Don't Lose Sight of Me

9

I had no idea what time it was. The curtains were pulled over the windows sealing me in darkened room. I didn't remember how long it had been that I stared at the wall where the covered windows were. Books and journals were spread across my side of the bed in order to help me jog my memory. It had been a little over a week since I had woken up. And I had shut myself in the guest room away from everything. Some days I never left the room. Sometimes I didn't bother eating, I wasn't hungry. Steve gave me space, but tried his best to come in and interviene. I turned him away, over and over again. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want him seeing me.

Most days I'd sleep, a dreamless sleep, and wake up scared and alone. And when I was awake everything ached. My head hurt with all the voices and noises of the world. My stump of a leg ached, and was endlessly sore. It was swollen and gross and I hated seeing it. My body itself felt broken, I was weak, and so incredibly empty. It hurt even when I couldn't feel anything, or maybe it hurt because I was feeling too much. I couldn't do anything, I couldn't. Getting out of that bed seemed like a task I couldn't do unless I absolutely had to. I hadn't spoken a word to anyone in days. I hadn't eaten a full meal in months. I hadn't walked outside on my own since before the accident. I had shut myself in because I couldn't possibly cope.

I was disgusted with myself, but still not motivated enough to do something about it. I was fine wasting away. I was tired of feeling awful, I was tired of feeling empty and exhausted. I was so exhausted of the constant pain I was in. At one point the only thing I was motivated to do was to end it all. I figured a thousand ways to do the deed.

One day, when I figured that was it. I was done. I pulled the covers over myself and squeezed my eyes shut. I don't know how long I laid there perfectly still when I heard the door open. I heard the shuffling of the books and journals being tossed off the bed. And then the bed dipped down with the weight of a man I once knew. He kissed my shoulder and pulled me to his chest. The warmth from his body was something I used to know.

"I love you," he whispered into my ear. He kissed the back of my neck and if I had hair he would have started to play with it. "I love you," he told me over and over until I started to cry.

His grip around my middle tightened and he pulled me even closer to him. My body shook with sobs and he absorbed them all. My nose was runny and my tears were soaking down his old shirt and down the bed and he turned me and wiping them off. I pushed him away and he leaned closer.

"Anna it's okay. I'm here, and I will never leave you." He promised me and I remembered kissing him and promising the same a life time ago. I gripped the front of his shirt and curled my body into his.

'Go away.' I told him in his head because I don't think I could have said it outloud. I haven't spoken to anyone in days. His posture sank at my request.

'I'm not leaving,' he argued answering me in his own head.

'Go.'

'No.'

'Steve,'

'I'm here,'

'Steve,'

'We can do this. Let me help you, you cannot live like this Anna,' And maybe one day he'll know how truly empty and desperate I was that day he pulled me into his arms. Maybe he already did.

'Just leave me alone.'

'I can't, you're worrying me too much. You look like you're starving, you smell like you're already half dead. You look paler than a piece of paper. You're a complete mess. And it's time to fix that.' Wow. How motivating.

'Tomorrow." I whispered outloud. Steve's body jolted at hearing my voice for the first time in a week. He glanced down at me, and the corners of his mouth lifted just a bit. His eyes were bright, and he almost relaxed. He was hopeful for the first time in months.