All Too Unwell

And You Deserve Prison

TW: Emma, mentions of death, OCD, suicidal thoughts

this is so bad I've been having writer's block 

I stay in the suite with Charlotte, trying to figure out the hotel TV. The default is the news channel, and as I am trying to set up Netflix, I hear something that I can't ignore. I hear my ex girlfriend's name. Memories flood back, like high tide pulling me under. The weight of them is too strong, and as much as I try to stay grounded, I am violently pulled under. Whenever I think about her, I can't breathe. She is on my TV screen, videoed in handcuffs. The news anchor says something along the lines of her drunkenly crashing into Sofia's car. Rage rises in me as I throw the remote. "How could you do that to someone?" I ask. "How could you?" I scream as I start sobbing. I'll never understand why some people are capable of such things. Part of me worries that I'm capable of them, too. 

Was it my fault Emma did that? She always said I made her mad and made her do bad things. Wait, no. What if I catastrophize so much that I made something bad happen? Did I manifest this by maladaptive daydreaming? Scenarios of death pop up in my head. Why did I think that? Do I want to hurt people? 

I feel the panic building up, suffocating me from the inside out. "Hey, what's wrong?" Charlotte asks, approaching me and sitting on the bed. When I don't answer, she pulls me into a hug. "What's on your mind?" she asks, rubbing my back. "Was it my fault that Emma did that? Did I make her so angry that she-" I struggle as the words lie stuck in my throat as it swells with sadness. I hesitate to tell her what's going on for two reasons:

1. She's going through this too, and she may not be in a place to give me support

2. I'm horrified of explaining these thoughts to someone. Maybe she'll decide that I'm a monster too. 

"Sorry. I'm Sorry. You're going through this too, I shouldn't make you deal with this," I sniffle, my face still buried in Charlotte's chest. 

"Hey, Emma's actions are not your fault. You didn't drive that car drunk, she did." Charlotte replies, always being the calm and logical one of us. As Charlotte holds me in her arms, I feel sleep taking over me. Before I know it, my body relaxes completely and everything goes black.

When I wake up, I am lying in the middle of the woods. No matter which direction I turn, the path is the same. Suddenly, a figure approaches me. As she comes closer, I can see that she has Emma's features but had black eyes, abysses of endless evil. I am rooted to the ground, unable to run. "Miss me?!" Emma asks, grabbing my arm. I try to tell her to let go, to fight. But my lips won't move and I'm frozen. I see a family and try to scream for help, but no sound comes out. I feel utterly helpless. My lungs are shattered and burning, irreversibly broken from my unheard cries for help. 

Before I know it, Emma has successfully dragged me to a car. "Let's drive! There's a park with mountains and a great view," she says, smiling at me sweetly. At first, she drives cautiously, but much like our relationship, the longer I was there, the worse she got. The speedometer flashes 140 miles per hour as the rev of the engine rung in my ears, only slightly drowning out Emma's yelling and insults. 

She drives through the trail, over people's stalled bikes, and over bushes. She drives towards a person at the edge of a cliff. I try to tell her to stop, but the words are stuck in my throat and I'm paralyzed in fear as everything happens in slow motion. The girl turns around at the last minute, and she looks like Sofia. Cornered, she jumps off of the cliff. 

"NO! STOP!" I scream, only regaining my voice a moment too late. I watch as Sofia falls down the cliff, into an ever-widening abyss of darkness. 

I feel someone gently shaking me and rubbing my arms. "Mirabelle, sweetie. You need to wake up," I hear a soft voice that I can identify as Taylor's. Was Taylor in on my friend's murder? "Murderer! I knew good people didn't exist. You were in on this the whole time?" I yell, not caring that I'm acting insane. One of my friends just died and the person I've been trusting the most was in on it. 

"Baby, it's a dream. You're safe right now," Taylor pulls me into her arms, cradling the back of my head with her hand and rubbing my back with the other. I open my eyes and see the hotel suite; the memory of me falling asleep here is so hazy. The dream felt so real. The guilt causes my heart to race so quickly that I think I'm going to die. I'd rather die than feel this guilty for one more minute. I know it may change Taylor and Charlotte's opinions of me, but I have to say it. 

"It's my fault. I think of disasters all of the time, I made Emma mad," I trail off gasping for the air that was becoming rarer and rarer.

"Sweetheart, you didn't drive drunk. Emma is responsible for her actions, even if she was angry with you. You didn't make her do that, she was obviously just a terrible person. It's not your fault sweetie, not at all. Don't even think that for one second," Taylor says, her voice slightly soothing my nerves. She continues to rock me in her arms, her grip not loosening in the slightest. She keeps murmuring sweet nothings every so often. 

I fall asleep in her arms, hopefully not to another nightmare.