The Expansion of the Universe

Ten | "The perfect balance."

Liza was shaking.

Not that such a thing was odd, considering that nearly everything scared her so damned badly.

Still, she wasn't sure when she'd last quivered so much. She wasn't able to hold anything even when she tried, hence why the shoebox she'd tried to pull from the back of the closet had spilled all over the carpeted floor of the condo's spare bedroom.

She shouldn't have even bothered touching the thing; she knew she wasn't ready to dive into her memories and past thoughts.

Yet here she was, staring right at those memories as the taunted her from where they were spread across the floor.

She was going to vomit again if she didn't move quickly.

But Liza had trekked to the spare bedroom with a purpose, and damnit if she wasn't going to make some more progress, no matter how little.

Swallowing down bile, she called, "Milo." The dog's name was barely a whisper, but he was at her side in the next moment, nudging his head under her hand to encourage her to put him. She did, but his fur, long as it was, did nothing to hide the quivering of her fingers.

Raising her other, hand, she pointed at one of the objects on the carpet—her darkened, dead—phone and croaked, "Milo, hold." The dog was quick in action, plucking up the device gently and eyeing her expectantly.

"Let's go." She stumbled out of the room, choosing to leave the shoebox for another day. If she tried at that moment, she would have broken down entirely.

Barely making it to the living room, Liza collapsed on the couch, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to her chest as though it would keep her from falling apart. She traded a long glance with Milo, who was seated on the ground less than a foot from her, the phone in his mouth and a patient glint in his dark eyes.

Liza knew he would hold onto it for as long as she needed, regardless of how thirsty or hungry or tired he became, because he was just so, so wonderful, and Liza didn't deserve him, but she absolutely was so grateful—

Oh.

She was crying again.

Swiping at her tears with the back of her hand, Liza sucked in a shaky breath.

Everything would be fine.

She didn't have to actually use the phone, right?

This was progress. Just progress. Just a little progress at a time.

The first step was getting the phone from the shoebox, and she had done that.

She didn't even have to charge it or turn it on yet. She simply had to get it from the shoebox and place it in a spot within the house where she would see it regularly. Dr. Whitney had told her that having the phone lying around would help, because having continuous exposure would remind Liza that it wasn't anything to be afraid of.

And, by extension, the people on the other end of the line within the phone weren't scary either.

Liza wasn't so sure about that last point, but she would make progress.

Stretching out a hand that was no longer shaking quite so badly, Liza murmured, "Release." Milo dropped the phone her hand obediently, licking her fingers soothingly before pulling away again.

"Good boy." She stared at the blank screen of the phone. The charger was still in the spare bedroom, mixed in with the mess that she'd made, and it would have to remain there, at least for a little bit.