Alone Together. [An OM&M FanFic]

Chaper 40: I'm In A Zombie State Of Mind.

Hannah.

It's been two weeks, TWO weeks since I've actually been able to sleep through a whole night. I always have these nightmares, and it's usually about the same thing, but always with a sad and horrific outcome that wakes me up in a cold sweat with my heart begging to be allowed to jump from my chest.

What mad it worse? The fact that I've not heard from the guys since that night Grams told me they'd called.

How could they not call me? What happened to sticking together? Coming to visit me? Staying in touch? There was nothing!

I rubbed my eyes hard with the heel of my hand and sniffled as I tried to block out the mental hardships from my dream. I miss them all so much already, and these nightmares don't help, at all.

Therapy should be helping, but after the conclusion of me NOT budging during our sessions, and when I scarcely did I'd have a freak out, my Doc decided pills would help. Yup, meds..

I hate them, I tried not taking them, ya know, faking it, spitting it back in the cup, hiding it under my tongue till I was alone, or just not taking it when Grandma trusted me to take them.

Well, lets just say, she found out.. And doesn't trust me anymore. She watched me take them, and checks my mouth to make sure I've swallowed them. I've never had so much hate before, except for the guy who ruined my life, but I hate her. Grandma I mean, for making me take those.

THEY DON'T DO ANYTHING! They don't help, they just make me feel fuzzy and clamp me up so eventually I get so bored and dead feeling, I just fall asleep half the day.

I'm like a zombie, but, according to Grandma, that's better than when I was numb from sadness.

These night terrors, the whole wave of emotions I get, is the closest I get to feeling anything until I have to take that damn pill in the morning, right after breakfast. Maybe that's why I haven't told Grams about them, because secretly, in a weird and fucked up way, I like them. They remind me I can feel..

I sighed shakily and blinked away the tears, falling back into my pillows and turned towards the window to see the shade of the sky lightening up to a lighter blue, almost indicating sunrise. I cringed inwardly at the thought of another day, resorting to taking pills forced at my face, sleepwalking through the motions of food, car ride, therapy, car ride again, and sitting outside to stare at trees in the back yard like a mental patient till dinner.. Where I, you guessed it, eat again..

I sighed, my exhaling coming out in spurts and shakes that I tried so very hard to supress. I closed my eyes for a minute, thinking about what I'd looked up online for things like this, when I could sneak some time on the Internet. I thought of a happy place, me, sitting outside on a hill that I could roll down for days, and I'm sitting there, on the perfect weather day of the year, painting on all these new canvasses that appear at my will out of nowhere. I inhaled and exhaled calmly, picturing the scene infront of me. My heart rate slowed and when I felt the corners of my mouth tug upward, I knew I was safe from myself.

I opened my eyes and took one last deep breath, releasing all my tension and worries, feeling at ease in my dark room, in my damp bed. What I'd give just to stay here, all day... I turned back toward the window, knowing I couldn't go back to sleep, and quietly got out of bed, tip toeing to the shower, not bothering to turn on a light anymore, since I rarely wanted to, or would, look at my reflection anymore.

I didn't need to be reminded every time I looked in a mirror how much shittier I looked, thanks to how much shittier I was feeling. I knew enough thanks to my own thoughts during my day- to- day routine, I didn't need any other reminders rubbing it in my face.