Page 43 of Since She's Been Gone

“Beans? Are you okay?” he asked, now sounding very alert and worried.

“My roommate died.” I sounded more like a scared little girl than a defiant ED patient.

“Oh … I’m so sorry.” His voice wobbled and he coughed, clearly trying to cover his fear.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice cracking.

“You’ve had to deal with so much loss,” he said.

He was right about that.

“Are you okay, Beans?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said, honestly, for once.

Since ED had gotten a hold of me, he had done an excellent job of repeatedly reminding me how worthless and horrible I was, so much so that I’d begun to believe that’s why Mom had been taken away from me. I’d also started to think nobody would care if I vanished into thin air, that it didn’t matter if I died.

But Emily’s death struck something deep inside me, igniting a life force that had been dormant for many months. A reminder that maybe I didn’t want to die.

ED could threaten to abandon me and tell me I would have nobody if I didn’t listen to him. But what he couldn’t do was guarantee that I wouldn’t die if I continued following his orders because, now, I had concrete proof that I could. My roommate had died. She was gone forever and never coming back, just like my mom.

“The thing is … I’m scared of dying,” I told Dad.

“I’m scared of that too,” he said, trying to muffle his cries. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” This time, I meant it. It wasn’t a manipulation ED had masterminded to help get me out of Better Horizons. It had just slipped out, unconsciously, like old times.

Dr. Larsen appeared at the door of the nurses’ station. “Are you okay, Beatrice?” she asked me.

“I’m talking to my dad,” I said.

“I’m glad,” she said. “I’ll be waiting in your bedroom after you finish.”

After I hung up with Dad, I walked back to the room. She was there, sitting on Emily’s bed.

“How was your call?” she asked.

“Okay, I guess,” I said.

“I want you to know that I’m really glad you’re here,” she told me.

It was an incredibly generous thing to say, given how abysmal my behavior toward her had been, and I didn’t understand why she had said it.

“Why?” I asked her. “I’m not a particularly nice or good person, especially to you.”

“I think you’re a good person who’s been through a lot,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, unconvinced.

“I also think the world is better with you in it. You may not believe it because of all the lies ED has told you, but I know one day you will.”

I slid into my bed and lifted the thin sheet over my body. “Can I have my blanket back?” I asked her.

“Not yet,” she said. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s ED I don’t trust. For now, I need to keep you safe from him.”

“Okay.”

Unlike before, I wasn’t angry with her. Something had shifted. If I wanted to live, I would need her help. For the first time since I’d arrived at Better Horizons, her intervening felt like a relief.

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