Ch 8 - Hysteria

It's holding me, morphing me
And forcing me to strive
To be endlessly cold within
And dreaming I'm alive

“Hysteria” – MUSE

“I get out tomorrow, I think,” Darren said as I sat down beside him on the couch. I had the day off work so I had a few obligatory hours to spend at the hospital. I was waiting to be called to the conference room to discuss the terms of my treatment before therapy.

“That’s awesome, about time!” I said, genuinely glad. Darren had already been here when I arrived.

“Yeah well, you only had a six month skit. I got a year in this shit hole.”

“I just can’t imagine what the hell you could’ve done to deserve having to spend that long here.” He grinned mischievously and shook his head.

“You don’t even want to know.”

Most of the people on the floor were voluntarily committed, or committed by family members for assistance. For the most part, they could be released at any time and some of them came and went frequently. Darren and I were the rare exceptions. We were the only ones here that were committed for a set amount of time, with mandatory restrictions. We weren’t allowed the same flexibility as the others.

“So does that mean you’ve got a group of people downstairs conspiring against you like I do?” He laughed.

“Paranoid, are you? Here I thought I was the schizophrenic in the relationship,” he said playfully. I mouthed ‘fuck you’ with mocked anger. He laughed harder, shaking his head.

“Such language from a young lady,” he said, t’sking.

I smiled but didn’t respond. Cursing was another bad habit I’d developed toward the end of my life in Forks. Charlie had despised it.

The phone rang at the nurse’s station, startling me. I yelped and jumped up, looking around. Darren shot me a weird look. “You really are paranoid,” he said.

I rolled my eyes, sitting back down. I had been on edge ever since leaving therapy the day before. I had that irrational feeling of being watched again during my walk home, and the feeling didn’t subside after getting to my apartment. My phone rang twice the night before; both times the number blocked from caller ID and when I answered no one was there--nothing but complete silence. It had my nerves shot and I was considering asking for a prescription for Xanax during my session today, but given our conversation was going to entail talking about my drug addiction I doubted asking for some was wise.

The nurse called for Darren to head downstairs and I wished him luck. I grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels. Marianne came and sat down beside me. I gave up finding something to watch, stopping randomly on a commercial for toothpaste and dropped the remote on the table. I laid my head back and closed my eyes, sighing.

“They’re real, you know,” Marianne whispered after a few minutes. I smiled and opened my eyes, looking at her. Her face was completely serious. I sat up, giving her my attention. She always had a good conspiracy theory to pass the time. She still feared the owls that were apparently watching.

“What’s real?” I asked. She pointed at the TV. I looked over, confused momentarily by what was on, until I saw the unmistakable image of Sarah Michelle Gellar. My eyes widened in surprise… I was watching Buffy.

“Vampires,” she finally whispered, seeing my expression.

I sat quietly, stunned, unsure of how to respond.

“They’re always watching, waiting in the shadows,” she said after a moment. “You should be careful, I don’t know what they want.”

She got up and walked away without saying another word. Fear shot down my spine. I knew she was mentally unstable and wasn’t to be believed, but she had spoken the truth this time. I knew for a fact that vampires did exist. And she just confirmed what I’d been afraid to admit to myself, she had spoken out loud my greatest fear.

That my recent anxiety and paranoia wasn’t unfounded. That someone was watching me, waiting in the shadows, and not just any someone--an immortal. And the possibilities of who that person could be frightened me.

It wasn’t the first time Marianne had made sense. A few months ago I had witnessed an argument between her and one of the doctors. The doctor ordered her sedated because she got riled up when he told her that mind readers didn’t exist, that it was impossible for anyone to ever hear her thoughts. She insisted otherwise and got very upset… I felt horrible for days afterwards, watching her be restrained and sedated for telling the truth and not doing anything about it. But at that point I’d already learned that I needed to look out after myself first and foremost, and agreeing with the paranoid schizophrenic when she went on a conspiracy rant wasn’t the greatest way to do that.

I’d been so lost in though that I hadn’t heard the phone ring or someone call my name. I was brought back to the present by a hand grasping my shoulder, shaking lightly. The nurse stood there, smiling.

“Are you okay Isabella?” she asked. I nodded. “They called for you to go down.” She looked concerned and I realized she probably had been alarmed, considering I was diagnosed as catatonic and I hadn’t been responding.

“Thanks,” I said. “I was daydreaming.” She nodded in understanding and walked away.

I made my way down the elevator. I passed Darren in the hallway and he smiled brightly so I imagined he had received good news. I hesitantly opened the door to the conference room and stepped inside.

I sat down and they quickly begun. They were pleasantly surprised with my progress and stated they were going to notify the person in charge of my case of the recent developments. They were recommending that therapy continue 2 days a week now and that all other restrictions be lifted besides the obligatory random drug tests.

I thanked them as we filtered out of the room. I followed Dr. Nelson down to his office and plopped down in the chair for our session. He smiled and set the timer, picking up his pen.

“Yesterday we started talking about the drugs, and I think we should continue with that subject. The first time it was slipped to you without your knowledge, causing you to imagine Edward was there. You ended up voluntarily seeking out the drugs, for repeat hallucinations. Correct?”

I nodded.

“I’m not going to ask where you got the drugs, but I do want to know the progression of them. What did you start with?”

“GHB. It was the one that caused it to happen, so logically that’s what I went for.”

“Was there ever a time when the GHB didn’t work? When you didn’t see Edward?” I shook my head no. “But you did experiment with other drugs.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t always get my hands on GHB. I ended up getting desperate a few times and taking whatever it was I could get my hands on. GHB was a bit pricey and not as easy to obtain.”

“How did you afford the drugs?” he asked. He already knew the answer to this question but looked at me expectantly, obviously wanting me to admit it and discuss it.

“I wiped out my savings. When that was all gone and I got desperate, I siphoned off of Charlie.”

He sighed. “By siphoned, you mean stole right? Because essentially that’s what you did, you stole.” I nodded hesitantly, not liking the word but knowing it was true. “What happened after Charlie realized you stole from him? What did you do then?”

“I stole from others,” I whispered.

“And these other drugs you tried, did they work?”

“Sometimes,” I said. He nodded and scribbled something down. He tapped his pen against the pad and appeared to be deep in thought.

“Exactly how often did the hallucination of Edward occur?”

“It started out once or twice a day, until eventually he never went away as long as I had the drugs.”

“It seems to me, Isabella, that your addiction wasn’t to the drugs, it was to Edward.”

I stared at him, no trace of humor on my face. I wanted to yell ‘no shit, Sherlock’ but thought better of it. It had never been about the drugs or getting high, it had always been about him. I had become addicted to feeling whole again.

“And I’m worried about that. You detoxed from the drugs and you went into the rehab program, but we’ve never detoxed you from Edward,” he said, laying his pen down.

I sighed. “I’m over him, over it all.” It was a complete lie, and we both knew it. He laughed humorlessly, picking his pen back up.

“Tell me Isabella. If you’re over him, why is it you still can’t say his name?”

“I can too,” I said. He scoffed.

“Okay then, do it. Tell me. Tell me his name, the whole thing. And do it without wincing, without having to physically hold yourself together.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, anger boiling up. He sat still, looking at me expectantly. “Edward…” I said after a moment. Before I could get the rest of his name out, I instinctively recoiled, closing my eyes.

I sat silent, waiting for an, ‘I told you so’, expecting him to be smug. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised. He had a look of understanding on his face, his eyes sympathetic.

“We’ll work on it,” he said simply. “It’ll take some time, but one day you’ll be able to do it.”

He glanced at the timer and looked through his notes. “I’m going to change the topic for now, but I want you to know the next few sessions are going to focus on Edward.”

I nodded, understanding. I dreaded having to hash out the subject of Edward, not knowing what exactly I’d say, but knew it was inevitable.

He looked up from his notes. “Were you and Tyler Crowley ever friends?”

I laughed humorlessly. “I don’t know if you’d call us friends, but we were acquainted.” I paused, thinking of something I could say about Tyler that would change the direction he was going. “He nearly killed me when I first arrived in Forks.”

He looked surprised. “Really? How so?”

“He was speeding, it was icy out. His van skidded out of control and came straight for me in the school parking lot, nearly crushing me against my truck. And it would’ve, if….” I trailed off.

“If what?” he asked.

I sighed. “If he hadn’t saved me.”

He looked at me for a moment, confusion clouding his face before realization seemed to dawn. “By he, you mean…?” he asked, nodding.

“Yes,” I said. He looked at me expectantly again and I realized I was going to have to say it. “Edward,” I muttered.

“So he saved your life?”

“Yeah. He realized what was happening and knocked me out of the way. He…uh… had quick reflexes.”

“Were you two dating at that time?”

I thought back and laughed. “No. We’d barely spoken to each other at that point and most of our exchanges were hostile. We, uh, got off on the wrong foot I guess you could say. But he saved me anyway, not even thinking twice, despite the fact that he despised me at the time.”

“Wow, that’s progress,” he said. I looked at him questioningly. “You not only freely shared some of your history with Edward, but you managed a laugh at the same time.”