Helping heal

 "You're safe. I'm not going anywhere."

Her voice, though soft, carried an intensity that made something in my chest tighten. It wasn't anger, wasn't frustration. It was... worry. Fear. And something else—something I couldn't place, but it was warm, like a soft blanket wrapped around me, keeping me from falling apart.

"I... I don't remember," I whispered, the words slurring slightly.

"Don't worry about that right now, okay?" Billie said, her voice breaking. "Just focus on getting better. That's all we need to do."

I wanted to ask more—so many questions. What happened to me? How did I end up here? But it was as if the answers were locked behind a door I couldn't find the key to.

I took a shallow breath, and the weight of my own body felt like a burden. I wanted to sit up, wanted to get out of this bed, but the effort felt too much.

"You're okay, Nat," Billie said again, squeezing my hand. "You're going to heal, I swear."

I blinked slowly, feeling her words sink in like a slow, steady tide.

I wasn't alone. She was here. She hadn't left me. That thought alone was enough to make my heart beat a little faster, despite the pain.

I took another shallow breath, the air coming easier now. "I... I messed up, didn't I?" The words came out before I could stop them, and my voice cracked as I said them. It felt like I was sinking into something dark, something I couldn't claw my way out of.

Billie's hand tightened around mine. "Nat, no. You didn't mess up. You're not alone in this. Don't ever think you're alone."

Her words hit me like a wave, and I couldn't stop the tear that slipped down my cheek, even though I hadn't realized I'd started crying. I felt raw—like I was seeing everything for the first time. The mess, the hurt, the pain I'd been running from for so long.

But Billie was here. And for some strange reason, that made it feel like maybe, just maybe, I could survive this.

"Billie," I whispered, the name trembling on my lips. "I'm sorry."

"Shh," she murmured, brushing the hair away from my face. "You don't have to apologize. I'm here. We're going to get through this."

I closed my eyes, fighting the tears, fighting the choking sensation in my chest. I didn't want to break down like this. I didn't want to admit how far I'd fallen. But the weight of it all was too much. And with Billie here, something inside me cracked open, just a little, enough for the flood to start pouring out.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she whispered after a long pause, her voice soft but laced with something more—something like concern, like a question she had been holding in for too long. "Why didn't you let me in?"

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to explain everything—the pressure, the exhaustion, the endless nights when I felt like I was drowning in it all. But I couldn't. The words were stuck in my throat, and even if I could get them out, I wasn't sure I could make sense of them.

"I didn't want to bother you," I murmured. "I didn't want to be a burden."

Billie exhaled, a shaky breath, like she was holding back everything she wanted to say. "Nat," she said softly, "You were never a burden. You are everything to me. You always have been."

I swallowed hard, trying to process her words, trying to hold onto them like they were my lifeline.

"I didn't know how to fix it," I admitted quietly, my eyes squeezing shut. "I didn't know how to fix me."

There was a long silence before Billie spoke again, her voice steady, though it held so much emotion that it made my chest ache.

"You don't have to fix yourself, Nat," she said. "You just have to let us help. Let me help."

For the first time in a long while, I let myself believe her. Let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to carry this weight alone anymore.

I let out a shaky breath and squeezed her hand tighter, as if telling her that, yes, I was ready to accept that help. I was ready to fight—for myself, for her, for us.

"Okay," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Okay."

And in that moment, with Billie's hand still holding mine, I let myself hope. Hope that maybe there was a way out of this darkness, that maybe the road to healing was one we could walk together.