The Right Moves (The Game #3)(32)
Author: Emma Hart

“He just promised he would be there. That’s it. I cried harder than I have in so long, and he just promised he’d be there until it didn’t hurt anymore, but that’s impossible. He can’t be there until it stops because it’ll never stop hurting.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do. I know he won’t be there all the time, but a part of me wants to believe it.” I look at her. “Is that silly? That after the last few weeks of not wanting to believe him, I suddenly do. It sounds silly to me.”

“You said last time you trust him to an extent. Have you thought that maybe your switch in feelings is you starting to trust in yourself and your ability to make decisions? After all, if you trust him, there’s no reason not to believe what he says, and if you believe it, there’s no reason not to want to.”

I chew on my bottom lip for a second, peeling a bit of skin off with my teeth. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Tell me how you felt when Blake saw your scars. That moment you realized it wasn’t your secret anymore.”

Fear.

Nothing but pure fear.

It was the fear of explaining. Of him knowing everything, really everything, and learning that my depression runs deeper than the scars themselves. It was the fear of him learning everything Pearce did to me, how he abused and defiled me, and walking away. I was scared he’d walk right out of the studio and I’d lose the only person I trust other than Maddie. And then there was – and still is – the fear for me.

That’s the strongest fear I have where Blake Smith is concerned. The fear that he might just break my heart if he walked away.

“That’s why he can’t know,” I explain. “It’s selfish and immature, but every time I see him I feel like I’m losing a little part of myself into him. It’s like he has a hold on my heart and each time we dance, laugh, play, he tugs it a little closer to the palm of his heart. Nothing scares me more than the thought he might just take it with him.”

“He didn’t run at the sight of your scars. They’re the physical embodiment of your depression, the way your feelings manifested themselves, and he didn’t go. What makes you think he’d leave you behind if he knew about what you’ve suffered?”

My eyes go to the window, and loud laughter creeps in through the open window. They’re all down in the yard waiting for Dr. Hausen to finish here with me, and for a moment, I want to go and join them. I want to lock myself away from the world and settle into the routine that structured my life for a year. Here where it’s safe and there’s no reason for me to feel anything for anyone.

“Abbi?”

“Pearce tried his damned hardest to go the whole way. If it wasn’t for Jake walking in as he was about to rip off my pants, he would have. But that doesn’t mean I feel any less dirty or any less ashamed. I still feel dirty from it and what happened afterward. I feel damaged by it, almost. If Blake knew what he’d almost done…” I trail off and shake my head.

“If Blake knew…”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Blake won’t find out. No one will.”

Dr. Hausen puts her mug of coffee on the table next to her and leans forward, sliding her glasses from her face. “You can’t always keep things a secret, no matter how buried you think they are.”

“But I can try. I can always try.”

~

The rain is comforting. It beats steadily against my window, breaking the silence that’s resting heavily in my room. The droplets run down the glass, racing each other to the bottom. The calming effect it has on me is more important than ever today.

The last few days have been a never-ending chain of emotion. The flashbacks have been so strong I’ve found myself checking the mirror to see if there’s a bruise somewhere on my body or if it’s in my head. I can feel myself falling into the darkness again, spiraling downward without any control.

But I know we all have a darkness inside us.

For some people it’s obvious, a heavy cloud hanging over them wherever they go. For others, like me, it’s a silent whisper, like a gentle spring breeze. It’s always there, swirling around me and sinking into my skin as I try desperately to fight the pull. There are many ways to describe depression, and I’ve heard them all. I’ve thought them all at some point.

A demon. A black hole. An empty abyss. A clawing hold.

They’re all right yet they’re all so wrong. Everyone has their own experiences of it, their own way of fighting, their own way of coping. I’ve finally worked out what depression is to me, and I know in my heart that’s the only reason I haven’t desperately searched the house for something with a sharp edge.

For me, depression is the ever-present sinking feeling weighing my heart down. It’s the constant downturn of my lips and the dullness of my eyes. It’s the heavy sigh I breathe when I realize there’s yet another day to get through. And it’s the tiny breath of air in my ear that reminds me it’s so easy to end it all.

But for every inch of darkness inside, there’s a centimeter of light.

It’s the light that keeps me going. It’s the promise of tomorrow in the setting sun and the certainty of next week on the calendar. It’s the lifelong dream of the little girl inside that refuses to give up. It’s the “what if” that counters every dark thought.

The light is the single star surrounded by a sea of darkness. It’s the spot you’re drawn to, each and every time. The spot you can’t let go.

There are so many spots of light in my life – my parents, ballet, Maddie… Blake. The problem is I only have two hands, meaning every time I hold onto one of them, another floats away until I grab it back again. A vicious circle that will just keep turning.

But I know this. Which means I can fight it. I can push against the pull, smile through the tears and shine a light in the dark. And, one day, I can fight it and I can win. One day I’ll control the depression, not the other way around, and I hold onto that thought each and every day.

I glance to the clock and realize I have to leave to meet Blake. I’d love nothing more than to stay here in bed, in the silence of my house, and avoid him. Since I have to see him for dance, avoidance isn’t an option, so I have to pull on some big girl panties and face him.

The sky has cleared when I get downstairs so I leave my coat behind. I splash through the puddles like a child as I head towards Starbucks. My feet are twitching with the need to dance – but not alone. Despite what’s happening in my head, my heart and my body are crying out for the closeness and security dancing with Blake brings me.