Family is Forever (Sequel to Running on Insulin)

Chapter 11

Samantha spent another couple of days in the hospital.  The nurses and the doctors wanted to make sure her diabetes was stable, which it was. 

Jake came to the hospital on Sunday to talk to her. Samantha grasped for me as soon as he walked in the room. Even though Brendon and Sarah were now able to come in and even stay with her for a while so Jenna or I could go to the bathroom or go grab some food, we figured out that anyone, especially men, that were unfamiliar to Samantha, now terrified her. 

Jake asked her about the week with Stanley and Gillingham. She didn't answer him. He asked if she could tell him anything about that week. She shook her head, no. He asked if she could remember anything and she shook her head no, again. 

"Samantha," Jake had said. "I need to talk to you about Stanley."

She shook her head violently, no, and pressed her face into my chest. I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed her back.

"We've tried to mention to her that he's gone. I don't know if she believes us or not," I said. 

"Samantha," Jake said. She kept  her face pressed into my chest. "Samantha, I can confirm, Stanley is dead."

She kept her face pressed to me and covered her ears with her hands. She didn't want to hear anymore. I looked at Jake and shrugged. 

"I'm sorry," Jenna said. 

Jake smiled.

"It's okay. Just keep telling her, as gently as possible, I guess," he suggested. "And if she does remember anything, please get in touch with me.  We want to check out some of what Gillingham has said to corroborate."

"She has selective mutism, according to her doctor," I said. "She hasn't said a word since she woke up."

Jake nodded, asked us to let him know when and if she started talking again, and then said goodbye.  As soon as he left, Samantha peeked out from my chest. 

"It's okay, baby girl. He's gone," I said. 

Tuesday morning, they  let us bring Samantha home.  Jenna sat with her in the back seat of our car while Josh sat up front while I drove. Samantha was curled into Jenna like her life depended on it. For all we knew, at this point, it did. 

"Okay, sweet girl," Jenna said as we pulled into the driveway, once we got past the reporters still camping out at the end of the driveway. "We're home, baby."

Jenna helped Samantha out of the car and I brought her bag of belongings into the house. Her clothes had been taken by the police for evidence. 

We walked into the house, and Jenna held on to Samantha. Brendon and Sarah were still there, and welcomed us home. 

"Hey, Sam," Brendon said, coming up to her. "Welcome home. Happy to be out of that place?"

Samantha shrugged. 

"Sam?" Jenna said. "Do you want to hang out down here? Or take your stuff upstairs?"

Samantha took her bag of stuff from me and went up to her room. Alone.  I sighed. 

"Has she said anything?" Brendon asked, as he watched her go up the stairs, slowly. I shook my head. 

"Nothing. Just the screaming when she has a nightmare. Otherwise, not a word."

"She'll get there," Sarah said. "It'll take time. Jess."

She stopped and swallowed hard. 

"Jess had a hard time talking about her assault for a while. Not that I'm comparing this at all. Just that I know it's hard to know there's something in there she probably wants to tell you, or just be able to talk about, and know that she just can't get it out."

"It's just so hard right now," Jenna said. "We want to know what happened, but she's so traumatized, that we don't want to make things worse, and of course, part of us doesn't want to know what actually happened. But the worst part is, we just don't know what's happening in her head, and she doesn't act like she wants to tell us. It's not like she's got something on the tip of her tongue that she just can't get out. There's nothing. She's... it's  like she's completely shut down."

"It's trauma. You told us what Dr. Freud said. She's experienced acute and severe trauma, and spent part of that week, evidently, in a sort of, locked in state. It's going to take time."

I  nodded. 

"I know. I know. I just," I sighed. "I don't want to sound like I want her to rush through healing, that's not it at all. I just wish she could talk to us and tell us something. Something about how she's feeling, or what she's thinking, or what she wants us to do. I want to treat her like we did before the abduction, but I don't know if that's the right thing to do. I don't want to treat her like a baby, but I don't now what else to do."

"You'll figure it out.  You all will. Her doctor's coming to the house, yeah?"

"Yeah. And Jenna set up a tutor to come. That'll be next week. We asked them to make sure it was a woman, because I feel like a male tutor would be very bad. We're going to ask her if Jill can bring her her homework and visit."

"I think you guys are going to be fine. She needs time and patience. You'll get there," Brendon said. 

I flopped down onto the couch. Brendon sat beside me and Jenna and Sarah came in with cups of coffee for us.  Josh brought in a bag of chips he was munching on. The five of us sat quietly, drinking our coffee and all of us in our own minds. 

Jenna suddenly burst into tears. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, sniffling as I moved closer to her and took her in my arms. 

"What's the matter?" I asked. 

"Samantha. I just, I just wish I knew how we could help her. I feel like she's pushing us out."

"Honey, I don't think she's pushing us out, so much as being afraid to let us in. We'll get there. She's going to be okay."

"I hope so. Because we worked so hard to have her learn to trust us, and to be able to do her insulin, and all that work, and he destroyed it all. I know he's dead and I  know they say not to say anything ill of the dead, but I hate him so much!"

I started laughing. 

"What's so funny?" Jenna said, angrily. "Our daughter is hurting and it's his fault."

"I'm sorry," I said, continuing to laugh. "But I'm just picturing that asshole sitting down there in hell, because that's where he's got to be, and him feeling bad that you hate him. Like, he's sitting there with his feelings hurt, and, it's funny because, I don't know. I like the thought that he's got any emotions whatsoever, and being surrounded by all that fire and brimstone and thinking 'Jenna's mad at me'. He deserves it, but, I don't know. I guess I need something to laugh at."

Brendon started laughing too.

"He's just sitting there in some grimy jumpsuit, with his chin in his hand, thinking 'nobody likes me," 

Eventually, we all started laughing. It made no sense that we were laughing, but it felt good.