Error Number: 505

07 - mother in law

Eleanor's POV:

"Breathe. Hey, breathe, Ellie. You're okay. You're just fine," Maria tries to soothe me. But. I feel like I'm going crazy. Like my body's been replaced by a robot. Am I even alive?

"Eleanor," she says, putting her hands on my face. I look at her.

"Why are you moving? What's happening? I'm scared." I start to hyperventilate.

"Oh, honey. Okay. Sit." She sits me in a chair.
"Head between your knees.." she rubs my back.

"You're having a panic attack, but you're also dissociating which is scary. Which.. fuels the attack. I just need you to breathe, baby girl."

"Do you want me to bring Eden in here?" I shake my head.

"She can't see me like this. Not when I'm not myself."

"Okay. Okay. Do you want me to stay? Or do you need space. It's okay to need space."

"Space. Please." She nods.

"Do you want me to come check on you?" I nod.

"Okay, baby girl. 30 minutes work?" I nod.

"Okay. I'll be right outside. If I get called into surgery I'll come in before hand. Mkay? Eden'll be here, though." I nod.

"Okay." She smiles at me before walking out.

"Is she okay?" I hear Eden say. Her voice calms me down. Fuck.

"No," she says.

"Is she gonna be okay? Mom I'm scared. She looked really upset."

"And she is. But she's gonna be just fine, Eden. I assure you. I see it with untreated patients who suffer from ptsd all the time. She's gonna be okay."

"Untreated ptsd.. mom- you don't think she has-"

"She clearly does, Eden. The most you can do is be there for her. At least until she turns 18 and get therapy without her parents."

How much does Eden know?

How the fuck does she know it?

"Mom-"

"Eden. You can't fix this. I know you're a perfectionist and I know you like to be in control. But this you cannot. This isn't some math problem you can find the solution to."

"But-"

"There's no buts. Buttercup, I know you're worried. I understand. But I need you to just be there for her. Okay? If she doesn't ask you for help, don't give it. Unless she's drowning."

"She is!"

"She is not. She's in the early stages of PTSD."

"But why don't we just help now, mom! I don't understand! Why don't we treat it now!"

"Because we can't, Eden. We cannot. We can't send her to therapy because she's probably on her parents insurance. She's a minor. Until then, it's a done deal. If her parents won't put her in therapy, we can't."

"But what if-"

"Eden. Buttercup. Stop. Stop."

"Momma," she says, voice breaking.

"I know. I know." Tears fall on my face. She cares. She actually cares.

I cling onto my dress in hopes neither of them hear me start to sob.

Maria's POV:

I'm going to her parents house.

Irrational thought of mine. I know. But, I need to get this girl some help. And I know her parents know about it. What's happening to her.