Shadows of My Past

Chapter 21

"So your file tells me that you've been diagnosed with schizophrenia. Is this true?" nurse Natalia peered up from her glasses.

"Yes, a few weeks ago."

"Well, that could be the reason for your hallucinations. It's one of the symptoms, and also according to your files, you've had them before. Not this extreme, but they've still occurred."

"Great. Thanks."

She closed the file that contained the factual parts of my life. "Phoebe, your mind isn't magically going to heal itself. You have to want it enough to work with it. We can give you all the medicines, treatments, therapy, rehabs, resources, and lectures that we can, but at the end of the day, it's all up to you just how far you want to push yourself to get better. Remember that."

She walked out, leaving her words behind with me.

But what she said didn't matter today. Today, I was going home.

Well, as much of home as it can get.

I owe Alec for this; why he did it in the first place I'm still not sure of.

I've been in the hospital for six days. It feels longer, but Clay confirmed it on the phone this morning. I shuffled my feet as I walked into the bathroom, stopping at the mirror. It was obvious how different I looked; I was skinner, my cheeks were pale, and my eyes were hollow. I assumed it was from all of the medication, and when I wasn't on the medication, from the stress.

But just how different I looked, well, that was up to the doctors to decide.

I unruffled my V-neck t-shirt and slid it over my head. I pulled up my sweatpants and tied them loosely around my waist.I gathered my hair in my hands and wrapped it into a bun on top of my head, securing it with a hair tie provided by one of the nurses.

After a quick discussion with myself whether or not I should look well-put together on my day out of the hospital, I decided to go casual. No make-up, jewelry, fancy high heels or painted nails; just me. Bare. Because that was my mood, and I planned on embracing it.

I counted the ticks of the clock in my head while I waited for a doctor to escort me down to the lobby. I had been given a "gift bag" with a "We hope our service was a blessing to you!" sticker, a pack of black and white Band-Aids, a notepad, and a cheesy pen that read "Young Adults Melwood Medical Center". It also contained a list of my daily medication, a monthly supply of the medication itself, and a business card that was addressed for my soon-to-be psychologist.

After 1,298 ticks Dr. Frothier, who displaced my ability to be near an open window, collected what few items were brought to me and beckoned towards the nearest elevator. Once confirmed entry by the ding, I stepped inside and gripped onto the metal railing behind me.

I stared at my reflection in the glassy door and felt myself being carried down towards the first floor. I closed my eyes and imagined the floor giving out underneath me, imagined my falling, flying towards the ground, wondering if anyone would be able to survive such a drop. But I was abruptly tugged out of my daydream by the quick stop of the elevator.

Clay was already at the front desk signing papers as my "legal guardian". I gave him a closed-mouth smile and began walking out to his convertible. Before even reaching the door I could see Ava's tiny red curls vigorously bouncing up and down on her head. She wiggled out of her seat and attacked me in a hug.

"The doctors stopped letting us visit after the third day. They were afraid we might've done or said something to get you worked up and that wouldn't have been good for your brain," she tapped my forehead, "but it's okay now because you're coming home."

"Yes," Clay said from behind, "we're all going home. But first, I'm taking us to the beach."

Ava gasped in excitement.

"Why the beach?" I asked.

"Have you ever been to the beach?"

"No."

"Question asked, question answered."

Silence filled silence; the usual drives with Clay remained the same.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to catch Ava softly humming Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" playing on the radio.

The world outside my window seemed eerily unchanged since I had last seen it. Not that I had hoped for much. Just a sliver of something more magical, more beautiful than I remember.

I guess miracles really are just a myth. We pulled up to a railing along what seemed like a desert with plants.

"I'm pretty sure beaches have oceans," I pointed out, "or at least some source of water."

Ignoring my complaint, Clay pulled Ava up onto his shoulders and began walking towards the expanse. Glancing at the few people around me I became aware of my choice of clothing and wished he had warned me sooner about his plans for us lounging in the sun.

The heat rose off the sand and into my feet. Of course, Ava pranced spiritedly through the terrain, while Clay and I trailed far behind.

"I know what you're thinking about," he said.

"Then you should know I don't want to be thinking about it."

"So you're not at all curious about what happened to Damian when he got kicked out of the hospital? You don't want to know where he went that night, where he is right now? You don't care at all about who he may be with at this very moment?"

"Don't be an ass."

"I'm just saying, if I were you I would have a lot of questions."

"And I'm not saying I don't. But after being trapped in a room with wires attached to every inch of skin on my body and being under constant surveillance for almost a week, becoming Sherlock Holmes isn't exactly my idea of a 'Welcome Home' celebration."

After a moment of calming, blissful silence, he spoke.

"Look Phoebe, I like you. I don't like him. Frankly, I despise him. But I put up with him because 80% of the time, he makes you happy. And I see the way he looks at you, the way he treats you and talks to you. He really does love you. He'll come back sooner or later. Maybe right now, he's just taking time to process. Though I hate myself for admitting it, I respect him for growing the balls to do what all of us wish we could be doing right now."

"Even though the way he did it was pretty shitty."

He laughed. "You're not the easiest person to just walk away from, in case you haven't already noticed."

Before I had time to grasp his response, Ava had sprinted back to us clutching fistfuls of broken shells and rocks she had picked up along the way.

And it was then that Clay's phone began to buzz.

As he read what was on his screen, his face flattened, and all color was drained from his body. With trembling hands, the words "time to go" fell from his lips as he turned on his heels and paced back to the car.

As I studied the panicked expression sitting behind the wheel, I realized Clay was right.

I did have a lot of questions.