The Distance Between Us

Seven.

I closed the door to the building on my way out of therapy. It has been two months since I was kidnapped, tortured, and found. I had to stay at the hospital for about two weeks due to the severity of the multiple concussions I received from Joel.

I missed a lot of schoolwork, but considering everything that happened, my professors were forgiving and I was able to catch up, even though I barely paid attention to anything anymore. I was horrified from the events that I went through, so horrified that I was having nightmares every single night and I would wake up screaming. I felt bad because Elle was always there for me since we were back at our dorm together. Even though Elle said she didn't care about being woken up and comforting me, I still felt horrible deep down that I was becoming a burden to everyone in my life.

My parents are always worried about me, my friends are always near me and won't let me out of their sight unless I'm literally in the bathroom or out with Cillian. Even Cillian has become very protective and walks me to my dorm and makes sure Elle is there so that he knows I'm safe and he can go back to his dorm.

I feel like I've become a child and can't be left unsupervised without them thinking that something bad is going to happen to me. I don't blame them though, I would without a doubt do the same if the roles were switched around.

I was very stubborn at first to accept the fact that I needed therapy because I was scared. Everyone tried to convince me that it would help me, but I always denied it and tried to make it seem like I was okay, but in reality I was rotting on the inside.

I couldn't help but think about what would've happened if I was never found. Would I even still be alive? What if I didn't make it out that day? I made up all of these scenarios in my mind and would bury myself deeper into a pit that led to a terrible depression that made me lose my appetite. I had looked like skin and bone for some time before I was made aware by my friends that I desperately needed help, and I had felt so weak that I finally gave in and found a therapist on campus.

I have to admit, the therapist has been helping me out mentally, but I still have moments when I think about what happened and I spiral into another wave of depression.

I haven't been going to the band sessions with my friends, but luckily Cillian knows how to play the guitar so he has been covering for me while I arch them perform. Even though I would have rather stayed at the dorm at the comfort of my own bed, my friends all forced me to go since there would be nobody to watch me while they performed.

Cillian has been there for me every step of the way, and I know I should be feeling better by now, but it's like my body will not let me go back to life before everything had happened.

Cillian had been sitting at a bench nearby the office of the therapist waiting for me, and I immediately smiled once our eyes met. As I approached Cillian, he got up from the bench and wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace. The musky scent of his cologne filling my nose as the warmth radiating from his body brought me a sense of comfort and safety.

"How did it go?" Cillian looked down towards me, patiently waiting for my response.

"It went well I guess. I would like to think that I'm making progress." Cillian gave me a kiss on my forehead, causing a rush of blood to flood my cheeks. I hid my face into the crook of his neck as a smile emerged on my face. Cillian gave a light chuckle and hugged me just a little tighter.

"You're adorable. I also think that you have made significant progress from when you started, and I applaud you for being so strong during all of it." I mumbled a small 'thank you' that came out muffled since I was still hiding my face due to the redness of my cheeks. It amazed me that Cillian still had this effect on me even after all of this time.