Sanity

I had been talking with Dr. Blake every day. I wasn't feeling sad anymore, but I wasn't feeling much of anything because of the pills. The dreams didn't come every night as they had but only once or twice a week now. I didn't resist eating or taking the pills. I realized it was pointless, and maybe I needed them as they said.

My mom even came to visit me last Saturday. She cried mostly, having talked to my doctors; she felt awful about how she treated me before, but honestly I didn't want to have that heart-to-heart conversation with her. After my mom had spoken with me a bit, Dr. Blake sat down with us. She explained how coming home would be a transition. That she would recommend another doctor near my house, and I would still need to be monitored closely. My mom told her that she would work from home until the other doctor felt I could be by myself. I hated the thought of her being there all the time, but I also knew it was needed.

Dr. Blake told me she would release me at the end of the following week. I honestly didn't want to go home. I didn't want to face my family every day, and going home meant eventually I would have to see my friends. I didn't want to see the pity in their faces or actions. Here at least I didn't know anyone, but I knew I couldn't stay here forever.

***

The morning my mother and father came to get me, I cried. They thought it was tears of joy, but I was crushed by my dad's eyes. They watched me with such disbelief. He hadn't seen me since I was found, and I now knew why. He didn't speak to me. He barely touched me. I made him feel uncomfortable, the thoughts of what might have happened to me haunted him; I could see it in his eyes, all of it.

As we left the building, I started to feel anxious. I didn't quite know why, but I knew I didn't like it, at all. I sat in the car and buckled my seatbelt. I didn't talk much on the way back home, and my parents didn't push me.

As soon as I got home, I went straight to my room. It was just as I left it: my unmade bed, dirty clothes on the floor, and records and books spread out in my sitting nook. I crawled in my bed pulling my covers up around my face. I stared at the ceiling and slowly fell asleep.

***

I awoke to my mother knocked on my door before peeking in. I rubbed my eyes as I sat up. I looked over to her as she smiled.

"I brought you some tomato soup and grilled cheese."

"Thanks mom. How long was I asleep?"

"Just a few hours. The doctor said your medicines might make you tired."

"Yeah, they do sometimes."

"Is there anything," she paused, "Anything you want to talk about?"

"No, not right now."

"Okay sweetheart, I'm here if you need me. Your dad was called into town for business. I was thinking maybe we could rent a movie?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." I smiled.

"Well, I'll let you change and eat. I'll be downstairs when you are ready." She smiled before shutting the door.

I grabbed the soup tray before setting back and eating. I was really glad my mother thought to fix it because I was hungry. At that moment, I had this weird feeling. I felt something in me that was like a warmth radiating out, like love almost. I shook my head and got into some pajamas for the movie.

When I got down stairs, my mom was sitting on the couch waiting for me. We figured out what to watch, and I actually had fun. She didn't treat me like I was damaged, like I thought she would. She loved me and treated me like a friend while still managing to mother me.

For a moment it made me think of the mother I could have been to Brett and I's baby, and then I remembered there was never a baby. Dr. Blake said my subconscious probably created the baby in order to give me a will to fight, to try and escape. It made me tear up a bit, but I quickly got control of myself before my mom noticed.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, we did this often between doctor visits and quiet dinners with my dad. It was always weird when my dad was home; he was uncomfortable around me which made us all uncomfortable.

My new doctor said I was progressing, but that I would struggle with this for a while. I was really hoping that it could be fixed with a couple months of therapy, but she assured me that it would be years before I would totally be over it. I had come to the point where I was fairly certain none of what I had gone through with Brett was real, including Brett himself, and though I had lapses where I would think of something like the baby and have to remind myself that it wasn't real, I was doing better.

I tried not to allow myself to miss Brett and the pack, to remind myself when I thought my wolf was telling me something that it was all in my head. I would remind myself that I shouldn't morn a baby that I had never lost or people I had never known, but I still did. The meds helped take the edge off my pain, but at times I still felt it. When I was by myself, sometimes I felt like my wolf could sense Brett nearby, the first few times it happened I found myself running to the nearest window, hoping to find him standing there, but he never was.

My mom often found me staring at the wood line through the window. She would look at me, sympathy in her eyes, and sighed a deep knowing sigh. I hated feeling the loss so strongly when I had barely missed my own family, but I loved Brett with my whole heart. With Brett my life felt complete without him I felt a little lost, like a thick fog had moved in on my life, and I couldn't make out what was in front of me.

Not a day passes when I didn't think about Brett or the park. I hated myself for it; I wanted it to be over, this whole thing. I wanted to forget about my time away or rather remember what really happened.

***

That morning I woke up at dawn, lying in bed thinking of the mornings I would wake up with Brett before he would leave for work. I found myself with my comforter wrapped around me, sitting in my nook, my breath fogging up the cold glass of the window, as I watched the woods.

Then it happened, the glow of eyes reflecting from the pouch light as the sun rose. A brief flicker of hope, set apart by denial and frustration, but it was there. He was there.