54. Ella

54

ELLA

“ E lla, sweetie,” Mom calls from the other side of my bedroom door.

Walking back in here and crawling into my bed was like stepping into a time warp.

It’s exactly the same as it was before I left for MKU.

The walls and shelves are covered in all my childhood memories. Every single thing I ever achieved has been showcased here. Not that I ever really achieved much. Surviving high school was my biggest accomplishment.

Mine and Benny’s former years were on a very different scale. He was collecting trophies almost from the moment he started playing for his team. His talent shone through even when he was throwing balls in the yard with Dad.

I, however, never excelled at anything.

Any good therapist would probably tell me that was a big trigger with my eating disorder. Not feeling good enough, not knowing my place or what I was meant to do.

Benny knew. He always knew.

I was…lost.

I always have been.

The only time I’ve ever truly felt found has been when I’ve been with?—

I slam that line of thought down.

Since stepping foot back in Texas, I’ve done my best to banish memories of Seattle from my mind. It’s been harder than I thought possible.

It’s not just him that I need to forget. It’s all of them.

My family.

A lump crawls up my throat as grief once again wraps around my chest. I swear, it gets more painful every time, like barbed wire cutting into my skin, seeking out my heart so it can rip it to shreds over and over.

“Are you awake?”

I squeeze my eyes closed. The need to lie like I have done what feels like a million times since we returned burns through me. But the guilt is stronger.

I’ve been shutting her out. I’m more than aware of that. But hiding is easier.

Having her eyes on me and seeing every single crack I’m desperately trying to fill is a whole other kind of torture.

I want to be the daughter she deserves. One who can stand tall and strong and help support her in her own grief. Instead, I’m too busy drowning in mine to be there for her.

I hate it.

I hate everything about everything right now.

“Yeah,” I call back, trying to push an image from my head of a time when I loved life.

College.

Those four years were the best ones of my life.

Finally, I’d been able to break free from the shackles that held me down.

I was able to be the person I always should have been, and I found the most amazing people to experience it with.

My cell on the nightstand beside me catches my attention as Mom pushes my door open, but I don’t reach for it.

I’m too terrified to see who’s been trying to contact me since I came home. Too scared to read the messages they’ve sent.

It’s why I let the battery die and haven’t even attempted to charge it.

Maybe…just maybe…if I can vanish, everything else will disappear with it.

“Hey, sweetie,” Mom says, walking straight toward the window and pulling the curtains back. The bright Texan sun floods the room, making me squint.

"Really?” I complain, throwing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.

“Yes, really. It’s time, Ella.”

I sense her moving closer before the bed dips next to me and the warmth of her hand blooms on my forearm as she tries to find my eyes.

“I’m not ready,” I whimper.

“It’s been a month, Ella. You can’t hide in here forever.”

I know. I do know this.

But also…

Why can’t I?

There is literally nothing outside of this house wanting me, waiting for me.

With Mom’s support, I quit my job when I got back to Texas. It was a miracle I still had one after checking out on life while Colt was in the hospital. But despite needing the money, I couldn’t return to that.

Somehow, I need to make a fresh start. And Colt was right a few weeks ago…what about my dream? What about the things I want?

Right now, I don’t know what that is, but I sure know what it isn’t.

Guilt floods me as I think about my friends. I left Seattle and haven’t been in touch since.

I don’t have a life right now. I don’t have anything.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom soothes, pulling me in for a hug. “I wish I knew how to make all of this better. But I promise you, hiding isn’t helping anyone. The best way to move on is to continue forward. I know it hurts, and I know it’s the last thing that you want to do. Trust me...”

The guilt I was feeling earlier over what a shitty daughter I am surges through me again.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper so quietly my apology is barely audible.

“Oh Ella, you have nothing to apologize for.”

My argument balances on the tip of my tongue, but I manage to swallow it down.

“But there is something I need you to do for me,” she confesses, pushing to her feet and rolling her shoulders back as if she’s preparing for battle.

To be fair, she might be.

I already know I’m not going to like whatever she’s about to demand of me.

I stare at her, waiting for her to say the words I fear.

Her chest expands as she sucks in a deep breath.

“You’re going to shower and put some real clothes on, and then we’re going to the store.”

Fear rips through me.

“N-no. I-I can’t.” I curl myself into a ball, one that I can only hope is small enough that she’ll no longer see me. Wishful thinking, but it’s all I’ve got at this point.

“Ella,” she soothes, reaching for my hands and tugging until I have little choice but to sit up. “You can. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but life has to go on, and we need food.”

“I don’t need anything.”

One of her brows lifts and she gives me her best warning glare. It’s enough to make my stomach knot like it used to when I was a little kid who’d made a bad decision.

“We need food,” she repeats, making me attempt to swallow the messy lump of emotion clogging my throat.

I’ve been eating, although not a lot. And I think Mom knows as well as I do that I wouldn’t have been if she wasn’t basically force-feeding me.

What’s the point when my life has gone to hell in a hand basket?

Releasing my hands, she backs up and disappears into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower running hits my ears before steam begins to billow out.

“Come on, Ella. Before we use all the hot water.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I let my head hang back and close my eyes.

You can do this, Ella.

This doesn’t have to be the end…

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push my feet to the floor and stand.

I can’t remember the last time I did, and my legs are weak and wobbly.

I stumble forward, thankfully catching myself on my dresser.

Pausing for a moment, I close my eyes and will the world to stop spinning and my legs to strengthen.

If Mom sees me like this…

I shake my head and force my eyes open.

She can’t.

“Ella, are you coming?” she calls, a hopeful lilt in her voice that makes me cringe.

“Yeah,” I whisper. There’s no way she can hear it over the sound of the running water, but to my surprise, she doesn’t pop her head out to check on me.

The second I step into the doorway, wearing my almost-week-old pajamas, Mom’s face erupts in a smile that I’m sure would rival the one if I were wearing a wedding dress. Fat fucking chance of that.

“It’s all ready for you,” she says before I can dive head-first into that depressing thought.

Maybe everything I dreamed of when I was a kid just isn’t in the cards for me.

“Thanks,” I mutter, stepping forward.

“I’ll go and make you a coffee for when you get out,” she says in a rush before leaving me alone.

Movement in the mirror beside me catches my eye, but I don’t look up and see what kind of horror will stare back at me. Seeing the bottom of my wrinkled oversized t-shirt is more than enough.

I move on autopilot, stripping naked and stepping into the shower.

The sluice of water over my dry skin is nice, but it’s not what I really need, and I reach out and turn the temperature up as high as it’ll go.

The second it begins to burn, I feel better.

The physical pain helps to lessen the emotional pain and heartache.

It’s a relief I desperately crave, but one I know won’t last nearly long enough.

I stand there for as long as I can bear, my skin burning wherever the water hits before I absently reach for my shampoo and begin the monotonous task of washing.

After finishing up, I reach for a towel and wrap myself up. It’s soft and fluffy but nowhere near as comforting as I need. Nothing like a strong set of arms wrapping around me…

“Shit,” I hiss as another wave of dizziness rocks through me.

Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the counter and wait for it to subside with my eyes closed.

You need to eat , a little voice says in the back of my mind.

I’ve been mostly existing on chips and crackers the past few weeks. It’s nowhere near what my body needs, even if I have been doing nothing but lying in bed.

I need to do something. Find a way to snap out of it and move forward before I have my hand forced and I find myself in a situation I never want to experience again.

When I emerge from the bathroom, I find that Mom has taken all the decision-making away from me.

A set of clean clothes awaits, and without thinking, I pull everything on before twisting my still-wet hair up into an old claw clip and steeling myself to step outside of my room.

I can’t remember the last time I did.

But I soon discover that the fear of leaving the safety of my bedroom is nothing compared to the moment I have to leave the house.

The world spins as I walk down the steps toward Mom’s car.

Everything is too bright, too noisy, too…overwhelming.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve taken the exact same trip a million times in my life.

It has never felt like this.

My chest tightens, and I swear my lungs begin to reduce in size as my pulse increases.

It doesn’t matter how fast I breathe; I can’t suck in the oxygen I need.

“Ella?” Mom asks, although her voice sounds like she’s in a tunnel.

Or more so, I am.

“Ella, sweetie.”

Her warm hand wraps around my upper arm and suddenly I’m moving.

A new scent hits my nose before I find myself sitting down.

“Breathe in. Out. In. Out,” Mom instructs as my entire body trembles and sweat beads my brow. “That’s it. Do it with me. In. Out. In. Out.”

It takes a minute or two, but eventually, my heart rate returns to normal and the world stops spinning, although I never lose the faint dizziness I’ve been battling since I stood from the bed.

“Mom,” I whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

She stares at me with nothing but empathy and compassion in her eyes.

“Let’s just drive to the store. You can do that, can’t you? Just me and you,” she says, squeezing my hands. “Get some sun on that pretty face of yours.”

It might be late in the year, but the temperatures are still high, and I have to admit, the warmth on my face isn’t awful.

Without knowing, I find myself nodding in agreement.

“That’s my girl,” Mom praises.

She walks around the front of the car after closing me in, and the lingering panic threatens at the edges of my psyche. But thankfully, she’s sitting beside me and starting the engine before it really takes hold.

“I know this is hard, and I know I’m pushing you. But I need you to trust me.”

“I do,” I whisper, wringing my hands on my lap.

I just wish I trusted myself.