Read Online Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) by J.P. Grider - Free Book Online
Authors: J.P. Grider
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pocket and takes my elbow. "And so will you," he whispers.
Did you ever really not want to cry in front of someone so badly that you try really hard to hold back your tears? Your throat hurts, your face freezes, your eyes go wide because if you close them you'll just release them faster. That's me right now. And I'm sure I'm looking all kinds of foolish. But I can't help it. I'm not strong enough to barricade the tears, so I turn away from Ben and slowly hobble out of the room.
I don't have to turn around to know that Ben isn't following me. He's too polite for that. I've figured that much out about him already.
The hallway is a blurry mess in front of me, so I move to the side and lean against the wall, attempting to wipe away the tears that are causing it.
"Rose?"
I look up to see Nina in front of me.
"I was just coming to get you. What happened?"
The tears don't stop. Not at all. They rush out of my eyes like Niagara Falls.
Nina wraps her arms around me, but I push her away and slink to the ground. If I could run, I would, but I can't, so I sit.
"I'm gonna go get Dr. Rappaport."
A couple minutes later, Nina is back with Dr. Rappaport and they're both struggling to lift me off the ground. Not because I'm too heavy; I've probably dropped down to ninety pounds by now. No, they're struggling because I am fighting them with every deconditioned muscle in my mutilated body. Soon, there are two male aides, and I'm being hoisted up and onto a stretcher. But I fight that too, and before they can strap me down, I roll off and fall flat on my face, my hands and arms too weak to keep my nose from hitting the ground. Now I'm in physical pain on top of everything else.
That's when I do it.
That's when I let out all the emotions I'd been keeping in for the last two and a half months.
That's when I am finally able to speak.
And it's not just normal speaking.
I let out sounds so deep and so loud, that I can’t believe they come out of my mouth.
From somewhere deep in my gut, I scream, "God, why? Why did you do this to me? Why? Oh, God, nooooooooooo, nooooooooo, not me! Oh my God, no, no, no, no."
The words go on forever, and they echo throughout the hallway.
By the time I am done screaming, only Dr. Rappaport is left. And he is sitting by my side, rubbing my back. Someone brings a pillow and places it under my head. I don't know how long I was screaming, but at the end of my meltdown, I am exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
I am sitting in Dr. Rappaport's office sometime after, and instead of not speaking, like is usually the case, I’ve been yelling. In my old life, I never yelled. Never found the need for it. Now. Now, I'm this person I don't even recognize. Half a person. Who screams at the top of her lungs. Now. Is this who I'm going to be for the rest of my life?
"This is not who you are going to be for the rest of your life, Rose," Dr. Rappaport says in response to my question, which evidently I said out loud . "You're going through the second stage of grief. It took you a while to get there, but you're there now. And it's good."
"Second stage?" I ask, screaming the words at him, digging my fingernails into my folded arms.
"Anger. The first one is denial. The second, anger. You're making progress."
I shake my head. "I don't want to make progress!" I touch my neck. My throat is awfully dry. I'm on my third glass of water since I've been sitting in here. "I want this to never have happened," I yell, pleading for time to rewind.
"But it did happen, Rose, and now you have to make a decision."
A decision ? I just glare at the doctor.
"You have to make the decision to either take control of this situation, or let it control you."
I stand up, and let me tell you, it isn't easy, since I still don't know how to use this metal leg attached to me, and the new bruises I incurred from my fall are raw and aching. "God decided already," I scream. "He decided I should walk around life on one leg and never dance
Did you ever really not want to cry in front of someone so badly that you try really hard to hold back your tears? Your throat hurts, your face freezes, your eyes go wide because if you close them you'll just release them faster. That's me right now. And I'm sure I'm looking all kinds of foolish. But I can't help it. I'm not strong enough to barricade the tears, so I turn away from Ben and slowly hobble out of the room.
I don't have to turn around to know that Ben isn't following me. He's too polite for that. I've figured that much out about him already.
The hallway is a blurry mess in front of me, so I move to the side and lean against the wall, attempting to wipe away the tears that are causing it.
"Rose?"
I look up to see Nina in front of me.
"I was just coming to get you. What happened?"
The tears don't stop. Not at all. They rush out of my eyes like Niagara Falls.
Nina wraps her arms around me, but I push her away and slink to the ground. If I could run, I would, but I can't, so I sit.
"I'm gonna go get Dr. Rappaport."
A couple minutes later, Nina is back with Dr. Rappaport and they're both struggling to lift me off the ground. Not because I'm too heavy; I've probably dropped down to ninety pounds by now. No, they're struggling because I am fighting them with every deconditioned muscle in my mutilated body. Soon, there are two male aides, and I'm being hoisted up and onto a stretcher. But I fight that too, and before they can strap me down, I roll off and fall flat on my face, my hands and arms too weak to keep my nose from hitting the ground. Now I'm in physical pain on top of everything else.
That's when I do it.
That's when I let out all the emotions I'd been keeping in for the last two and a half months.
That's when I am finally able to speak.
And it's not just normal speaking.
I let out sounds so deep and so loud, that I can’t believe they come out of my mouth.
From somewhere deep in my gut, I scream, "God, why? Why did you do this to me? Why? Oh, God, nooooooooooo, nooooooooo, not me! Oh my God, no, no, no, no."
The words go on forever, and they echo throughout the hallway.
By the time I am done screaming, only Dr. Rappaport is left. And he is sitting by my side, rubbing my back. Someone brings a pillow and places it under my head. I don't know how long I was screaming, but at the end of my meltdown, I am exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.
I am sitting in Dr. Rappaport's office sometime after, and instead of not speaking, like is usually the case, I’ve been yelling. In my old life, I never yelled. Never found the need for it. Now. Now, I'm this person I don't even recognize. Half a person. Who screams at the top of her lungs. Now. Is this who I'm going to be for the rest of my life?
"This is not who you are going to be for the rest of your life, Rose," Dr. Rappaport says in response to my question, which evidently I said out loud . "You're going through the second stage of grief. It took you a while to get there, but you're there now. And it's good."
"Second stage?" I ask, screaming the words at him, digging my fingernails into my folded arms.
"Anger. The first one is denial. The second, anger. You're making progress."
I shake my head. "I don't want to make progress!" I touch my neck. My throat is awfully dry. I'm on my third glass of water since I've been sitting in here. "I want this to never have happened," I yell, pleading for time to rewind.
"But it did happen, Rose, and now you have to make a decision."
A decision ? I just glare at the doctor.
"You have to make the decision to either take control of this situation, or let it control you."
I stand up, and let me tell you, it isn't easy, since I still don't know how to use this metal leg attached to me, and the new bruises I incurred from my fall are raw and aching. "God decided already," I scream. "He decided I should walk around life on one leg and never dance
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