Trying To Heal

Chapter Sixteen

April Levesque

"Careful," she warns tenderly. "You are still sore and in pain."

I survey my body veiled in a thin dressing gown, the tubes entwining my arms. The bandages. The nurse thoroughly explicates; the memories crash onto me like a heavy, suffocating cloud.

Derek's birthday party. Camila De La Cruz. Destiny Byrne. Aasvhi Varma. The argument with Treyvon Mensah. The panic attack. I ran outside like a maniac with a knife enshrouded in the sleeve of my red dress. Luke found me and demanded I head back, to help me, all for it to be ludicrously lost in a car crash. I was in a coma for a month and a half. The car crash damaged two of my ribs. It healed rapidly during slumber, although it still requires more time. A few crushed nerves. A wound to the head.

A lone tear seeps and treks. The doctor flicks it off. "You are safe now." The way he promised it sounded as if it had a quadruple meaning. He confirms it, "From everyone and everything."

The police would like to talk to me. I ask him why; he responds with the same promise. My thoughts involuntarily drift to —

They know.

Why do I feel insecure about that?

As if he can read my thoughts, or visibly read my confusion,: "Derek was the first to find out. He told me that if you are not ready to come forward yet, that is fine. He advises this to be solved at your right time."

Your right time.

"Would you like me to inform your family and friends that you woke up?"

"I ... Can I have a day to myself first?"

"Certainly." He stands from the bed. "I will do a check on you today, then. Are you feeling hungry?"

The next morning, the window exposed a cluster of pigeons. Gaping at the bedside table of gifts, flowers, presents and chocolates I munched on, the door flies open for the first set of visitors.

Jasmine freezes in the doorway, in disbelief. Before I can attempt a smile, Naila breaks into a sprint and Ines smashes me into her chest.

"Hi, hi, ow."

"Shit." Ines lets me go and laughs. "Sorry, I—"

She stops. We both maintain a gaze, then burst out laughing. Ecstatic tears flood her cheeks. She hugs me again, my face pressed into her neck. I feel Naila's arms encompass us. Hushed footsteps approach and Jasmine joins in. My nostrils are stormed by their strong perfumes.

"You look disgusting," says Naila.

"Your chocolates are making me look better, though." I am the first to break off, the smile straining. "I'm sorry—"

"Do not think of apologising. You did nothing wrong."

I release a small breath of relief and gratitude. "I'm still sorry—"

"I will slap you if you say that again."

"Don't do that again, please," says Ines. "We don't want to lose you."

"As cliche as this sounds," says Jasmine, "we are here for you."

"Okay. So ... what did I miss?"

I do not want to go into the depth of the other encounters. Merely reflecting on it is too draining, sending me into another anxious wave of overthinking.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry."

She hugged me. I felt her tears on my hair. "Don't say sorry. It's not your fault. Please don't do that again. If anything is happening, you can always tell me. You know that, don't you?"