Back to You (Sequel to Take Me Away From Here)

Chapter 23

Faith POV: 

I feel trapped... It's like somedays, I feel fine and like I'm my old self again. Then others, I just want to hide away. Those days seem to be coming more frequently now. It's almost like I step out of myself and completely snap. I don't want to be mean or rude, but it just happens, and I don't understand why. 

I know I'm frustrated. I used to be more than self-sufficient, and I never really needed to rely on someone to survive.  My father was so brutal that I knew how to take care of myself from a very young age, and although I don't do well outside of relationships, that need was simply emotional. I've never needed someone to take care of my physical needs. I've never needed someone to tell me when to eat, or to help me brush my hair, or even bathe. 

My coordination isn't fantastic, and my scar was gotten irritated a couple times, so the doctor wants Tim to help with things that involve me messing with my hair. Then there's the entire eating debacle... I never feel hungry, which any girl who struggles to lose weight would probably love. Tim tells me when to eat, and how much, although it all makes me feel sick. I guess not eating doesn't exactly make me feel great. The only way I know when I'm hungry is when I throw up stomach acid, or pass out... I know Tim is trying to help when he's pushing food in front of me, but he has no clue how sick I feel. Forcing myself to eat is so nauseating and painful, even though I know I need it. The doctor said that if I don't follow the schedule Tim's been going off of, they'll have to do a feeding tube that I'd use overnight. I'd love to avoid getting to that point... 

I hate living like this. I hate being a prisoner in my own body. I've thought about taking the easy way out... a lot... but normally I push the idea away before I can think much further about it. Today's different... Today, I snuck the pills out of his cabinet. Today, I found his stash of whiskey he's been keeping from me. Today, I left a notebook of my thoughts over the last two years on his desk, waiting to show him what I've been going through. I've been staring at the pills since before breakfast, and I've been thinking about it all night. I doubted it, until our exchange set my mind ablaze. 

I pour out a handful of the pills, and open up the bottle of whiskey, running my thumb across the mound of pills. I start to lift my hand toward my mouth, when I hear a deep exhale. 

"What are you doing?" His voice rasps quietly. I turn my head, seeing him leaning against the doorway. He watches from a far, for some reason not intervening until just now. I glance down at the pills, running my thumb across them once more. He staggers toward me, grabbing the pill container, and sliding the little pills out of my palm. He sets them down on the dresser, grabbing onto the whiskey and putting the cap on it once more. He places it on the floor, sitting down on the bed, right beside me. "We need to talk." He says softly. My mind is running too fast to speak. We sit in silence for a moment, before he inhales deeply. "Faith, why were you about to take those pills?" He asks quietly, like it's a secret between us. I shrug, looking down at my hand, which still has a film of white powder across it from the pills. He follows my eyes down to my hand, before sighing. "I've been standing in the doorway for the last ten minutes, watching you stare at your handful of pills..." He admits, appearing worn. I run my fingers across the dust, watching it clear a path. 

"I'm sorry..." I release under my breath, shutting my eyes tightly. He grabs onto my hands, pulling me toward him a little. 

"Faith, look at me." He demands. I open my eyes, feeling them burn with tears. What is wrong with me? "Don't you ever try something like that again, do you understand me?" He asserts, once again treating me like a child. 

"I don't want to be like this anymore." I cry out quietly, feeling myself shake with my tears. He looks down at me, before looking up to the heavens for strength. He squeezes my hand, before looking back at me with tears in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, while looking down at my hand. He turns it over, running his fingers across the lines on my palm. 

"I know that this is different... I know you're in pain, and you're uncomfortable, baby, I do... Please don't do something like that. Please." He seems to beg, a stray tear forcing it's way out. "I know I haven't always done what's right with taking care of you, and I know that we see things very differently. I'm just trying to make you happy, and I feel like my hands are tied at times, and you wind up screwed in the end." He expresses, leaning forward a bit. He stops for a moment, inhaling deeply as he thinks through his words. "I don't know how to do this any better... I don't know the right way to take care of you. I feel... I feel like I'm the one stealing your independence, but if I step back and let you take care of yourself, you'll wind up starving yourself to death, or forgetting medication, or... who knows... And that terrifies me. The thought of losing you terrifies me." He admits, seeming to be rather shaken. I look down at my hand, hearing myself sniffle. "Faith, I still love you... I'd still lose a limb for you, I'd still stop a train for you, I'd still give my heart for you... I just need you to hold on for me." He says, his tears now flowing a little more freely. 

"Why? What's the point?" I sob, feeling my heart pound. "All I do is lie here, and think about the way things were, and how I can't even think straight... It's like my thoughts are someone else's and I don't understand it, and it scares me, Tim. There's nothing good happening to me..." I argue, watching it hit him hard. He places a hand over his mouth, before looking toward the door. 

"Your daughters... they'd kill to have you around a little more." He tries to point out, while I look down at my knees. "I read through that journal you left on my desk, and I really think you could start writing songs again. I know music always would help you think." He offers, bringing up a good idea. I never really thought about songwriting again... "I think we could probably use a little time together too. I know things have been a little strained, but I still love you like crazy... We just need to learn how to talk to each other without placing blame on ourselves." He says softly, while I nod. "You've always been the most independent woman I've known... So it's time to relinquish some of that, and I know it's hard, baby, I'm not a fool. But you have to be healthy, and happy, in order for our family to go on, alright? We aren't going to leave you behind." He says, making me turn my head. He places his hand on my cheek, wiping away my tears. "I promise." He whispers.