Stockholm Syndrome

The Fight

When we arrive home, all of the trust that I had for Michele vanishes as I try to keep a clear head and remember where I truly am. I had a moment of weakness, but I am strong and I will not forget Mr. Walker. After hours of lying in the bed, simply thinking, Michele returns.

"I have dinner made, are you hungry?"

"Yeah, I will be down in a minute," I reply as I stand up and walk into the room. She nods and heads downstairs as I plop down onto the bed and run my fingers harshly through my hair. I dreamt of the video from the hospital last night and it felt so real, every second of it, but I know that is not what really happened. I shove my fingernails into the palms of my hands and steady my breathing. In, out. In out. In, out. I can't think about this anymore. I stand up and walk towards the door, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, following the scent of freshly cooked bacon and gravy. I stand in the doorway of the kitchen, watching as Michele stands above the stove, humming along to Metalica. I clear my throat to announce my presence and she turns around and smiles at me.

"I made your favorite breakfast foods for dinner, since we missed breakfast this morning" she says, pointing to the table, "bacon, biscuits and gravy, along with some of your nana's homemade french toast casserole." She beams at me and I make my way to the table. She hands me the plate and I take a bite of the square in front of me. My eyes widen as the soft, cinnamon bottom melts in my mouth.

"This is really good," I say to her, my mouth full, "what did you say it was again?"

"Um, french toast casserole," she responds, disappointed that I didn't know what it was. Before either of us had time to dwell on it, the there is a hard knock on the door. Michele is back to her peppy self as she makes her way to the door. Moments later, the boy from the hospital saunters into the room.

"Hey Lane, I'm happy your home," he says to me before sliding into the seat next to mine.

"Uh, Dean, right?" I respond. His head jolts up and looks as Michele, who also looks at me surprised.

"You remember me?" He asks quickly.

"Uh, I-I don't know, not really," I admit, looking down at the floor. He stares at me intensely for a moment before a crooked smile breaks across his face. He runs his tongue across his plump bottom lip.

"Well I'll take it," he says,slapping his hand on the table before jumping up and making a plate of his own. Dean and Michele talk for a moment, about his family, school, just small talk really before they both turn to me.

"So, what would you like to do with the rest of today?" They ask me. I stare at them blankly, unsure of what to say. I shrug my shoulders and crinkly my eyebrows, biting my lip, thinking about how different it is here than it is at home.

"I just want to go home," I say quietly.

"Delaney please don't start this now," the woman pleads with me, and I look at her, confusion and anger crossing my face.

"Start what Michele? Don't you see that you are ruining my life?" I snap back, starting to leave the room. I feel her icy fingers wrap around my arm as she spins me around to face her.

"Listen to me," she yells, her hand tightening around my arm, "this is home, that man is cruel and deranged and never should have been discharged from Cedarview, you need to stop being so damn selfish by fighting for the man that really ruined your life and start fighting for the people that truly love you."

Ripping my arm from her hand, all of the anger and confusion that I have been holding in comes rushing out.

"No! Someone that truly loved me would understand that I am not perfect and would listen to me when I told them what I was feeling!" I scream, "someone that was so cruel and deranged as you say would never put his hands on me like that and he would never make me feel like a piece of s**t because of my feelings." I storm out of the house and start walking down the street. I hear Dean following me close behind.