56. Ella

56

ELLA

“ S omeone call an ambulance!”

The words float around in my fuzzy head. They don’t register for a few seconds, but the moment they do, I panic.

“No,” I cry, pressing my hands to the rough ground beneath me and pushing until I’m sitting up.

The world around me spins, but it’s not bad enough to allow them to follow Mom’s orders.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, instantly wishing it came out stronger and more convincing.

Mom's panicked eyes narrow as she studies me, searching for my lie.

“Ella,” she warns. “You need to get checked out.”

“No, I don’t.” Fighting against my weak body, I climb to my feet in an attempt to prove her wrong.

The number of eyes on me makes my skin prickle uncomfortably. I don’t want to be the focus of anyone’s attention. Especially not a bunch of people who are pitying me.

“I just need to get out of here,” I say, stumbling forward.

A couple of the women behind me gasp as if I’m about to plummet to the floor all over again, but thankfully my legs begin functioning just in time.

Every movement is harder than it should be. My muscles scream in pain with every step I take, but I refuse to let my body win.

I’m not getting in the back of an ambulance, and I’m certainly not letting anyone admit me to a hospital.

A violent tremor rips through my body at just the thought.

I can’t do that. Not again.

They’ll take one look at me, and they’ll know.

They’ll send me back into therapy. They’ll force me to talk, to try and deal with everything that’s happened in their way.

But I don’t need that.

I just need…

A sob erupts.

What I need is to not think about what I need.

I close my eyes, wishing there was another way.

I might have refused the ambulance but…if I really want to beat this, I’m going to need support.

Mom pulls the car door open and helps me climb in.

“I wish you’d?—”

“Mom, please,” I beg, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“I’m worried about you.’

“It’s just low blood pressure and too much stress. I’ll be okay,” I lie.

If it’s possible, the frown lines on her forehead get deeper.

“You’re not eat?—”

“When we get home, I’ll eat anything you make for me,” I promise, already feeling physically sick just thinking about it.

“Anything?” she asks.

I nod, although I’m already regretting it.

There’s movement over her shoulder before a woman of a similar age appears before us.

“Here,” she says, thrusting a can at me. “The sugar should help pick you up,” she explains with a soft smile.

“Thank you so much,” Mom says, cracking the top for me and encouraging me to drink some.

My stomach convulses and my mouth waters—but not in a good way—as the sugary scent hits my nose.

Mom glares, waiting for me to refuse after the promise I just made her. Unable to disappoint her, I move the can to my lips and hesitantly take a sip.

It takes everything I have to swallow down the ridiculously sweet drink, and the second it hits my stomach I’m sure it’s going to immediately reappear. But after a few deep breaths, everything settles.

“I’m taking you home,” Mom says as the woman goes back to whatever she was doing before I interrupted her day with my dramatics.

She steps back and is about to close my door when I remember why we were here in the first place.

“We need food,” I blurt.

In reality, I probably should have kept my mouth shut.

“But—”

“Go,” I encourage. “I’ll be okay here. I’m feeling better.” I give her the best smile I can muster while she debates her options.

“I’ll be super fast. We were pretty much done anyway.”

I cringe as I think about the reason I was running from the store in the first place.

Hatred burns through my veins. But it’s not just for him, the asshole who made me feel unworthy, ugly, fat, worthless. But also, for myself.

He might have done all those things, but I allowed him to. Hell, I can’t help but wonder if I encouraged him at times.

I’m a masochist. I enjoy the pain. I deserve the pain.

I embraced the teasing and the bullying as a child and hurt myself because of it. And I did exactly the same after Colt and I finally ended, and I put myself in the hospital.

It’s exactly what I’m doing to myself now.

Punishing myself for my stupid decision.

Deep down, I knew we wouldn’t last. I knew I’d be the one broken at the end of it. But I went there anyway, and now I get to suffer the consequences.

He was right, I am weak.

I let others take advantage and don’t put myself first.

That has to change. If I have any shot at a future, at happiness, then I have to put me first, and I need to fight.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That won’t stop me worrying,” Mom says quietly, making all of this a little bit worse.

I hate that she worries about me. I want her to embrace life with two hands and figure out who she is without Dad. I want her to enjoy the time she has. She should be spending time with girlfriends, dating, and finding new hobbies. But instead, she’s babysitting her incapable adult daughter because her life has fallen from beneath her feet once again.

No sooner has she closed the door, securing me inside the car, than my head falls back against the headrest.

I close my eyes, silently cursing myself for what just happened.

I have no idea if Chad followed us and is now aware that his presence affected me so badly that I passed out.

How fucking mortifying.

As if that jerk needed anything else to boost his ego.

You’d think that my running away from him in favor of a professional football player would be a hit to his ego, but it seems it’s as intact as ever.

He really does think he’s God’s gift.

I wonder if his boss is still under the illusion that he’s a decent person, or if she’s learned that his personality is as pitiful as his performance in bed—not that she seemed to have an issue with that, of course. Maybe her standards are just that low. Hell knows mine were for a long while.

Ripping my eyes open, I scan the almost empty parking lot before taking another sip of the drink.

The minutes tick by as I lose myself in my thoughts…my regrets.

Movement a few cars down from Mom’s catches my eye and I turn to look.

My breath catches when I find Chad leaning against a car I don’t recognize, just staring at me with a smug grin playing on his lips.

The few sips of drink in my stomach instantly sour until it takes everything I have not to bring it up in my lap.

Slowly, he begins shaking his head in disgust.

His opinion of me doesn’t matter.

It never should have mattered.

Poison drips through my veins as his voice rings out clearly in my ears.

“You can’t go out wearing that.”

“It would have looked good if you were two sizes smaller.”

“I’m going out. I don’t think you’d fit in. Best you just stay here.”

“Why isn’t there any food? It’s not like you’ve had anything else to do.”

I fight my need to physically shrink with every memory.

It’s not the reaction I want to have, but it’s the only one I’m capable of right now.

Maybe one day in the future, I’ll be strong enough to stand up in front of him and tell him everything he lost out on.

Or maybe I’ll just move to another state and never have to worry about seeing his face again…

Thankfully, he gets bored of staring at me after a few minutes, and with one more asshole smirk, he ducks into his car and disappears.

I discover why a few seconds later when Mom reappears with our cart full of food.

Is he really scared of her?

I can’t help but laugh at the thought.

That really does put things into perspective.

I might be weak, but he’s worse. So much worse.

“ B enny’s here,” I say feeling a little lighter for the first time in hours at the sight of his car sitting in the driveway.

“He should be at school, he has class,” Mom complains.

It’s not the first time he’s surprised us with a visit since I’ve been back. He’s checking up on me, that’s more than obvious. As much as I hate that he feels like he has to, I also love that he cares enough to do so.

No sooner has Mom killed the engine does the front door open to reveal my larger-than-life little brother.

“Has he got bigger again?” I ask, taking in his wide shoulders and thick arms.

His frame is beginning to rival Colt and the guys.

It’s not right, Benny is my little brother; he should always be small and cute. Okay, maybe not so cute.

“Yes,” Mom says confidently before pushing the door open.

She might be out first, but Benny makes a beeline straight toward me.

“Ell-Bell,” he breathes before wrapping me in a bear hug.

Every muscle in my body relaxes as he holds me tight. My nose itches and my eyes burn with tears.

Mom’s hugged me loads, but there’s nothing like a hug from a strong man to make you feel safe and protected, even if it is your little brother.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

“Good.”

“Liar.”

I let out a huge sigh.

“Coping,” I correct as I pull back from his embrace.

His brows pinch tight as he studies me. Really studies me.

My stomach twists because I know exactly what he can see.

Dark shadows under my eyes, sunken cheekbones, gray-tinted skin.

“I’m worried about you,” he confesses, making me feel a million times worse than I already do.

I don’t want anyone worrying about me, especially not Benny when he should be off living his best life at Trinity.

“I’m okay,” I attempt.

He smiles at me, but there’s no happiness in there.

“Or at least I will be,” I add.

“I know. You’re a fighter, Ell-Bell. Meet you inside, I’m going to grab the groceries,” he says before darting around me to get the bags before Mom does.

I watch him go to her with my chest tight and full of love for my little family.

Dad will always be a huge missing piece of our world, but what we have is still epic.

“Go on then,” Benny instructs as he moves toward me, his arms loaded with bags.

Rolling my eyes at his demanding ways, I spin around and walk toward the house, but I must move too fast because my head begins to swim, the world around me blurring.

I manage to keep it together until I step into the house. My knee buckles and I reach out for the doorframe to stop me from going down.

There’s a crash behind me before hands land on my upper arms.

“Are you okay?” Benny asks, his voice panicked.

“Y-yeah,” I say weakly, squeezing my eyes closed in the hope of banishing the shame.

I did this to myself. And if I don’t do anything about it, I’m going to continue down this path, hurting those I love.

“No, you’re not. You need to call your doctor.”

“Benny,” I warn.

“No. I’m not Mom. I’m not pussy footing around this. You’re ill. You need to see professionals. I’m not letting you do this to yourself again.”

I hang my head.

“I’m going to fix it.”

“Damn right you are,” he says firmly.

Abandoning the discarded groceries, Benny helps me into the house and places me on a chair in the kitchen, allowing me to watch him retrieve the bags while Mom places a plate of cookies in front of me.

I reach for one knowing that I have to, but that doesn’t stop them from tasting like cardboard.

I feel guilty as hell just watching them, but my body doesn’t allow much more.

I can’t say that I feel all that much better after the rest, but I do feel a little more hopeful while I’m surrounded by my family.

Watching Chad run from a meek and mild innocent middle-aged woman sure helped. The sugar rush from the sports drink also might have had some kind of effect.

With Mom cooking up a storm for me in the kitchen and Benny distracted with something on his cell, I sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed and stare down at my charging cell.

I promised myself earlier that I would reach out to my family, and I need to follow through.

My hand trembles as I press my thumb against the button on the side.

It takes a second, but the moment it lights up, my heart summersaults in my chest.

Am I ready for this?

Before I have a chance to second-guess it, my home screen appears and then only a second later, the notifications begin.

Letty. Kane. Peyton. Luca. Macie. Leon. West. Brax.

With every name I see, the more emotional I get.

I’ve been here suffering and they’re over there worrying.

For the first time in weeks, I get a tingle of awareness that everything might just be okay.

It lasts for all of ten seconds or so before I realize that out of all the names on my screen, Colt’s isn’t one of them.

Did I really think he would have reached out?

No.

Did I secretly hope that he might have done it anyway?

Yes. Yes, I did.

I grip my cell tighter when my head swims and the room spins.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Trying to work through it, I open Letty’s message thread and read through everything she’s sent me.

Every word from her makes me cry harder. She is the most incredible friend, and after being nothing but a shitty one in return, I don’t deserve her.

Her final one was sent only yesterday and it simply says, I love you, and I’m here .

I can barely see the words through my tears, and it’s equally as hard to move my thumb to finally reply.

Ella: I love you too. I’m sorry.

I hit send and then flop onto the bed, unable to hold myself up any longer.

Sleep doesn’t come for me right away. Instead, I lie there staring at one spot on my wall.

Silent tears soak my comforter as the sounds and scents of Mom in the kitchen waft around me, but I don’t feel anything.

I’m numb.

Broken and numb.

My surroundings blur weirdly as white noise fills my ears.

“Ella, it’s ready.” I barely hear Mom’s voice.

I don’t move. I can’t.

Instead, I just keep staring, my limbs refusing to function.

I should probably be panicking. Everything feels wrong. Alien. But I’m not.

Suddenly, after all these weeks of pain, everything is peaceful.

Everything is…nothing.

The last thing I remember is thinking, it’s time.

Time to get the help I need.