His Little Heart

Let's Start With Today

Journal entry 1, November 1st, 2026, written by Luna Weathers and granted permission to be read by Dr. Thomas Hiddleston

Dear Journal,

It's been roughly three months since I've come to this place, this hospital, this behavioral health pavilion, since that night where everything changed. Three months since emergency services were called, blue and red lit the sky, and I first met Dr. Hiddleston. Three whole months since I left the hellhole of the home that was anything but, a prison that housed monsters and left scars on me that, despite what everyone's telling me, don't believe will fix what's broken in me. Three months since that call was made, an investigation was made, and I became homeless, but, because of ongoing circumcisions, placed me under the care and legal guardianship of this hospital. Three months since I lost my mind and disappeared, spiraled down, down, down, and my damn anxiety got the absolute best of me.

Three months.

A lifetime.
   
Who knew so much could happen in such a short span of time? Who knew how much could change, how much could be revealed. How what I thought to be normal could become something entirely different, and reveal what I'd been through wasn't at all normal. That, through the ongoing years and exposure to the monsters responsible for my well-being, made me believed was acceptable and I, rightfully deserved. That I deserved, was placed just so, to be theirs, their perfect girl to cherish and treat older than I was, to bruise, kiss, force–

No.

Not yet, Luna. Don't go there. Not yet. That is too soon, too fresh. Those wounds, although bandaged and revealed, are still bleeding, crimson red. They've not stopped the blood flow. And, maybe, never will be. Careful, Luna. You don't want another dressing change, not now. You had one earlier and I don't think the nurses will appreciate giving you another one. You know how difficult you make dressing changes, bleeding, crying, fighting, and lying to them that nothing's wrong. You made a mistake, you adore telling them, you always do, and become stubborn in demanding they stay away. You make up excuses, excuses you know they don't buy for a minute. And then, once you start crying because you're upset (or maybe embarrassed yourself) they stay with you because you have suddenly become unsafe and your care plan requires it, a care plan you want desperately to burn but know, if you did, they'd just print another. They sure do love their copy machine, don't they? They need new hobb–!

Right.

I'm stopping that train of thought there before I throw this stupid yellow notebook out the window. We're perfectly fine. Perfectly fine. Yes. Breathe, you. Breathe! Let's reel ourselves in and remember what we learned in our last few sessions with Dr. Hiddleston, not to spiral again and obsesses over what's already been said and done and maybe, won't ever leave us....

Luna.

Right.

Where was I before stupid memory lane tried to drag me down again?

Oh, yes.

Three months.

It's been three whole months since I've landed up here. Three whole months, a total of 90 days. Roughly thirteen weeks, give or take. And, good grief. Where do I possibly begin in even trying to explain all that went down, or, perhaps, all that went up in flames. I mean, maybe that night where everything began, or maybe when I first met Dr. Hiddleston. Or, I called Dr. Cumberbatch the p word because he made a bad mistake, but, apologized for it afterwards, guilty as charged. Or, where I took a tour of this place, had my first meal, spent several nights in the emergency ward, took a shower terrified out of my wits afraid someone would see me? Maybe, I can start with sharing how I learned Dr. Hiddleston and Dr. Cumberbatch, worried and professionally obligated, launched an investigation against the place that was never my home. How they made a home visit and from that one home visit, everything unraveled, everything exploded. No, no. I'm trying to move on from that and revisiting it so soon won't help me. Not now. Not yet.

Later, we'll talk about the past.

When I'm a little more ready.

For now.....

Today.

I can start with today, perhaps the start of a new chapter in my new home. Today, where, in just a little while, Nurse Harry will get me and take me to lunch, and then, he'll take me to see Dr. Hiddleston. Today, yes. I can talk about today and what hasn't happened yet, but, for the last few days, have been expecting. Today, where a new care plan will be discussed because my current plan isn't working as well as they'd hoped and both he and Dr. Cumberbatch believe I could greatly benefit from it, a new therapeutic approach to help settle my anxiety and cope with my past. Something both of them specialize in, a special intervention, whatever it is. Whatever I had promised to hear about and consider, and, if believed hopeful to help, give it a shot.

Today.

Let me focus on today and whatever is soon to happen, this discussion that will soon unfold. Yesterday already happened and tomorrow is not here yet. There is no point in dwelling on what we can't change, what has already happened. Maybe, who knows, as we continue through the start of this new chapter, I'll find the strength to share more of my story I'm too afraid to confront yet. In time, maybe, I'll see what really happened to me, find the courage to share it with others. But, today is today, and today is not over yet.

Tomorrow will come, certainly.

Yesterday is history.

Today, as I've heard some say, is a gift.

So, yes. Let us focus on today. Let's look at the time and, oh! Nurse Harry will be here soon. I've perhaps ten minutes before his pink scrubs appear, which should be plenty to sit and calm myself. I'll come back tomorrow – depending on how the rest of today goes – and, if I feel up to it, start proper on detailing whatever is next for me. A new story for me is about to begin, and well, I do enjoy a little story.

Well,
Until next time,
Luna.