Page 93 of The Lies That Shatter
He called me a fighter. He told me that no matter what, he wouldn’t see me differently, but I knew he was wrong.
That first night in hospital, a nightmare woke me, and I cried and screamed so much my throat felt raw. I felt like I was right back in that room again, being hurt over and over, only this time it was never ending.
Finn held me as I fell apart. I shook in his arms and voiced the fear that had been with me since I arrived at the hospital. “Will you look at me differently now that you know what he did to me? When all you will see are the scars?”
He placed both his hands over my cheeks and lifted my gaze until I was looking into his crystal blue eyes. He spoke with such clarity; he made me believe every word he said, deep down in my soul.
“What he did to you doesn’t change who you are, sweetheart. You’re still the strongest, fiercest, most amazing woman that I know. You’re still easily the most beautiful woman in the world, and every time I look at your scars, they remind me that you fought to get back to me. They show what a warrior you are. If anything, they make you more gorgeous, and I’m still the luckiest man in the world. And even though I know you don’t believe a word I’m saying right now, I’m going to spend every day, for the rest of our lives, proving to you that it’s true.”
I couldn’t find any other words after that, or in the days that followed. He gave me space, thinking that I just needed some time to heal. I wasn’t even sure I could get back to the person I was before.
After they discharged me from the hospital, we moved into a room in Bree’s house with the rest of the family. Initially, I wanted to go back to my own flat, but Bree can be pretty fucking insistent when she wants something. I think deep down I knew it would be safer at the main house, surrounded by the Doughty family and all their security. Finn certainly seemed happier when I agreed.
As the days ticked by, life got immeasurably harder. Finn was doing his best to look after me, and I know I probably didn’t make it easy for him, but I simply couldn’t function.
Over the last couple of weeks since leaving the hospital, I have felt myself slowly sinking deeper and deeper into that part of myself where I hide for protection. The darkness that latched onto me in the hospital has been slowly consuming me, and it’s reached the point where I can barely function.
If I leave the bedroom at all, I consider that to be a good day. I mostly just wander around like a zombie, barely noticing anyone else around me, and that’s if I actually get out of bed.
The depression has completely taken over, and I’ve lost all interest in anything and everything. Finn continues to bring me food, and if he’s lucky, I eat a few bites, but mostly I just push it around the plate until he moves it.
He asks me regularly if I want to shower, and each time I refuse. After a few days of declining, he will pick me up and carry me in anyway. I don’t even have the energy to fight or argue when he does.
Every night is the same. When I think Finn has finally fallen to sleep, I let out the tears that I’ve managed to keep at bay throughout the day. I cry until I can’t take any more; the sobs racking my body to the point of exhaustion and I fall asleep. That only lasts for about an hour or so, until my nightmares pull me awake.
I scream and thrash around, sobbing uncontrollably as the pain and fear from that day invades my brain in the worst ways. Finn pulls me into his arms and whispers sweet, reassuring words, and I let him. It’s the only time of the day when I allow him to touch me, and if it weren’t for the dark room and the desperation, I would push him away. Instead, I pull him closer and draw in a little of his strength.
The truth is…I miss him. I miss the way he holds me and kisses me. I miss talking to him, laughing with him. I hate the way he looks at me, like I’m a broken puzzle he doesn’t know how to fix. I know I’ve put that look there, and pushing him away doesn’t help, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m so lost in my spiralling shame. I know I should pull him close, but instead, I push him away.
Even though I barely say a word, he continues to talk to me. He thinks I’m not listening, or maybe that I’m not taking in what he says, but I am. I just don’t know how to process his words.
He apologises all the time, like everything that happened was his fault. In fact, he tells me that all the time, that he will always blame himself. Even though Iknowhe wasn’t to blame, I still don’t correct him. I don’t know how.
He even gave me permission to leave, if that’s what it will take to make me happy. He said that the idea of me leaving cuts him worse than any knife ever could, but he would do anything to make me happy, even if that means letting me go. The thought of losing him made my heart race and bile rise in my stomach. I don’t want to leave him, but I’m not sure how to stay either.
The worst part is the way he reminds me at every chance he gets, how much he cares about me, and how beautiful I am. I may try to hide my body away under his large T-shirts, but he still sees me.
I avoid looking in mirrors, or being naked—hence no showers—but he notices that too. He’s too damn observant. Yet the morehatred I have for the scars that litter my body, the more he makes sure to tell me that they don’t matter.
I can see the plea in his eyes each time he tells me how beautiful I am, that he’s begging me to believe him. I want to. I really want to believe that the scars don’t matter to him…but they matter to me. They’re a constant reminder of my weakness, and how I nearly lost it all.
After another week of wandering around the house in a daze—just over a month since leaving the hospital—it becomes pretty obvious that everyone is avoiding me when I do eventually leave the bedroom. I’m not surprised. I’m hardly a barrel of fucking laughs to be around.
Because they usually run when they hear me moving, I’ve grown used to being on my own. So, when I walk into the kitchen and see Kellan and Hallie still there, I’m startled.
My instinct is to back out and pretend I didn’t see them, but curiosity gets the better of me. I don’t think they’ve even heard me approaching, they’re too lost in each other. Hallie is sitting in her high chair, and Kellan is crouched down to her level on the other side of the kitchen island. They appear to be in the middle of a stare off.
Finn told me that Hallie took the news that she was going to be a big sister very well, and she was even on her best behaviour for a couple of days. But if the large blobs of banana that are scattered around the kitchen are any indication, she’s back to her usual self.
“Hallie Bear, we’ve talked about this. You eat the banana, you don’t throw it,” Kellan chastises, as he wags his finger at his daughter.
Hallie picks up a chunk of banana off the table of her high chair and lifts it towards her mouth. But at the last second, she changes her mind and throws it at her dad. “Die, Daddy. Splat,”she shouts, before giggling loudly as Kellan ducks to avoid being hit in the face with the fruit.
As he stands back up, his eyes narrow. I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my face, and I definitely ignore my brain as it tries to remind me that this is the first time I’ve smiled in over a month. Actually, it’s the only positive emotion I’ve shown since then. I’ve been so consumed by fear, sadness, and humiliation, I wasn’t sure I could remember how to be happy anymore.
Hallie doesn’t even try to hide her cheeky grin, and although Kellan keeps his face stern as he tells her off, I can see there’s a little bit of pride there, too.
My laugh captures his attention, and he turns to face me. Before I can back out, he asks, “Want a coffee?” I give him a small nod, and he pulls out the chair beside Hallie. “Sit here. You’ll be out of firing range then.”
