No more Lila.

I was existing, not living.

I didn’t put on an act anymore, it took too much effort. Perhaps this was the real me, exposed for all to see.

Thursday afternoon, we were so behind with work, that later in that afternoon, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything that day. I found myself making stupid mistakes and knew I needed to take a break, but at the same time there were only two hours left until I headed out.

Jack had dictated I wasn’t to stay past six for the next week or he would escort me out personally. Any attempts to tell him I was fine fell on deaf ears. He was the boss after all.

Nathan hadn’t spoken to me since I had returned, but today he felt the need to address that I existed.

Nathan broke the silence when I was midway through the Hansen file. “Delilah, go eat something.” In my peripheral, I could see that his head had not turned in my direction; he was still staring at the screen.

“No,” I responded, my eyes still fixated on my monitor, my fingers typing away on the Hansen file.

“Go,” he commanded.

“I’m not hungry.” Didn’t he realize he couldn’t tell me what to do anymore? He lost that right.

He slammed his hands down on his desk, startling me. My head snapped up, and I watched him walk out the door at a brisk pace. He returned a moment later and threw something hard onto my desk.

“Eat it.”

“No.”

“Eat the f**king granola bar before I shove it down your throat.”

I picked it up and threw it against the wall. It hit with a crack, and then fell to the floor.

“Oh, I’ve heard that threat before,” I spat at him.

His eyes grew wide as he stared down at me. His disinterested act slipped and I could see, just for a split second, the pain beneath.

I had to admit, it hurt to see that tortured look in his eyes, because if he felt like that, I couldn’t help but wonder why he had separated us. All it brought was a tight stab in my chest and hope.

I had to squash the hope. Nothing good came of it.

Hope wasn’t allowed in my bleak world, along with asshats and their granola bars. They took too much energy.

My first session back with Dr. Morgenson was uneventful. It had been so long since I’d last seen him that it was almost like we were starting from scratch. He already knew about my past, so there was no need to delve into those sordid details.

The present however…well that was a brand new beast.

He made me talk about Nathan.

I didn’t want to talk about Nathan, but Dr. Morgenson wasn’t letting the subject drop entirely. He was a tricky one.

“So, tell me about the last few months,” he said, his gaze expectant.

I went into the story of Nathan coming to work at Holloway and Holloway; a few choked sobs tried to escape at the mere mention of his name. I didn’t want to talk about it, I wasn’t ready, so I turned myself off before I broke down again, and slipped a neutral expression back on. Dr. Morgenson knew it as well because he cleared his throat, uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, staring me straight in the eyes.

I sat unfeeling, uncaring, pretending not to give a shit about my life as he probed into my emotional state.

“Go on…” he encouraged.

“And then I slipped. I became comfortable in what I knew was a volatile relationship.” What else was there to say?

“I want to help you get better, Lila. I need you to know and accept that there are people who care about you. People you can trust,” Dr. Morgenson stressed.

I knew that was the case. I knew I could trust him, but what was the point?

The session ended and I left; the first of many I would attend over what felt like a millennia.

A crappy morning to add to my crappy week awaited me when I awoke. It was raining.

Couldn’t I catch a break? Wasn’t my life miserable enough from the beginning? Why then did he have to come into my life and make me believe there was something worth living for, only to take it all away?

Nothing. I was nothing. Just as they’d always said I was. I would never amount to anything. Yup, there I was, shell of a f**king human being because I fell in love.

Love stinks. Worse than asshats…

The windshield wipers moved back and forth at a furious pace as I waited in the left hand turning lane for an opening. The light was still green, stale red for the cross street.

Green means go, but it appeared not everyone knew that red meant stop.

I heard the squealing of the tires against the wet pavement. I saw in my peripheral as a work van flew over the white line before the crunching of metal filled my ears.

That was then it all disappeared. The pain…the dull ache in my heart, and Nathan, too.

All I knew was black and stillness…

Until I heard the sirens. Breathless voices and clamoring hands touched me.

It was later when a voice broke out above all other sounds, screaming, “Oh, God. Lila! Love, no! No! Get your f**king hands off me. That’s my girlfriend! Lila!” That was when I knew I was probably about to die.

Only angels sounded like that—only my Nathan…