Pieces of me

The days bled into one another. Time felt like an abstract concept, something I couldn't quite grasp, as if my mind were wrapped in a haze I couldn't escape. The hospital room became both a cage and a sanctuary. I spent most of my days drifting in and out of sleep, the doctors and nurses coming in at intervals, checking on me, adjusting IVs, monitoring my vitals.

Billie stayed by my side, never once leaving me alone. She was there when I woke up, there when I closed my eyes again, and even in the silent moments between. I couldn't help but be grateful for her presence, though a small part of me hated myself for putting her in this position. I knew I had dragged her into this mess, and I wasn't sure if I could ever forgive myself for it.

I still didn't remember everything, not clearly. The pieces of my life before I ended up here were fragmented, like shards of glass scattered across the floor, just out of reach. Some memories I could recall—bits of conversations, flashes of laughter, moments that felt warm and safe. But others were blank, lost to whatever darkness had taken root in me. I hated that I couldn't piece it all together.

I lay in the bed one afternoon, staring out the window, my mind swirling with a thousand unanswered questions. The world outside seemed so distant, so removed from the person I had been. I didn't know how to go back to it, how to make sense of who I was now.

Billie had gone to get some coffee—she'd insisted I rest while she was gone. But I wasn't tired. I couldn't sleep anyway. I sat up, carefully adjusting the pillows behind me to prop myself up. The sterile smell of the room lingered in the air, a constant reminder of everything I had been through.

The door creaked open, and I turned my head, expecting to see Billie. But instead, it was a nurse, one of the kind ones who had checked on me the day before.

"Hi, Nat. How are we feeling today?" she asked with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, like she had seen too much of this kind of thing.

"Okay, I guess," I said, my voice hoarse from disuse. "Just... thinking."

"Thinking's good," she replied, making her way over to the IV stand. "It means you're starting to come back to yourself. That's a good sign."

"Yeah," I muttered. "I'm starting to feel like... like I don't know who I am anymore."

She gave me a sympathetic look, pausing in her task for a moment. "It's normal to feel that way after everything you've been through, Nat. You don't have to have all the answers right now. Sometimes, it's just about putting one foot in front of the other."

Her words were comforting in an odd way, but they also stung. I didn't want to just move forward. I wanted to fix everything—to understand why I had gotten to this point, why I had let everything fall apart. I didn't want to be a broken version of myself, picking up the pieces and pretending they fit together when they didn't.

The nurse finished adjusting the IV and turned to leave, but before she stepped out, she glanced back at me. "You've got people who care about you, Nat," she said quietly. "Don't forget that. Don't try to do it all alone."

I nodded, but her words stuck with me long after she had gone. People cared about me. People like Billie. She had been here for me, even when I hadn't deserved it. I had pushed her away when I needed her most, and yet she stayed. She was still here.

The door opened again, and this time, it was Billie, carrying a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she stepped inside, her eyes lighting up when she saw me sitting up.

"How's my favorite patient?" she asked, her voice teasing, though I could see the exhaustion beneath her playful tone.

"I'm surviving," I said with a faint smile, grateful for the moment of normalcy. "I think I'm starting to feel like myself again."

Billie raised an eyebrow, setting the coffee down on the table beside the bed. "You sure about that? Because last time I checked, the 'you' I know would be demanding to leave this place and get back to the cafe."

I chuckled softly, but it didn't last long. The thought of the cafe hit me hard, a reminder of everything I had been running from. Would they even want me back after everything? I hadn't exactly been the most reliable owner. The thought of facing my staff, of showing up and pretending like everything was fine—it was overwhelming. It felt like too much.

"Maybe," I said quietly, staring at my hands. "But I don't even know if I can go back there."

Billie's expression softened, and she sat down in the chair beside the bed, reaching for my hand. "Nat, you don't have to make any decisions right now. You've been through a lot. The cafe can wait. You need time to heal. You need time to figure out what you want, what you need."

"I've always been so sure about everything," I said, my voice shaky. "The cafe, my life, everything. But now... now I don't even know who I am anymore."

Billie squeezed my hand gently. "It's okay to not have all the answers, Nat. You don't have to have everything figured out right now. The important thing is that you're here. You're alive. And you're not alone. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

I felt a lump form in my throat, and the tears I had been holding back started to fall. I hadn't allowed myself to cry in so long, and now, with Billie beside me, I couldn't hold it in any longer. It felt like a floodgate had opened, and everything I had kept buried inside of me came rushing to the surface.

Billie didn't say anything. She just pulled me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me like a shield, as if she could protect me from everything that had hurt me.

And for the first time in so long, I let myself lean into it. Let myself feel the comfort of being held. It wasn't fixing me, but it was enough. It was enough for right now.

"I don't know how I can be me again , Billie," I whispered into her shoulder, my voice thick with emotion. "I don't even know if I can do it."

"You don't have to do it alone," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Just take it one step at a time. I'll be with you every step of the way."

I closed my eyes, letting her words wash over me. Maybe I didn't have to have it all figured out. Maybe I didn't have to be perfect. All I had to do was take that first step, no matter how small, and trust that Billie—someone who cared about me—was going to help me find my way back.

And maybe, just maybe, I could start putting the pieces of myself back together.