or feel."

"I'm not sure what to tell you," she says, pushing her glasses up again. "This is how it's supposed to be right now. I would really rather you told me about the time travel."

"Fine," I say, pulling my legs up so I can cross them on the couch. "I've been going back in time to get Harry back."

"Tell me more."

I tell her everything she wants to know, beginning to end because I need to tell someone, need to let it out despite knowing she won't believe me one bit. "I'm scared this is real, because I never meant to... to kill him... or something."

"Louis, I can tell you're not messing around. And I understand that you think you can't remember anything, that you think this isn't your reality, but you're also sick and working through a trauma. Time travel doesn't exist, but you're convinced otherwise because your imagination has convinced you otherwise. It can be hard to understand, but this is a reaction your mind has created to protect you, but it isn't real, Louis. It's important that you understand that, because otherwise, you won't get better."