A Day of Ruin

Chapter 22

Harlow

Itwasoneof those déjà vu moments. Except this time there was no stained carpet or cracks in the wall.

Instead the room was all white, void of any color or life. The smell of disinfectant lingered and I couldn’t scratch my nose from the itch it was causing because my fucking hands were bound to the bed.

“Oh, Harlow...”

I raised an eyebrow at Dr. Thomas, taken aback by his reaction. Like he was disappointed in me. Or maybe it was because he felt like he had failed. His tight face was expressionless but his lips were downturned just enough that I could register the surprise and dismay that he was experiencing.

Huh. Maybe I should become a therapist.

“Dr. Thomas... it’s been too long. We should stop meeting like this,” I said with a small half-laugh, my voice dry and croaky.

Thomas crossed his legs and rested his notepad on his knee as he looked at me in thought.

“Harlow. If things were that bad, you should have come back to therapy. We could have talked about it, got you help and support.”

He looked like he had aged a bit since I had last seen him, even though it really wasn’t that long ago. I turned my head away from him, looking at the window that separated me from the nurses’ station.

“Way to lay the guilt on me, Doc.”

Thomas sighed. “I just mean... I wanted to help you, despite your views that you didn’t have anyone on your side. And it is devastating to think you thought this was your only option.”

I said nothing as I watched the nurses laugh at the station, chattering amongst themselves. It baffled me that they had become immune to working in such a fucked up department. I guess they needed to have that emotional separation so that we didn’t bring them down too.

“Harlow,” Thomas pressed, trying to get my attention. “You have other options. We can get you help.”

“I don’t want help,” I snapped looking at Thomas. He raised an eyebrow at my uncharacteristic attitude.

“I see,” he said, looking at his notes. “It says here that it looks like you also recently self-harmed, as well as comments from concerned friends that you may have an eating disorder.”

I laughed again, nodding to my body which was dressed in a light blue gown. “I’m clearly not anorexic. I don’t have an eating disorder.”

Thomas hummed, looking at me curiously. “Harlow, EDs are very complex. People often just think anorexia or bulimia, and anything outside of that is normal. There are many different types or variations of EDs such as disordered eating or OSFED. They aren’t the most well known ones, but they are still recognizable as each one has different symptoms and characteristics. Think of things like body dysmorphia too. Nonetheless, the mere fact you are restricting your eating, meets criteria for one. I know that is hard to hear, but there’s help. You still have hope.”

I shook my head, embarrassed as tears spilled. “I don’t have hope. That’s gone. I just want to be with my family, away from all the toxic hate from people here. Everyone hates me, except for you and that’s only because I pay you.”

Thomas looked at me in surprise, his eyes widening slightly. “Is that what you think? I think you have misread me, Harlow. But that aside, there’s three young gentlemen who seem to care about you very much. As well as a really loud and boisterous red and black haired girl.”

It was my turn to show surprise as I turned to look out the window. I couldn’t see anyone and I hadn’t had any visitors but how would Thomas know about them otherwise.

As if reading my thoughts, Thomas nodded. “They have been here. The men haven’t left, and the young lady... well, she’s made her presence known downstairs very well. Lots of threats that we better be looking after you.”

“But...” I looked at him, “I haven’t seen them.”

He smiled sadly. “They don’t allow visitors for the first 48 hours. At least until they can properly assess and stabilize patients. But rest assured, you have a family here waiting for you.”

A family.

I briefly remembered seeing them in my bedroom. They had all been there – Dex, Finn and Bryson. The details were a bit hazy and I had this shitty brain fog hanging around but I remembered them.

Weird feelings swirled in my chest and stomach and I tried to push them back. I didn’t want to have hope. Hope didn’t get me anywhere. I was just constantly disappointed and let down. I swallowed and changed the subject.

“What’s in that?” I asked, nodding towards the IV in my arm.

Thomas looked at the pole attached to the IV. “It’s a sedative. To help keep you calm. As well as some pain relief I believe. Your arm is probably sore. I’m told that the surgeons mended the wound. They tried to use a mixture of glue and tape sutures where possible to help reduce the risk of scarring.”

I shrugged. “Who cares?”

“You will, Harlow. Right now your brain is in a lock and you’ll be so focused on the ‘now’ that the future is a strange perception for you. But one day, when this is over, you’ll remember there’s a future you. Little decisions like this will help. We are all fighting for you.”

“What if I don’t want to fight?” I asked, tears hitting the ugly blue gown as they dripped off my face.

Thomas leaned forward, capturing my stare. “You will. Because despite how you feel right now, there’s another Harlow in there that will come out swinging when she’s ready. She’s just a little tired right now.”

I looked at him in silence, taken aback. He continued as he packed up his notepad.

“Just remember though. When we’re tired, we take a nap. Then we get right back up again.”