-RORY-
As I entered Hindley’s room, I saw her sleeping peacefully. The only reminder she was in a hospital were the railings on either side of her bed and two IV bags hanging from a stand next to her.
“One’s an antibiotic so her wounds won’t become infected,” the nurse said as I investigated the bags. “The other is for fluids.”
“Can she hear me?”
“Some people don’t think so, but I believe she can. If there’s something you want to tell her, it’s all right. Even if she doesn’t remember as soon as she wakes up, your words will always be tucked away somewhere in the back of her mind.”
“How long will she be like this?” I waved my hand up and down her body.
“Unconscious, you mean?”
I nodded.
“It’s hard to say. Part of it’s the anesthesia, but most of it is her trying to keep her mind out of harm’s way.”
“From what?”
“Herself,” she said.
I surveyed Hindley’s motionless body and flinched at the thought of her hurting herself. I glanced up at the nurse and saw an expression that conveyed a wealth of empathy. She was connected personally in some way. As soon as the look came, it retreated, and her expression turned professional again as she continued to work around Hindley’s body. She plugged in machines and took her temperature before checking her blood pressure.
“When Hindley feels safe again, safe enough to handle the trauma she’s endured, she’ll wake up.” She paused in her efforts and came to stand in front of me. “But when she does wake up, you need to make sure you’re here for the right reasons. If you can’t handle this, her emotional trauma and the road she will have to travel to recover, then you need to leave. Now. Before she wakes up. She can’t afford more stress or turmoil, like you leaving her, not in the state she’s in.”
I nodded. “I’m here for the long haul.”
“I figured as much.” She nodded once then busied herself again, taking care of Hindley’s needs. “I saw your interview.”
I looked up and saw her tending to Hindley’s IV bags. I wasn’t surprised she’d seen the show. It was on national television. And it had been broadcast over the Internet for the world to watch.
“Do you know if she saw it?” I asked.
“No, I don’t know. Sorry.”
My heart sank.
“It would be a shame if she didn’t see it though.”
“Why?”
“Because anyone who saw it knows how much you love her.”
“Really?” Hope surged through me. If this stranger saw it, maybe Hindley had too.
“That’s the only reason Pam let you up here.”
“Who?”
“Pam, down at the front desk.”
Grandma Bear.
“She’s the gate-keeper of the fourth floor. She only lets up the good ones.” She turned toward me and winked. “Take care of her, Rory.” She stared at Hindley’s motionless body.
“It’s my mission in life,” I whispered, my eyes glued to the woman I loved.
“Good. Press the red button there on the bed if you need anything.”
I sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Can I touch her?”
The nurse came around and withdrew Hindley’s left arm from the sheets.
I gasped when I saw it was wrapped in gauze and an Ace bandage from her wrist just past her elbow. Fuck. What had she done to herself?
“Just be mindful of her arm,” she said. “Her right hand also has stitches.”
My stomach contracted in pain and my body trembled at the thought of how bad her injuries were, how much pain she was in.
“Just avoid those two places. Anywhere else on her body should be fine.” The nurse walked around to the other side of Hindley’s bed and slid out her other arm and I noticed Hindley’s right hand was completely covered with gauze.
I stared at Hindley’s injuries, having no clue how to help her.
“No one’s told you, have they?” she asked.
I shook my head. “They called it cutting, but I still don’t understand,” I admitted with a level of defeat in my voice that disappointed me.
“Sometimes, we go through situations in our life that are so traumatic, our minds can’t handle it,” she explained. “We all cope with it differently. Some people turn to religion. Some people, like you, turn to drugs and alcohol.”
I flinched at the reminder of how much she knew about my personal life, thanks to Paloma Monroe. I’d spilled it all out during my interview, my childhood, my partying, my womanizing, and my drugs and boozing. I’d promised myself from the very beginning of the show that I’d hold nothing back, and I hadn’t. I wondered if that decision had been a mistake, but the nurse didn’t seem fazed by my past.
“For others,” she continued, nodding toward Hindley, “they cut themselves.”
I shook my head, unable to wrap my mind around the idea that cutting yourself could help you feel better, numb the pain. “I just don’t get it.”
“When you’re in so much pain, emotionally, you’ll do almost anything to numb it, right?”
I thought about my own past, trying to relate it to Hindley’s situation.
“Why did you drink and do drugs, Rory?”
I shrugged, not wanting to analyze my own past, afraid of what I might find.
“You drank because you couldn’t handle the shame and guilt of your sister’s passing. In many ways, you blamed yourself, even though you couldn’t have stopped it if you wanted to.”
She was right, completely right. How had this woman been able to sum up my life by watching one interview?
“I’m a psychiatric nurse, Rory,” she said. “I don’t just take care of the physical needs of my patients, I take care of their mental and emotional needs as well. It’s just as important to their recovery. Maybe even more so than the physical injuries they’ve endured. Plus, I get it.” She pulled up her shirt sleeve to reveal tiny scars littered across the underside of her forearm.
She was a cutter too.
“For cutters,” she said, “the physical pain is an escape from our mental anguish, like drugs were for you. Even better than drinking and drugs though, cutting is free and available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Sharp objects are easily accessible, and if done right, no one even sees our injuries. That’s the blessing and the curse of cutting. We often go for years without anyone knowing how much we hurt inside, or out.”
I watched her speak but it was like an out of body experience.
“I lost you, didn’t I?” she asked with a hint of a smile.
“No.” I shook my head. “I get it, I think. It’s just hard to believe.”
“What?” She straightened Hindley’s IV bag.
“Knowing Hindley was in so much pain, enough pain to harm herself, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. It kills me.”
“Don’t you think your friends and family felt the same way when you were drinking and drugging?”
I froze at her revelation. I had never stopped to think about how my substance abuse had affected anyone else but me. Had they really been this worried and concerned for me?
“Anyone who loved you was just as worried as you are now,” she said.
“So what can I do to help her?”
“Just be there for her. Don’t judge her. Try to empathize.” The nurse stared at me.
I felt like she was judging me, trying to determine if she thought I was up for the task.
“Do you think you can do that, Rory?”
“Yes,” I whispered, reaching through the railing to stroke her upper arm.
“Reassure her that you’ll be there for her, especially when things get bad again. And they will.” She hesitated and I glanced up at her. “But I’m not kidding, Rory. You have the potential to take this girl over the edge.”
I felt sick to my stomach, knowing I had done this to her. Hindley had always been so strong and brave. I’d never considered how much power I could have over her recovery.
“If you don’t want to do this, if you can’t do this, then say goodbye to her, now.”
“No way.” I clenched my fists to keep from shouting. “I can’t exist without her. She’s my whole world. I love her.”
A smile spread across her face. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”
I breathed a sigh of relief at her words. She understood Hindley better than any of us. And she believed in me.
“I’ll bring you in some books and brochures to read about cutting.” Her eyes went wide.
I understood why. She’d assumed I could read. My illiteracy was now public knowledge, but surprisingly enough, it didn’t bother me anymore.
“I’ll go over them with you,” she said. “We can read through them together. Then we can talk about any questions you have.”
“Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.” I sagged back in the chair, thankful for her willingness to help me. I wondered how many other people would have withheld judgment and offered me help if I would have let them.
“No problem,” she said.
“Are you better now? You know, with the…” I nodded toward her arm.
She gave me a blank stare, obviously unaware of what I was referring to.
“With the cutting,” I said.
She looked down at her arm, rubbing it. “Oh, this? Yes, I’m better.” She paused and I felt like shit for bringing it up. “It doesn’t mean I don’t think about cutting.”
Fuck. Would Hindley have to deal with this the rest of her life? Probably. I had to keep my own shit in check to keep from drinking and drugging again.
“I have better coping skills now,” she said, “like you do with your addiction. When Hindley realizes she has the power to act differently, and learns better behaviors, she’ll come around too.”
She walked around Hindley’s bed, grasping the railing and staring down at my girl. “She’ll probably always fight the urge to harm herself. But it won’t be in a suicidal sense like some people think when they hear about cutters.”
My heart stopped and my world went dark as I thought about Hindley taking her own life. That wasn’t an option. I couldn’t exist without my Drunk Girl.
“We all have triggers, Rory, things that set off our self-destructive behaviors. If Hindley can figure out what those triggers are, if you can help her, then that will be half the battle.”
“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” I said in complete awe of the way she was so eloquently, yet so easily explaining such a complex disease.
“So I’ve been told.” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders.
I smiled, a real smile for the first time since Leif had received the call that Hindley was in trouble.
“She’ll be fine, Rory. Just let her get some rest, stay with her, talk to her, assure her you’ll be here when she wakes up, and eventually, she will.” She poured water into a small cup and inserted a straw into the lid. “She’ll probably be thirsty when she wakes up, so give her this.”
I nodded, setting the cup on the tray beside me.
“My phone number is there on the board.” She pointed up to a large white board on the wall. “Or push the red button like I showed you. I’ll leave you two alone for a while, but I’ll be back in a bit.” She tucked in a string from Hindley’s gown that had come loose, then patted her shoulder.
My heart settled into a steady beat as I realized Hindley was in good hands.
“She’s been asking for you, you know.” Her gaze swept over to me and she smiled. “Just let her know you’re here and that you’re not going anywhere.” She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks, turning to face me. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, jumping up and scanning Hindley’s body. “What’s happened to her?”
“What about the X Games?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be competing today.”
My body sagged in relief. That was all she was worried about? “I don’t give a flying fuck about the X Games,” I said. “The only thing I even remotely give a shit about is the woman lying in this bed, who’s had my heart ever since the first night I met her.”
She laughed and nodded. “Good answer. Call if you need me.”
I slid back in my chair and reached through the railing to caress Hindley’s arm. She was my Drunk Girl, my everything, and I wouldn’t rest until I brought her back to me.