Ch 3 - Going Under

Lost like a ship without a sail,
And terrified to fail,
Sick of the sickness that I feel,
Its a mystery to me...
Why cant I be normal like everyone else?
Why cant I become something more than myself?
I reach and I'm trying to believe in me,
But its just too hard to see..
Who am I now?
And when will I be found?
What if I drown?
I'm going under now....

“Going Under” - Saliva

I took longer in the shower than I usually would… I let the hot water run down my body, warming my skin to a pink color. When the water started turning cold, I shut it off and stepped out, grabbing a towel. I walked into the bedroom and glared into my closet with a huff. Not many of my clothes could be construed as work attire… not many of my clothes had been brought with me. I briefly wondered what Charlie had done with everything I left behind. Probably burned it all, I thought.

I pulled out a pair of black pants and a white blouse. I had a pair of black ballet flats thankfully to go with it, as I’m sure a pair of Nike’s wouldn’t have done the trick.

Denise arrived at 6:15 to take me to breakfast before my first day at work. I thanked her profusely over breakfast and the ride to the library. It wasn’t too far from my apartment, also walking distance I gathered..

I filled out the necessary paperwork when we arrived. The librarian’s name was Margaret and I could tell she was nice—she reminded me of my grandmother. Denise departed and said she’d been in touch while I was sent off to work. Most of the day was spent running copies and shelving books. The librarian offered to give me a break and told me I could use a computer if I wanted, but I declined. I hadn’t touched one in six months and didn’t want to yet. I’d been living in a bubble the past few months, and wasn’t ready to know exactly what I’d missed in the outside world.

The day flew by fast. At 3pm I clocked out and set off walking towards the hospital. I had therapy in an hour and I wasn’t looking forward to it. I knew I couldn’t just sit back and say nothing anymore. I was obligated to open up, but I had no idea what to say or where to start. What would he want to hear? What would he believe? Would it even matter? I was frankly afraid of saying something that would cause me to be locked up again, this time with Marianne’s diagnosis--Paranoid Schizophrenic. Because that’s how the story would make me sound. I knew I had to dull it down, take out any reference to anything unbelievable, but how would that help me? Would it even be believable that way?

I scanned into the hospital at 3:45. I waited for Dr. Nelson to call for me and then entered his office hesitantly. I sat down in the brown chair with my hands on my lap. He noticed my posture and raised his eyebrows in surprise. I wasn’t slouching or being nonchalant—I appeared attentive.

“How are you today Isabella?” he asked. He started writing on his notepad again, glancing up at me occasionally.

After a moment I cleared my throat. “Fine, sir. And you?”

He stopped writing briefly and smiled. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you adjusting well to living outside the facility?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s taking some getting used to, but it’s nice.”

He smiled. “I bet.” He started looking through some papers, pulling one out and putting it on top of the stack “We’re going to start fresh, start from the beginning. Any problem with that?”

I paused. “No problem,” I whispered.

“Good. We’ll start out easy. Tell me about how you came to live in Forks.”

I relaxed slightly… this wasn’t a topic I dreaded so I had no qualms sharing this story. I explained how Renee had remarried and I knew she was sad not being able to travel with Phil. I told him how I decided to go live with Charlie my junior year of high school, and about how it took some adjusting because Charlie and I barely knew each other. He asked me how my relationship with Renee fared after my move and I explained that we still spoke and emailed often, things had been good between us.

“Have you had any contact with your parents since coming here?” he asked. I shook my head no slowly. He nodded and scribbled something on his pad. “Have any of you attempted communication?”

“Uh, yeah. Phil and Renee have both sent me mail. I haven’t read it though.”

He said ‘hmmm’ and continued writing. “So let’s talk about how things in Forks initially went, how you adjusted to life there.”

I paused, unsure of what to say. “I made a few friends. School was fine; I made easy A’s. I didn’t see much of Charlie besides at dinnertime. He was working and fishing most of the time. But I was always somewhat of a loner so it didn’t bother me when Charlie would leave for days.”

“Tell me about your friends.”

I froze. He glanced up briefly when I didn’t answer and noticed my expression. “You don’t have to tell me about all of them. Pick one and tell me about that person.”

“Umm, well… there was a girl named Angela. She’s one of the nicest most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

“Did you spend a lot of time with her?” he asked.

“Not too much. Sometimes at lunch and a few times outside of school. She had a boyfriend she ended up spending most of her time with.”

“Did you have a boyfriend?” he blurted out. He raised his eyes to look at me, and by the expression on his face I realized he already knew the answer to this question.

I stammered. “Uh, umm… yea.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Uh… he was a nice, always opened doors for me. He was mysterious and fun. He played the piano…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. It hurt to even think of him, much less talk about him. I dreaded having to dredge it all back up.

“Did your father like him?”

“No.”

He nodded, writing something down. “And what happened to this boyfriend?”

“He left. His family moved on.”

“And that’s what ignited the events that led you here?” I nodded. “Am I correct that your father blamed your boyfriend for what was happening with you?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and muttered something under his breath. All was quiet for a moment as he scribbled on his notepad. “Isabella, tell me about the incident that occurred when you ran off to Phoenix.”

My eyes instinctively darted down to the crescent shaped scar on my wrist. “I, uh, got scared and ran away. He followed me to bring me back.”

“By ‘he’ you mean your boyfriend, correct?” I nodded. “And why were you scared?”

“I was scared because my emotions were all mixed up. I loved him more than I thought possible. I was afraid of getting in any deeper.” The words were a lie, but I had no other excuse to give. I very well couldn’t claim a savage vampire was chasing me for a thrill.

He nodded, as if he understood. “And your boyfriend came to convince you to go back. Tell me about the accident that occurred there.”

“I tripped and fell down some stairs and went through a window. I’ve always been clumsy.” I spewed the story that had been concocted that day without even thinking. I’d told that lie so many times it was second nature at that point.

He didn’t look convinced but didn’t press the issue. He asked me a few more random questions concerning life in Phoenix and my parents. After awhile the alarm sounded, signaling our time was up. I stood up to leave and he stopped me.

“Isabella, one more question.”

I paused, turning to him. “Okay.”

“What was your boyfriends name?”

I froze. I opened my mouth to speak and no words came out. He stared at me, his expression slightly smug. He nodded after a minute, muttering to himself. He seemed to be confirming some suspicion he had.

“You are free to go.”

I started getting into a routine over the next two weeks. I’d go to work every day. On the days I had therapy, I’d leave work and go to the hospital. After therapy I’d sometimes go up to the third floor. Other times I’d leave right away and go for a walk through the city. Then I’d retire back to my apartment, cook dinner, and go to bed. On the days I didn’t have therapy, I’d leave work and head home to read a book before dinner and bed. I always made sure to make my obligatory call to the hospital to check in.

It was boring and monotonous but exactly what I needed. The days passed by quickly. The days I had off work were a bit harder. I had too much time to sit around and dwell on what led up to this point in my life. I’d go spend a few hours at the hospital on those days, sometimes venturing out into the city.

Therapy seemed to be going nowhere. I was still complying, but he had been sticking to topics that came easy for me. After I’d been unable to say his name our first session, I expected the worst. I expected to have him thrown in my face, for the therapist to delve in deep. But he surprised me when he hadn’t. He instead asked me about my childhood and growing up with divorced parents. He asked me about life in Phoenix and friends I’d had there. Not one mention of Forks or why I was in therapy at all… but I knew it was coming. We were slowly but surely running out of safe topics and soon he’d have to stop skirting around the issues.

It was Monday again, but I had off work. I woke up fairly early and stopped by the library to pick up my first paycheck. I was shocked by the amount, as I’d never even bothered to ask how much I’d be making. I automatically assumed it would be minimum wage but was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise. Denise came and picked me up at my apartment to take me to open up a bank account. I already had a bank account, but I it was drained dry and I figured it would be better to start new. All of the information for that account had been left behind in Forks, anyway.

I deposited my check and Denise dropped me back off at the apartment. It was only noon, so I had a few hours to spare before therapy. I decided to take a stroll to pass the time… I walked past shops and vendors, stopping occasionally to browse through things I really didn’t need. I stopped and grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of lemonade and headed for a park I’d passed by on one of my previous walks.

The park was pretty deserted. I sat down on a bench and opened my chips, popping one in my mouth. I sat for a while, munching and watching birds flying around. Joggers would run by occasionally and every now and then a mom pushing a stroller would come through, but besides them I was essentially alone.

I got up after awhile to throw my chip bag away and a weird feeling swept through me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I got a chill. I turned around quickly and scanned the area but didn’t see anything. It felt irrational, as there was no one around, but I got the distinct feeling like someone was looking at me.

After a moment I grabbed my lemonade and decided to head home. I kept turning around on the walk back, still having the feeling of being watched, but I never saw anyone. Instinctively I locked my door the moment I was inside of my apartment. I knew locks were fruitless, as the only people I truly feared would never be deterred by something as trivial as a flimsy metal lock. But it gave me the illusion of safety and that’s what I needed to shake off the feeling that overcame me.

I took a bath, to soothe my nerves, and then headed out to the hospital. I got there at the normal time, around 3:45, and waited to be called in. At exactly 4, my name rang out and I entered the office. He didn’t get up from his desk, nor did he even look up at me when I entered. I plopped down in the chair, waiting on him to start. He sat silently for a few minutes, writing and scanning through my chart.

After about five minutes of sitting in complete silence, he cleared his throat to finally acknowledge me.

“Isabella, what did your boyfriend say to you when he left?”

I sighed and closed my eyes. I knew this would be coming at some point, that we’d have to get into the real issues eventually, but I hadn’t been looking forward to it. And I surely didn’t feel ready for it either.

I opened my eyes to find him watching me expectantly. I could tell by the look on his face that there would be no changing of the topic. He wanted this addressed therefore we were going to.

“He said that he was moving on. I offered to go along with him since I was 18 but he said no. He said he didn’t want me and he was tired of pretending, and that he was leaving and he’d make sure it was like he never existed so I could move on.”

“And that was when you slipped into your first catatonic state, correct?” I nodded. “How were you feeling then?”

I huffed and laughed dryly. “I was destroyed; devastated. When it started sinking in, I was numb.”

“And how long did the numbness last?”

“A few months. It never truly went away, but it changed.” He looked at me oddly and jotted something down.

“What changed it?”

“Jake,” I said. I smiled slightly for the first time in our sessions. He seemed caught of guard by my smile.

“Tell me about Jake.”

“He was a family friend. He said he’d pull me out of my funk if it were the last thing he did. I was less numb with him but still wasn’t whole. But he’d do things with me to make all the hurt go away for awhile.”

“Bad things?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Slightly dangerous maybe but it was nothing too bad with him. It mainly consisted of hiking through woods and riding motorcycles. Anything to give me the small adrenaline rushes I needed.”

“How did the adrenaline rushes make you feel better? Did they make you forget your boyfriend?”

“No, the opposite. I could remember him better when I was doing something thrilling. I could almost see his face and hear his voice again when there was an element of danger involved.”

I looked at him carefully, wondering how he was taking what I said. I was worried telling him I actually could hear his voice would raise flags of hallucinations so I tried to tone it down a bit. He nodded and didn’t appear too alarmed.

“Isabella, was your boyfriend dangerous?”

I gasped at the question, caught off guard. “Um, dangerous?”

He nodded. “You sought out danger to remember him clearer. Did you do so because he, too, was a danger?”

I shook my head. “No, the opposite actually. When he left he made me promise I wouldn’t do anything stupid and I’d keep myself out of trouble. When I disregarded that and found danger, I could remember him because that’s what he was always passionate about. He was passionate about keeping me out of harms way. I could imagine him freaking out over my stupidity at putting myself in jeopardy.”

“Did your boyfriend ever physically hurt you Isabella? Was he abusive?”

I gasped. “No way!”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Are you lying? Is that really what happened in Phoenix, did he hurt you?”

I looked at him in shock, anger rising up. “Absolutely not! He would never hurt me! Edward always protected me!”

I gasped as his name slipped out and my hands shot up to cover my mouth. It was the first time I had spoken it since he left me. I felt pain shoot through me, the hole in my chest burning again.

Dr. Nelson looked just as shocked at first, before smiling and nodding. “So he does have a name. Edward, it is?”