Voices |E. Cullen|

TWENTY-ONE

The dosage of my medication was raised. I noticed a big improvement in my mood, intrusive thoughts, and disassociation. The voices weren't hallucinations, they weren't going to go away from meds. My energy was better, my affect was brighter, and I was able to concentrate more than usual. It was kind of hard to go to therapy when you couldn't explain what was stressing you out so much. The closest thing I had to a therapist who could actually understand would be Edward, but because of my feelings for him, the next best person would be Alice.

So that's what we ran with. Alice and I would go out on trips that involved her looking for new clothes and us sitting in the dressing room while she tried them on and I spilled all the contents of my brain.

"How has the noise been these past couple of days?" She asked as she shrugged on a light sweater to pair with some dark denim jeans.

"It's not so bad. I think it comes in waves. It's almost like there's more people on days that I'm already stressed or sleep deprived," I tried to make it sound like we were talking about apartment neighbors just in case someone else was listening in.

"How has your sleep been lately?"

I glanced at the mirror. The underneath of my eyes were almost purple. My hair looked dull and my eyes were tired. I dragged my gaze back to her as she slipped out of one outfit and into the next. "Restless."

"Is there anything that's been keeping you up lately?"

I couldn't tell if I was hyper sexual or just plain lonely in terms of a romantic relationship. I'd always found beauty in Alice, but at that moment I found myself romanticizing her qualities. Like how her honey-gold eyes caught the light around the mirror or how her voice sounded kind of like wind chimes. I shook myself out of it, mentally, and stared at the floor.

"Besides seeing my brother with his throat slit, watching his death, my mother abandoning me, my father having been dead for several years, mixed signals from Edward, and barely being able to walk 20 yards without getting exhausted?" I sighed, "Not much else."

She frowned when she looked at me through the mirror. "I wish there was something I could say or do to make it all better. Next to no one has ever had to go through the things you did regarding your brother. Having one parent gone is hard enough, but both is even worse."

I shrugged, "It's stuff I have to get used to. I got past my dad's death. My brother and I worked through it together. But there's no family I can turn to for my brother's passing."

She almost giggled, "It's not funny, but I'm sure you could trauma bond with Esme and Rosalie. It's a different kind of trauma, but trauma none the less." I played with the fabric at the end of my shirt. "Sometimes it's easier to get through hard times when you know that you're not alone in struggling or feeling the way you feel."

"Do you think Rosalie would even think about spending one second with me?" I laughed lightly.

Alice swatted the idea away as if it were something physical in the air. "She doesn't hate you. She's just not one to socialize all that much. She's not a huge fan of the stuck-at-18-life. It makes her a bit depressed."

She slipped out of the dressing room and motioned for me to stay put. I looked down at my shoes and messed with the laces, pulled each component straight, and rested my feet back down on the ground. Sitting still was not in my skill set. My leg bounced and I clicked a button on my phone so that it would light up and I could see new messages, even though nothing changed from ten minutes ago.

I returned to looking at my reflection in the mirror. My entire appearance was atrocious. This always happened when I would go through a bad spell. Sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt covered most of my body. Skate shoes protected the bottoms of my feet. My hair was brushed at one point but you couldn't tell. I looked so tired, my skin was dehydrated and overall I just looked rough.

Alice bounced back into the dressing room with a few articles of clothing. "Now I don't want to hear any arguing," she started, "but I'm taking the initial steps to dig you out of this. First things first, clothes that actually fit you."

I knew I needed to wear something different. I hated reaching the point where I noticed I looked like shit because there was nothing that was going to bring me back to normal as fast as I wanted. Nonetheless, I took hold of a light grey quarter sleeve after shrugging out of my black XXL band tee and thanked the stars that I at least slipped a bra on before going out. Then light denim jeans replaced my baggy grey sweat pants. My shoes remained and actually went quite well with the rest of the attire.

"Good" she nodded approvingly. I went to switch out and back into my other outfit so that we could bring the new attire up to the counter. "Don't bother, they're already rung up."

"You know you don't have to do that," I pushed my tangled hair behind my ear and stared at my shoes.

"Nonsense," she shook her head and took hold of my hand, "next we'll take care of that," in reference to my hair.

We stepped out of the shop and moved toward the parking lot where my replacement vehicle sat. Insurance luckily covered the cost to replace as it would have been more expensive to fix. She opened the trunk of the Grand Cherokee and patted the floor. I took a seat and crossed my legs as I waited for her to complete whatever was in her mind. She pulled out products from her bag and went to work. Detangler spray allowed her to work through the rat's nest on top of my head, light concealer and foundation brought the dead to life. When I looked in the side mirror again, I felt more normal, a good first step.