C5 Chapter 5

Drifting in and out of consciousness, I was trapped in a heavy fog. Muffled voices drifted over me—my mother, my friend Samantha, and a few unfamiliar tones—but I couldn't pinpoint where they were coming from. I was aware, yet paralyzed; my eyelids felt glued shut, and no matter how hard I strained, my voice wouldn't work. The raw panic and tearful whispers from Mom and Samantha broke through the haze, making me desperate to reassure them, though a sinking feeling told me things were far from fine. Instead of reality, I was pulled under by a torrent of fractured memories and nightmares. Nick ’s enraged face filled my mind, his harsh accusations cutting deep, only to morph into a suffocating embrace as he whispered declarations of love. The lines between what actually happened and the horror of my own mind completely blurred.

Eventually, the darkness began to lift. The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant hit me first, accompanied by a rhythmic, electronic beep right beside my head. Forcing my eyes open against a blinding, sterile glare, I blinked heavily to clear the static from my vision. As the room came into focus, I caught Samantha staring at me in stunned silence.

"Willow? Oh my god, Willow, you're awake!" she shouted, spinning toward the hallway. "Jen, get in here! She’s awake!"

Within seconds, the door burst open. My mother rushed to the bedside, instantly dissolving into tears as she wrapped her arms around me. "Oh, my sweet girl, thank god."

"Mom..." I croaked. The word was barely a scratchy whisper; my throat felt like sandpaper. I gestured weakly toward the plastic pitcher on the nightstand, and Samantha moved instantly to pour a cup of water.

"Drink it slow," Samantha cautioned, guiding the straw to my lips. "Don't rush. You've been completely unconscious for three whole days, Willow. Your body needs to rest."

Shock rippled through me. "What... what happened?"

Mom and Samantha exchanged a tense, heavy look, their expressions instantly falling.

"You really don't remember any of it?" Samantha asked softly.

I forced myself to think back, tracing the edge of the fog until the memory hit me like a physical blow. "Nick ," I breathed.

They didn't answer with words, only devastating, sympathetic looks.

"I am so, so incredibly sorry you had to go through this, sweetheart," Mom wept, gently stroking my hair. "But right now, you can't worry about any of that. You are safe here. Nobody can ever lay a hand on you again." I could only nod numbly, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes as a mountain of questions crushed me. How could things have gotten so dark? How could he do that to me?

A few minutes later, a young doctor—probably still in his late twenties—stepped into the room with a warm, reassuring smile. "It is wonderful to see you sitting up, Willow," he said kindly. But as he reached out toward me, my body reacted before my mind could think; I flinched away violently, cowering into the pillows.

"Willow, look at me, it's okay," Mom soothed, her voice trembling. "He's just your doctor, baby. He isn't going to hurt you. You're completely safe now, remember?"

Swallowing hard, I gave a shaky nod and forced myself to face him again.

"I'm just going to check your reactions and see how you're managing the pain, alright?" the doctor explained gently. After a quick examination, he offered an encouraging update, noting that my vitals were excellent and I could likely be discharged the following afternoon.

He did quietly suggest that I speak to a therapist to process the unseen trauma Nick had inflicted, but the thought of a shrink made my stomach turn. The last thing I wanted was to drag all those dark emotions into the light; I just wanted to wipe the slate clean and forget it ever happened.

By the next afternoon, I was officially discharged. Pulling into the driveway brought a wave of intense anxiety—after all, that house was the backdrop of the nightmare. Worse still, a nagging question kept echoing in my mind: where was Nick ? Was he behind bars? Who had even called the police?

Back inside, I washed off the hospital grime in a long shower and crawled into the bed in our guest room. Within an hour, however, I bolted upright, my chest heaving as a terrifying replay of that night shattered my sleep. The nightmares were relentless, making rest impossible.

Mom and Samantha instantly burst through the door, rushing to opposite sides of the bed to hold me as my breathing spiraled into a hyperventilation panic. "Shh, breathe, honey, I've got you," Mom murmured, pulling my shaking frame against her chest until the adrenaline finally subsided.

Later, I dragged myself out to the kitchen table, watching silently as Mom prepared dinner. The silence felt suffocating, so I finally forced the words out. "Where... where is Nick right now?"

The kitchen went dead quiet. Mom and Samantha exchanged another loaded glance before Mom turned to face me fully.

"Sweetheart, when Nick attacked you, he was completely altered by drugs and alcohol. Afterwards, his mother came to visit you here, and she confessed to me that Nick struggled with bipolar disorder. Did he ever mention that to you?"

I shook my head, a hollow feeling settling in my chest. How could I have been with someone for that long and been completely blind to something so massive? And why did she use the past tense—struggled? A cold dread began to pool in my stomach, making me want to pull back before the truth came out.

"Honestly, I don't think he told anyone," Mom continued heavily. "His mother said he had a prescription to manage it, but he had entirely abandoned his medication."

I nodded slowly, pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together in the worst way possible.

"Once the chemicals cleared out of his system and he realized the horror of what he’d done, he called his family in an absolute panic. He essentially confessed to everything over the phone before hanging up. The police contacted me the following morning..." Mom's voice cracked, tears spilling over her cheeks. "Oh, baby... Nick took his own life."

"What? No! That’s not true!" I shrieked, my legs giving out beneath me as I collapsed onto the kitchen floor. "No, no, no!"

The grief ripped through me. I was terrified of what he had done to me, yes, but the monster from that night wasn't the Nick I knew. He was drowning and needed help. How had I missed the warning signs? How had everyone missed them? Samantha dropped down to the floor beside me, gripping my hand tightly as the world collapsed around us.

Once my sobbing subsided into a dull ache, Mom quietly walked over to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a plain white envelope. "The police discovered this in his apartment," she whispered, placing it in my trembling hands. "They had to read it for the investigation, but no one else has seen it. I know this is devastating, Willow, but please remember how much we love you. We are walking through this with you every step of the way."

I leaned up to hug her tightly. "I know, Mom. Thank you. I think... I think I need to read this outside on the porch."

Mom gave a supportive nod, and Samantha offered my hand one final, reassuring squeeze as I walked past. Stepping out onto the porch, I curled up on the swinging bench, took a few ragged breaths to steady my racing heart, and broke the seal on the letter.

To my dearest Willow,

When the fog cleared this morning and the reality of what I did crashed down on me, I realized I couldn't live with it. I know that nothing I write, and no action I take, can ever erase the harm I caused you—the person who meant everything to me. I am still trapped in horror over my own actions.

There are zero excuses for what happened. But after you moved away for school, a crushing depression took over. Months ago, I started running with a dangerous crowd to escape it. The partying escalated into a heavy cocaine addiction, and it completely broke my mind. I've made terrible choices recently that I deeply regret, but what I did to you is unforgivable.

The substances transformed me into a monster, causing me to destroy the absolute best part of my life. The thought of what I put you through makes me physically sick. I am so profoundly sorry, my love. Please know that my love for you was real, and it will follow me into the dark. No one should ever have to endure the pain I inflicted on you. I beg you, don't let my madness ruin the beautiful, pure spirit you possess. You are brilliant, resilient, and incredibly strong. Keep chasing every single dream you have.

God, I despise myself for hurting you, my beautiful Willow. I am sorry from the very depths of my soul. I recognize that leaving this way is the coward's way out, but I cannot exist in a world knowing I am capable of becoming a monster that could damage you. I hope time allows you to see that the real me never intended this. And knowing how your mind works, you must promise me you won't carry an ounce of guilt. You couldn't have stopped this or changed the outcome. This tragedy belongs entirely to my own choices.

Please, promise me you will live a beautiful, full life. You deserve absolute happiness, Willow. I don't know what awaits me next, but never doubt that you held my entire heart.

With all the love I possess,

Nick

I read through his final words three more times, the text blurring through a fresh wave of violent, exhausting sobs, until exhaustion finally took over and I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep on the porch swing.