Page 17 of Fighting the Darkness

My phone is charging. I can text my mom as soon as it has enough charge.

I need to get dressed before I do anything else.

Moving to my closet, I immediately head to my pile of Freyr’s clothes. I grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, pulling them on slowly. There’s no reason to rush. No matter how much I have to do, I need to not overwhelm myself. I need to take it at a comfortable pace, and if I don’t accomplish everything today, that’s okay.

I wish I could thank a therapist for knowing this, but since they’ve been useless, I had to turn to the internet. I’ve met a ton of people online who have shared their stories with me and others. It’s from this community I’ve learned that how I feel matters. That’s how I deal with those feelings isn’t wrong. That there are ways to cope with what I’m feeling.

Do I think everything I do is healthy? Not at all, but at least I’m trying. That’s what matters.

I trudge back to my bed, refusing to sit on it before the sheets get changed. Lifting my phone, I see that it’s already powered on. I have more than a few messages, and suddenly, I feel overwhelmed again.

Glancing at my bed, I shake my head. I grab my phone and charger, heading straight for Freyr’s room. My shoulders hunch as I step inside, as they always do when I realize once more that his scent is long gone. I head straight for his bed, pulling back the covers and crawling underneath them. Mom makes sure that the sheets are changed regularly. She might not be able to come into his room without falling apart, but she knows that it’s my safe space. She doesn’t understand it, or me, really, but she knows that nothing she says will change it.

I feel better now that I’m lying down, but I know I need to get my room back in working order—only I don’t have the energy for it. Instead, I pull up my text messages, ignoring the new messages until I find my mom’s name.

ME:Mom, can you send the housekeeper to my room? I need new sheets.

MOM:Of course.

MOM:Are you in Freyr’s room?

ME:Yes.

MOM:Do you need anything?

I have to stop and think about that. I know what she really wants is for me to eat, but my stomach turns at the idea of eating anything.

ME:Not now, but I promise I’ll eat dinner tonight.

MOM:Good. Let me know if you change your mind.

With that done, I turn back to my unread message. I find messages from Quinn, Wilder, and two unknown numbers. One is likely to be Vicki, but I’m not sure who the other would be from.

Pulling up Quinn’s, I see she sent me a list of gyms the day after the fight night. There have been a couple other messages from her asking how I’m doing.

I glance at the date and realize it’s been a week since the fight night. I feel like such a jerk. Quinn had been kind enough to send me a list of gyms and check on me, but her messages have gone unanswered. Who does that? This is why I don’t have friends. Who would want to deal with this mess?

Shaking my head, I type out a quick thank you for the list she sent me and apologize for the late response.

QUINN:Oh, good. I was beginning to worry about you.

QUINN:Are you okay?

I want to tell her I’m not okay—that I’m a mess. But I know I can’t. I barely know this woman. I already admitted more to her than I have anyone else? Why should I burden her with my friendship? I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to befriend her. Instead of responding, I leave her on read. I ignore Wilder’s messages, not ready to face his judgment or his special brand of douche. Clicking on the first unknown number, I smile when I see it’s Vicki.

VICKI:It was awesome meeting you. I’d love to hang out again sometime. Maybe grab some food?

ME:I’m so sorry for not responding right away.

ME:I’d love to meet up sometime. Now isn’t a good time though.

ME:I’ll message you when I’m feeling up to it, if that’s okay with you?

VICKI:I’m glad to hear back from you. Quinn and I were worried.

VICKI:But yes, whenever you’re feeling up to it. Just let me know.

VICKI:And if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I might not be going through the same exact thing as you, but I’m sure we’re feeling a lot of the same things.

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