I'll Be Seeing You

Eleven.

The first two weeks home from the hospital were harder than I'd imagined. The nightmares didn't stop—in fact, they came more frequently, like they were trying to claw their way out of me. Most nights, I found it easier to just stay awake than risk falling back to sleep and landing in the same terrifying dream. It was like my subconscious had a replay button stuck on the worst night of my life.

Most of the time, I'd wake up on my own—tears slipping silently down my cheeks, my body trembling like a leaf in a storm. It always took a few minutes to remind myself it wasn't real. Just a dream. Just another echo of the trauma. But a few nights were worse—nights where Mark had to wake me up, hold me, and stay until I calmed down. I hated that part the most. Not the nightmares... but the thought that I was screwing up his sleep, making his life harder. He never complained though. Typical Mark.

Every morning, once I could finally drag myself out of bed, Rene would help me shower, then we'd eat lunch together, play board games, binge-watch old TV shows, and talk about everything and nothing. I still wasn't cleared to leave the house—doctor's orders—so I'd basically become a hermit. The only times I'd left the house since the accident were for follow-up appointments. And God, I missed the little things. Driving up to the mountains to talk about life with Rene. Going on Saturday fishing trips with Mark. Laughing until my stomach hurts. The way it used to be.

Things with Kasey were still... weird. Awkward. We hadn't seen each other since that afternoon in the hospital, but I tried to stay in touch—texts, quick calls, little check-ins. Facetiming like we used to was nearly impossible with Rene always around, and to be honest, I was soaking up every minute with my best friend. Her vacation was ending soon, and I knew once she went back to work, the house would feel ten times quieter.

The silver lining? Kasey had finally backed off. No more pressure about me moving in. No guilt trips. No endless questions about where we stood. Things were—oddly—calm. Like how they used to be, back when we were sneaking around and everything felt electric and simple. I think she finally understood that I was serious about needing change. And for once, she was treading lightly.

I won't lie—the distance was kind of nice. It gave me space to think. And in that space, I realized just how much I missed her. As angry as I'd been, as hurt as I felt... I still craved her. Her touch. Her voice. Her presence. That girl had some kind of hold on me, and no amount of space could loosen it. We weren't where I wanted us to be, but I still had hope that we could get there. 

After the weekend, Rene had to head back to work. She offered to stay longer, of course, but I insisted she go. I'd be fine—and I needed to prove that to myself too. Besides, she wasn't going far. I already knew she'd be at my door every evening after work, probably overstaying her welcome until I practically shoved her back out for sleep.

Mark, on the other hand, went into full overprotective mode. Before he left for his shift on Monday morning, he made sure everything was spotless and in perfect order. He prepped meals for the entire week, labeled and stacked in the fridge. He even wrote instructions on sticky notes, like I didn't know how to microwave a casserole. And every evening, he planned to come home with takeout from one of our favorite spots, just in case I didn't feel like eating what he'd already cooked. Honestly... I didn't deserve either of them. But I was grateful. More than I could ever explain.

It was kind of nice having so much time to myself. I'd tried that once before during my vacation, but then Kasey came into the picture—and suddenly, every moment of alone time turned into shared time. Not that I was complaining. I enjoyed every second of it. 

Still, it felt good to have a little peace and quiet. Just me, a fuzzy blanket, a good book, and the TV humming softly in the background. Before I knew it, I'd finished that book and cracked open the next—and just like clockwork, Mark walked through the door with dinner in hand.