Final Truth

Chapter 74: Day By Day

Julia's point of view:

Coming home is like waking up.

Until now, it's as if I've been trapped in a purgatory of pain, an impenetrable haze clouding my senses that refused to allow anything good to come through. But as I watch the buildings pass by outside the car window, that haze has begun to recede, reminding me that a world did exist outside of that prison. Home wasn't a figment of my imagination.

I'm hesitant to look too closely at my surroundings, however. Too often I've immersed myself in something false as a coping mechanism, the only form of escapism I could muster whilst being trapped. There's a voice inside that berates me for this, telling me to let go and be happy that I'm home again. And to some degree, I know the voice has a point, but I think a part of me will always question reality if it seems too good to be true.

You don't go through what I did and not carry doubt in your soul. You don't come away unprepared for everything to be taken from you again.

The sensory input from the world outside the car is quickly becoming overwhelming, the passing sights blurring into something indistinguishable, messy, bright, foreign, so I close my eyes and ground myself in the dark, punctuating my breathing by thoughts.

Breathe in.

You're home now.

Breathe out.

You're okay.

Breathe in.

You'll adjust.

Breathe out.

You can start over.

Breathe in.

Open your eyes.

Breathe out.

The world doesn't seem so terribly suffocating after that.

A few more minutes pass in semi-silence, the only noise being the perpetual sound of the car groaning from the journey. How they'll manage to coax more trips out of this rust bucket remains a mystery to me, but I'm certainly grateful; it brought my friends back to me. It took me away from that place.

Cassia's hospital finally rolls into view, and Adam pulls the car up to the front doors before putting it in park.

There's already a small team of nurses standing outside for us, and as soon as the car stops, they make quick use of themselves. One opens the passenger door for Genevieve, helping her out and escorting her inside to tend to her wounded shoulder. Everyone else opens the doors to the backseat, staring at me for a moment in what I can only describe as shock before setting things into motion again.

A few of them reach for my arms to help me out, but I shy away from their hands and push my way out of the car on my own, the memories of nurses and tests and needles beating at the back of my subconscious causing me to refuse their help.

Thankfully, they don't seem to take offense, reaching past me instead to ease Peter out of the car.

"Second floor, room 28B. Everything set up?" Cassia asks, getting out of the car herself.