Save Me

Chapter 24: Broken Pieces

TRIGGER WARNING- Read at your own risk!

Erika
I always waited for that time to come again. When you fall so deep into the dark hole that you're greeted with two options: tell someone or just end it all. I chose the latter when I was fifteen. That didn't work which is how, for some god-forsaken reason, I'm still alive. Physically, at least.

You think that when you get so close to death that it transforms you and scares you into submission. That is true, for the first few moments afterward. Then you realize you're still stuck, so far below the surface that you can't even swim up. You're still stuck in the shell of nothingness and living in limbo. And then you wonder if it would've been worth it, if you had succeeded.

I did try the medication. It wasn't a cure. It just made the day just a little more manageable. But then it lost its effect over time. Either that, or I just fell further into the hole. And then, everything shifted from a world of color to one of shades of gray.

Then I had him. That little bit of light. That flash of color. That small beacon of hope. That single rope to help me climb out of the dark hole. That bit of assurance that I was going to be okay.

And I let him go.

And now I was back to my old, drowning self.

I just wanted to curl up and hide from everyone. Just lay there and not move.

Instead, I was sitting on my bed, waiting for Sophia to call me down. We spent all of yesterday packing my stuff and looking at what we were actually allowed to bring. Some tops, some bottoms, shoes, pajamas, and underwear - the essentials. We also spent the day removing the mirrors from my makeup and the shoelaces from my shoes. My dad convinced my therapist at the facility to allow me to bring my guitar. They came to the compromise that I would only use it under supervision. I also brought my laptop so my family could communicate with me through email because I won't have my phone.

I heard Sophia's voice and got out of bed and put on my backpack and dragged my suitcase in one hand and my guitar case in another hand. I didn't bother to change my clothes, or do any hygienic care. I just wanted to do what I had to do and be left alone.

I trudged down the stairs and to the black SUV.

I was the last one inside. Blair, Connor, Sophia, Terry, Isobel, and my dad were already ready. Cole slid the door closed behind me and got in the driver's seat. We pulled away from the curve, along with the black SUV of bodyguards behind us.

I quickly nestled up to go to sleep, because when you sleep, you don't think.

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Everyone left an hour ago and they were giving me space to settle in. I guess that means accept the fact you'll be stuck in this prison for a while until you can prove you're somewhat sane.

I guess the privilege I've received since birth extends even into mental institutions. Coming from an affluent, famous, white family means that I get only the highest of the institution's caliber. So I got the largest room they had - which was only a little smaller than my room back home - with my own bathroom. I was also the only teen patient that didn't have a roommate. It sounded great, but I felt bad for all the other kids who had to share even smaller rooms. But of course, only the best for Erika Kingsley.

They told me I should unpack my stuff while I waited to meet my therapist for the first time. I got up and unzipped my suitcase. I started pulling out the clothes and then I saw a tear drop onto the white shirt I was holding. The shirts fell from my hand, and I sat on the bed, crying.