Break Me-A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Epilogue

1 month later

It's cold now, the leaves have fallen from the branches of the trees, leaving them bare and exposed. A frigid chill encompasses the air, freezing us all to the bone. The Holiday Spirit gleams within nearly everyone, with Christmas and Hanukkah looming in the distance, so close, but not quite there. A happiness has settled among those near and far.

I neatly fold the last of my clothing, and place it carefully into my suitcase, humming to myself as I do so. A sudden knock on the door catches my attention, and I lift my head in acknowledgement as my main nurse enters my room.

"Bella?" She pokes her head in first, making sure I'm decent, before moving her body fully into the space. "Your parents are here to pick you up."

An excitement wells up inside of me, unable to be contained. A stupid smile spreads out on my lips as I gleam up at my nurse.

"Really?" I chirp rhetorically, zipping up my suitcase, then lifting up the handle so it's ready to be wheeled away.

My nurse smiles a sad smile at me, happy for my excitement, but sad for my departure. She tugs me in for a warm embrace, then pulls back and rests her hands on my shoulders.

"You deserve this, Bella. You've come so far and I'm so proud of you." She tells me earnestly, causing another bittersweet smile to erupt on my features.

"Thank you. For everything." I say. She steps aside, allowing me to exit my temporary room once and for all.

One month ago, I attempted to take my own life. I was in a dark place, and I felt as though I had no one to turn to. I was sad, and lonely, and lost, and afraid, and downright stupid, but my feelings got the best of me, causing me to put them before anything else. One month ago I was stuck.

Today I am different.

Today I am able to articulate my feelings into words, able to say how I'm feeling, and recognize that it's okay to feel that way. Today I am ready to take on life, take control of it, and go on full speed ahead. Today I am not sad or depressed, today I am balanced, and calm.

There have been bad days and good days here at the hospitals. The bad days felt like the end of the world, like nothing would ever be the same. But I got through them. They became less frequent. I soon began to recognize my own happiness, I began to see a glimmer of light forming within the darkness in my head. I began to feel hopeful.

I never thought I would reach the point of full recovery, but I am close; I have been running in this race for some time now, and the finish line is directly ahead of me, and as long as I continue to go straight, I will reach it.

A million thoughts buzz around the crowded space in my mind, each one filled with joy and hope, some anxieties, but an overall sense of accomplishment. I'm ready to face the world again, which is a lot more than I could have said for myself a month ago.

As I reach the lobby of the psychiatric unit, I tug at the sleeves of my sweater, hoping to retain some of the lost body heat. I no longer worry about what was once hidden beneath the sleeves of my shirts. Yes, my scars remain, as they will for some time, but I don't feel a gnawing ache to reopen them, and watch blood fill the open spaces of my skin. I am freed of that burden.

"Bella!" The shriek of my mother causes all heads to turn towards us, but I don't mind. My bags are dropped to the floor with a thud, as I race over to where my parents stand. I am enveloped in a bone-crunching hug, my mother's faint sniffles sound lightly through my ears.

"My baby!" She pets my hair, smiling through her tears.

I pull away from her, only to be tugged close by my father. The strength of his embrace mimics my mothers, but I don't mind. It feels good to be held.