A Prescription for Love

Chapter Thirty-Three

Are you still with me? Please say that you are...Thank you for your patience in my wacky updating schedule. My life has changed rapidly over the past few weeks. I have an update on my blog about that if you're curious. Anyhow, I do thank you for sticking with me.

Now, none of this is mine. I'm no Stephenie Meyer (though there are days that I wish I was. Getting paid millions to write? Yes and please.) I like to slip into her world and borrow her characters because they are just so epically awesome!

For Patty - *tissue warning*

Chapter Thirty-Three

BPOV

Christmas Eve.

One year ago, I was battling demons against my father. I was fighting my own self-esteem. I was at my lowest point. I honestly wanted to end it all. That is until I met a certain green-eyed doctor who bought me coffee and became my friend.

My best friend.

My rock.

My strength.

My love.

I looked up at myself in the mirror as I got ready to go to Cook County Hospital. I looked healthier. My hair was curly and shiny. My face was a flushed pink, glowing from within. My body was smaller but still a bit chunky. With Edward's diet of six mini-meals, I'd started gaining weight. Honestly, I was glad about that. I didn't like seeing myself as thin. I liked my curves. I missed them. My goal was to gain the weight I lost from being in the coma which was roughly twenty pounds. I was happy with that weight. Edward loved me at that weight.

Yesterday, I went to the spa with Rose and Esme to have some girly pampering. I had my haircut and highlighted. I had everything waxed. And I mean everything. When I was cleared for sex by Demetri, I was ready and raring to go, but I was a bit bushy between the legs. Edward didn't care when he fingered me that night, but I knew I had to trim the jungle. I shared the tidbit with Rose and she said to leave it. She scheduled my spa treatments instead.

I felt much more human after all of the pampering and beautification. I'm not a shallow person. However, after several months of wearing workout clothes, no bra and sneakers, it felt nice to be gussied up. It felt nice now. Then I remembered why I'm all gussied up.

Going to the hospital.

My heart fell to my feet.

Breathe, Bella.

In and out.

You are safe.

You'd think after nearly two months of therapy, a lot of journaling and increase in my dosage for my anti-depressants and my anti-anxiety pills, I'd be able to walk into the hospital. Nope. Not so much. I did, however, know that Edward was having it worse than me. When I finally stopped and looked at someone other than myself, I saw him. Really saw him. He was gaunt, thin, nervous, terrified and worried. I had flashbacks and occasional nightmares. Edward had night terrors. I knew when it was really bad for him when I felt his arms banded around me, clinging to me so tightly that I thought he'd break my healing ribs. His sobs at night broke my heart.

I knew I pushed him away. I needed him like the air that I breathe but my fucked up head felt like he was going to dump my ass. It took until I had fallen in the tub to finally see that he was in it for the long haul. I mentally berated myself for shutting myself off from him, but I knew we'd make it. After that night, things improved, exponentially. My nightmares dwindled and Edward managed to sleep through the night without having a night terror. Instead, we were cuddled in each other's arms, happy to be with each other.