Two hearts.
Two souls.
One child.
A brave man, working hard to give the best life to his family.
A selfish woman, who hasn't really come to terms to her new reality.
She leaves.
He stays.
What happens when she decides to come back?
Will she be able...
After everything I witnessed, after all of these decisions All these miles, feet, inches They can't add up to the distance That I have been through, just to get to A place where even if there's no closure, I'm still safe I still ache from trying to keep pace Somebody give me a sign, I'm starting to lose faith
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DELILAH
4 months later...
I tapped my feet on the ground, glanced over at the wall. The time in this place always dragged on and I never seemed to make any progress. A bored exhale left my lips and Doctor Mitchell shook her head.
"In order to get better you need to talk," she said, closing her notebook. "How are the nightmares?"
"The usual. Lifeless eyes looking back at me. My fiance nearly dead on the ground. At least the corpses have stopped trying to grab me."
She sighed, shaking her head. "How is Liam doing? Is he better?"
No.
"Yeah. He's better."
Liar.
"And Adrian?"
Wakes up screaming every night.
"He's okay too."
Doctor Mitchell looked at the time before glancing back at me, her eyes so sad and compassionate... Like she understood what I'd been through. She didn't, I didn't think anyone ever would.
"Well, I think the time is up, isn't it. How are you feeling with the progress we've made?" I asked sarcastically.
"Next session I'd like for Liam and you to come in together. Does that work?"
Nope.
"Sure."
"One last question: How are you bonding with your baby?"
The one question I wouldn't lie about. I lowered my gaze, feeling ashamed. "It's hard."
We'd gone over this time and time again. She said it wasn't my fault, that the trauma had been so severe that it may be hard for me to bond, for me to ever go back to being 'normal.' I couldn't help feeling guilty though.
I had PTSD. Liam had lucked out, in a being wounded 'physically but not that much psychological' kind of way. I had the blessing of nightmares and being frightened by any loud noise.
And the curse of not being able to carry our four month old son without remembering that day.
I drove past the salon, the one I hadn't been to in months. No matter how much I tried to get back into the rhythm of things it was as if a part of me had been lost; the happy part, the part that cared for living. I was dragging everyone down with me.
