Falling for my Husband's Brother

Chapter 17

I know it's been a while, but the last few weeks of school were really busy for me. I'm leaving in a couple days for two weeks, so I won't update at that time either. So for the time being, this is a chapter to enjoy.
There is self-harm in this chapter and I will include a warning of when it starts.

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And just like that: another funeral. I stood between Christian and Tessa, eyes focused on the lowering of the coffin into the ground; however, my mind was far away.
I know I should've payed more attention and respect towards the funeral- I was very aware it was my mother's- but I was locked into some kind of trance. The memory of my father nearly killing me, scarring me for life both mentally and physically, was etched into my brain, replaying over and over again.

My mouth didn't move, it spoke no words. I was physically unable to do anything else besides walk. When I was home, I didn't get out of bed besides to use the bathroom.
They tried to get me up, to get me to talk. But it was useless. They were all unsure if I could even hear them- though I can- but Tessa talks to me anyway. She's talked to me about Mom, and about this boy she's met that she really seems to like.
I'm not sure if it's shock, or depression. Maybe both. But I can't shower because then I see what my father has done to me and it's like reliving it all over again, which I have enough of in my sleep. I have nightmares nearly every night, but I can't scream. I wake up sweaty and out of breath, but I can't make any sound.

It's a curse, really. My family does nothing but worry about me, I'm constantly reminded of the day my father kidnapped me and that he's still alive somewhere, and I'm trapped inside my own head- which is not a very fun place to be.

I wonder if I should call a therapist.

The funeral ended, and I silently watched out the window as Christian drove the four of us to Wesley's. I was aware of everything. I could multi-focus between the coma I was stuck in and the world that existed around me.
Tessa sat in the front seat talking to me about few memories from our childhood that our mother actually acted like our mother, and Wesley sat in the back beside me, occasionally looking over at me for any sign of life.

We rolled up to the house, and I climbed out of the car. We headed inside, and I went back to my bedroom. I was also capable of dressing myself, though I didn't change out of shorts and a sweatshirt often considering I didn't like seeing myself undressed.
I crawled into bed, quietly wincing at the discomfort. Certain movements cause my healing wound to shift and slightly hurt. A doctor comes to the house once every week to check on the healing process, and gives me a neuro check to make sure I'm not brain dead.
If I could talk, I'd tell him he's stupid because clearly I can move and do things any normal person can aside from talking. I'd also tell Wesley to find a different doctor who understands the situation. Maybe a psychiatrist.

Weeks go by, the sun shines light into the room and then disappears into the darkness of the night like clockwork. The world continues moving but for me, it seems as if time is completely frozen.
It's like watching the scene from Twilight come to life.

Sometimes I lay there at night, a worried Wesley sleeping by my side, staring at the ceiling wondering if I'll ever get out of this. Wondering if it'll get better or worse... wondering if I'll even make it out alive.
I look out the window beside the bed. Snow still covers the earth even though it's now mid-April. I think that's one thing I love most about New York, it's drowning in snow nine months out of the year. The only exceptions are June, July, and August.

The doctor says I've nearly healed completely and that this would be his last visit. I wanted to say thank god, you failure of a doctor. However, I can't talk unfortunately.
Tessa and Wesley remained in the room after the doctor had gone.