Trigger warning: mental health breakdown

Chloe's POV

It only takes thirty minutes to get where I want to go, but the ride feels like forever as I rip a piece of my heart out and left it behind for Alex to discover. Maybe what I did was selfish. Maybe what I did was brave. I don't know all the answers and the only thing I want to do is lay down and not move for a little while.

      I take my bags out of the car and try my best to carry them all with me inside the motel lobby, the dreary carpets and drapes familiar to me from all those years ago. "Good afternoon, what can I help you with?" The clerk says looking up from her phone with a practiced smile on her face.

     "Is room 239 available?" I ask her and she frowns slightly at the unusual question but goes to check the computer anyways before turning back to me.

     "Yes, it seems like it's been free for the past few days. Would you like to buy this room out?" She asks and I nod my head, getting out a few bills from the stack of money I accumulated over the years from being what I am. "And how long would you like to stay?" She asks before looking up at me.

     "Here's enough for a month." I tell her slipping her the cash in hand and she raises her eyebrows but doesn't ask any other question except the ones she has to.

     "Name?"

      "Chloe." I tell her and stop there. She glances up at me and seeing the stern expression, and probably the puffy still wet eyes, decides not to push it, at least for the moment. After a few more questions, I'm making my way from the lobby to Room 239 where my life changed for the first time.

      It's a struggle to get all my bags across the parking lot but I don't trust the world enough to make more than one trip. I set the heavy cargo down and slide the plastic keycard into the slot, letting it click before I push the door open. I transfer the bags to just inside the door before I close it behind me and everything finally comes crashing down.

    This is the room Thomas brought me when he saved me that night. I woke up the next morning laying on that bad screaming bloody murder from my first nightmare. Thomas saved my life that day and here I am, full circle, except there's no one to save me this time. Not from myself.

     I turn away from the beds and make my way to the bathroom, flipping on my light to take in my image in the mirror, wave after wave of disgust crashing through me as I do.

You can't escape what you are by playing house.

      I shut my eyes as I try to fight off the rise of voices coming to bombard my head, going back into the room to try and put my stuff away in the drawers only if to attempt to busy my mind. I grab the first bag from beside the door and open it, taking it to the dresser as I begin to clean it out.

You were made for others to use you.

     I feel tears prick my eyes at the reminder, my chest aching as memory upon memory shakes whatever confidence and false sense of security I had gained these past seven month, living a pipe dream. A dream. One that I never knew I had wanted, but came true so perfectly, making me forget the reality of what I am and what that means.

No one can love something like you.

     No. No. Alex loves me. No he loves me. He loves me and I took his heart and stomped on it and I no longer know if it was to protect him from the world or to protect myself from what so many others have done. How can he still love me when I ran away like this?

The only thing you are is a burden.

     The clothes fall from my hands as I shove them over my ears, trying without any results to get the sound of those voices from out of my head so I can think and allow my self to feel this out like I need to.

He's too soft to reject a whore.

     There's so many sounds and memories that are flowing throughout my mind that I no longer know which is real or fake anymore. I can't remember if Alex looked at me with disgust or love. I can't remember if he loves me or resents me because he knows I will never be anything other than a emotional burden. That I'll never be anymore than a whore.

     All I can remember is the feel of that man's skin as he took something so fucking precious from me. It's not just about consent or my PTSD or the burning self hatred at the idea that maybe, just maybe all the voices were right. He took my peace of mind. Every single person after him, I'm terrified they're just another version of him lurking in the shadows to strike even if I know they won't.

     But how do you ever really know?

      I'm so fucking terrified of loosing the strength and the love and the family and the peace of mind that was so beautifully blessed to me by the Goddesses. And I went and fucked it all up because I every single time I hear those words, I'm thrown back to that night and I'm stuck.

You ask for it.

You deserve it.

You're pitiful.

Disgusting.

Tramp.

Whore.

Slut.

Abomination.

Taboo.

Forbidden.

      "Stop!" I scream out, sobs racking my body, my ears bleeding from me scratching at them, but no matter how much I beg and scream and cry for the onslaught of words to stop so I can just breathe and think, they only get louder.

Your mom should have did what so many of her kind have done and just swallowed.

      My knees are curled up into me and my head is resting on on the wall behind me as I begin to rock myself from side to side, the movement doing something to calm down my mind. My sobs quiet down until there's only the aftermath of hiccups.

    My lips are moving as I whisper to the air, no sound coming out as one of my hands come up to grip my locket, a fresh sob coming out when my fingers hold nothing but air and the memories of what I did slam into my once more.

     My lips move in time with the tears that fall down my cheeks and my head rocks back and forth to the side as I fall into an exhausted sleep. The words on repeat as they slip into my dream.

      I'm so sorry daddy.

      I love you.

      I'm sorry.

✨✨✨

     "Good job Matty! You're getting to big." Alex is pushing our daughter in the swing and she giggles as she jumps up and down when it's over, her face is unclear but her long brown hair is so obviously from her dad just like her beautiful slightly tan skin. I carried her around for nine months and the girl has the audacity to look just like my husband.

     "Again!" She shouts in a sweet voice and I melt all over again, just like the first time I had seen her chocolate eyes staring up at me. I look down in my arms and smile when I see baby Ashley in them, quiet as ever as he watches his twin sister.

     I set him down in the sand box and he immediately starts playing quietly by himself, the boy the yin to his sisters yang. As much as Madison is rowdy and outgoing, Ashley is quiet and reserved. Never shy, just chooses when he wants to speak, his blue green eyes and dirty blonde hair the spitting image of me.

    I just watch as my family plays with each other laughing and smiling and they enjoy each other's company and bask in the love that's obviously there between the three of them. I sigh happily as I sit in the sandbox beside Ashley, kissing him on his head as our family enjoys themselves just like I've always dreamed.

✨✨✨

      When I open my eyes, it's dark outside and the reality of what just happened makes my throat squeeze. It was just a dream. A perfect fucking dream that can never happen because I fucked up the only good thing I had going for me.

     I sigh, lifting my sore body off the floor where I fell asleep and grab my remaining bags to place on the bed. With barely any motivation, the little I have only for the twins, I dig through the luggage and find everything I need for a shower. I place the bags on the floor before stripping out of my clothes from the most tiring day I've had in my life.

     I drag my swollen lifeless body to the bathroom and shut the door behind me before I turn on the water to the shower. Once the water is steaming up the bathroom, I step inside and let the waterfall rain on my tight dry skin, making sure to wash the tears and strain from my face as I do. I don't linger under the warm spray for too long before the water is off and I'm stepping out of the shower to grab a towel from the rack.

      Avoiding my frame in the mirror, I dry off my body, being extra careful of the twins who have been moving around restlessly since I left, making my already sore body hurt worse. I grab the clothes I had set out earlier and slip them on my body carefully before I flip off the light and make my way to the bed that changed me all those years ago.

The room is dark as I curl into myself under the sheet and I close my eyes as tears begin to stream down my face once more, escaping to the land of dreams where I can see my beautiful happy family once more.

~~~~~~~~~
Fuck fuck fuck man. I cried so many times while writing this. I'm sorry to those of you who cried. I'm glad I could bring attention to mental health and what it can do to you as a person.

Thoughts?

Comments?

QOTD: yellow or burgundy?