I Need You to Love Me // BarlowGirl 

Luke

Comprehending any part of what is happening seems absolutely impossible.

An ambulance arrives, and Nila and I are whisked into it, but all I have left to do is sit helplessly while they treat her arm. In the emergency room, they finish bandaging it before taking her away, to talk to a mental health specialist, informing me that I can't be present for it.

It's a moment similar to the one I had with Courtney while she was pregnant with Phoenix.

"Luke, you can't come on this one."

"Luke, you're going to have to wait here."

Luke, you are a failure as a husband and a father.

It was agonizing enough then, when my wife was addicted to pills. Now, my daughter... my daughter tried to kill herself.

My mind doesn't want to admit it or comprehend it, but it's true. I don't even know the full story, but I know that much is true.

I'm still standing in the waiting room, staring at the door she disappeared through, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I dully look that way to find Joel standing at my side.

The moment our eyes meet, I see his face breaking and feel mine doing the same, and then we're hugging and sobbing into each other, helpless and confused and completely broken. More arms wrap around both of us. I don't even have to look up to know it's Dad. He's crying too.

I can feel the eyes of everyone in the waiting room on us, their shock radiating off of them at the sight of three grown men openly weeping, their confusion and curiosity as to what's making us do so. But I don't care.

All I care about is that my daughter tried to end her own life, and I wasn't there to stop it.

I don't know how long it takes for us to gain control over our tears, but when I have, my knees suddenly feel like they can no longer support my weight, and before I know what's happening, I'm leaning on Dad and Joel to stay upright, and they're quickly transferring me to a nearby chair and claiming the ones on either side of it.

"I talked to Courtney," Joel says softly. "And Mum is staying on the phone with her. Moriah's on her way out to the farm, and so are Mary and Matt. She wanted to fly out, but I told her we would bring Nila back home, and she should stay there with the boys."

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak.

"John and Chico are already rescheduling everything," he adds, but his tone says clearly that it doesn't really matter. "They're pushing it all back at least two months."

Again, I nod.

When I finally find the words to speak, my voice comes out a croak. "What... what happened?"

Joel bites his lips. "I... I just all of a sudden felt like... like I was being pulled outside. I didn't feel like I had a choice when I ran out there. And then I saw Nila, and she was standing on the tracks, staring the train dead in the face, crying. I yelled for her, but she didn't move. So I ran and pulled her off the tracks, and she was bleeding, and then... and then..." He trails off helplessly.

That's where he called me, anyway. I know what happened then. So why does it feel like I have no idea what's going when it comes to anything at all?

My head drops to my hands. I would cry, but I don't think I have any tears left. Dad's hand finds my shoulder and squeezes, then just stays there, a reminder that he's beside me.

Someone passes me, and I glance up to see Vince, moving on trembling legs, his eyes fixed on his hands, which are shaking as well. They're stained with blood, just like my shirt and Joel's. Nila's blood.

Vince drops the chair beside Joel's. Both of their heads follow mine, dropping helplessly into their hands.

We sit here in silence, the sounds of the room around us fading, replaced by a throbbing in my head which repeats my daughter's name with every heartbeat.

With her name comes the constant reminder of what just happened... how I failed.

pov-change sponsored by men's plaids (aka my new favorite piece of clothing)

Nila

The world has never been as terrifying as it is when they tell my father he can't come with me. I've never seen him look as helpless as he does when they do. I've never seen him look as broken as he has since he ran outside.

And it's all my fault.

I find myself sitting in the office of a counselor, staring at the carpet, my head and arm both throbbing, my emotions dead thanks to what I did today.

"Nila Smallbone, correct?"

I nod.

"Can you tell me what happened today, Nila?"

It's not that she's not nice, but she's not nice either. She's completely deadpan, unaffected, like I'm being interviewed by a robot.

"I don't know," I whisper. "I... I don't know."

"I know you're probably in a lot of emotional shock right now, but I'm going to need you to focus," she tells me. "We know your uncle pulled you off the train tracks a moment before you were run over by a train. We know that you were already bleeding profusely from countless deep, self-inflicted lacerations on your arm. We know that this is not the first time you've cut yourself, and that you've been doing it for a few weeks now. What I need you to tell me is what drove you to that place."

All I can do is repeat my prior statement. "I don't know."

The woman sighs. "Nila, I need you to work with me. Did someone drive you to doing what you did today, and what you were doing before? Was it something someone said or did?"

I shrug. "People online have been talking. People from my school have been telling me things. A boy at school kissed me against my express wishes. My biological parents... they..."

"They were physically, sexually, verbally, and emotionally abusive," the therapist finishes for me as she consults her clipboard. "Correct?"

I nod, fighting tears.

"But you haven't been in their care since you were three, correct?"

Again, I nod.

"You have no prior record of suicidal behavior or self harm until the past month or so," she counters. "What triggered this so suddenly?"

"I didn't remember them," I whisper. "Then I started having nightmares about all the things they did to me. Mom and Dad didn't even know about it, because my old foster homes were told to lie. Everything just... it just all started falling so suddenly."

"Have your adoptive parents done anything to make this worse?" she asks, staring at me over the rim of her glasses.

I actually look up in shock and repulsion to the idea. "No! No, they've been... they've been nothing but perfect."

"So why would you want to die?"

A tear fights its way out and slides down my cheek. "I'm just tired of being... of being in so much pain. Of causing everyone who loves me so much pain."

"So your solution is to make them mourn you?"

My head drops to my hands. "I don't know."

The lady sighs heavily as she sets her clipboard down. "Well, Nila, what you did today was not only wrong and selfish... it was also illegal. That means that we can and will force you to get the help you need. Your adoptive parents will have some say in where and how, but you will be attending intensive, in-patient therapy to deal with this."

This is literally my worst nightmare coming true.

I say nothing, mute to the panic that's gripped me.

"A nurse is going to take you to a psych patient holding area until I've spoken to your adopted father and we've made final arrangements," the woman says. "When she comes in, you are dismissed to go with her."

She hits a call button on her desk, and a moment later, a nurse appears and gestures for me to follow her. I do, head down, arms wrapped around my body.

She leads me down a hall and around a corner, then turns right to unlock a door with Psychiatric Holding on the door.

God, I hate myself.

The room is simple and beige. Every corner is rounded and padded. A nurse is standing in one corner, glaring at and watching everyone like a hawk. The nurse who brought me points to an empty seat, I take it, and she leaves. We're engulfed in silence.

I sneak a glance up at the rest of the room.

There's a man, maybe in his late twenties, with a military haircut and build. He looks haunted. A woman, thirties or forties, with thinning hair and tired eyes. A boy, maybe a year or two older than me, staring straight ahead with tears sliding down his face.

I can't help but wonder what I look like to them.

The only noise is the ticking of the clock.

I have no idea how much time passes. One by one, the other patients are taken away by more nurses. They're replaced by others... a girl in her twenties, a woman who clearly struggles with addiction, a bedraggled man in his forties.

I've always known that the world was broken, but I always thought I'd be one of the ones making it better, not breaking it more.

Finally, my nurse returns and gestures for me again. I don't know if I'm relieved or terrified.

The moment the office door opens again and I see my father inside, I know it's the second option.

How could I do this to him?

I fix my gaze on the floor as I make my way to the chair beside his. I can feel his heartbroken gaze begging me to look at him, but I just can't.

And when he reaches out to lay his hand on my shoulder, I shudder away from his touch.

I know he just wants to love me, but I just don't deserve that.

"Alright, Nila," the therapist announces, "Your adoptive father has decided to take you back to Tennessee for treatment. You will complete a five day inpatient program, after which your therapists will evaluate you and make a longer term plan. He has booked tickets for the two of you on a flight leaving early tomorrow morning. You will stay in a room here until it is time for you to go. If you are not checked in to treatment by noon tomorrow, we will call law enforcement. Understood?"

I nod, unable to speak through the panic choking my throat.

How is this happening to me?

The night is long and lonely. The nurses don't talk to me, don't do anything except peak in every half an hour to make sure I haven't found some way to hurt myself. I don't really sleep at all. I don't want to. I've given my mind way too much material to work with today.

It's still dark outside when they finally come in and tell me I've been discharged, and I can go with... as they refuse to call him anything else... "my adopted father". They walk me to the doors of the hospital, where he's waiting.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders immediately, thanks the nurse who brought me, and we turn and leave the building.

The minute we step outside, he's turning and wrapping me in a tight, desperate hug.

I know I should pull away, should get down on my knees and beg him to just treat me like I deserve, but I can't. Instead, I cling to him, and I start to cry.

"I love you so much, Nila," he murmurs, his own voice choked with tears. "I love you so much."

"Dad..." I press my face into him, hiding in him from all the shame that's crashing down on me. "Dad, I'm so... I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Darling, I've already forgiven you," he tells me softly. "But I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you."

I'm happy to stay right where we are. This way, I don't have to look him the eye. This is simple. I wish this never had to end.

But it does, and he reluctantly releases me, bending down to kiss the top of my head before gently turning me around, whispering as he does, "There's some other people who want to see you... and a bunch more who wish they could."

I sneak a glance up off of the floor. Joel, Vince, Grandpa, and Grandma are all standing there. If I could disappear, I would.

Vince is the first to move forward. I'm shocked to feel him shaking as he wraps me in a hug. But I know he's probably remembering me with blood pouring down my arm as he desperately tried to make it stop. I know I certainly am.

God, I hate myself.

"Kiddo..." But that's as far as he gets before he chokes on a sob and pulls me a little closer.

"I'm sorry, Vince." That's the only thing I know to say to any of them, though I know I don't deserve their forgiveness.

"It's okay, Nila," he murmurs, still crying. "I'm so sorry you're going through all of this. If I could take it for you, I promise you I would."

Slowly, he releases me to place both hands on my shoulders, bending down so we're eyelevel. "I'm your best friend, please look at me," he pleads softly.

Painfully, against my own will, I do.

The depth of the pain in his eyes is enough to make me step in front of a train all over again.

"I gotta stay with the bus," he tells me seriously. "But I will be back to Tennessee before they ever let me see you. When they do, I will be there, and I'm gonna hug you like this all over again. Okay?"

"Okay," I whisper.

"Hey, and everybody wants you to know they love you and they're praying for you," he adds. "They all wanted to be here, but they told us you weren't allowed to see anyone, and we didn't want to be too obvious about breaking that rule. They are all here in spirit, though."

All I can do is nod.

He squeezes my shoulders hard. "Be strong, push through. It's gonna feel like hell, but I promise it'll get better in the end. Okay? I promise. I love you, Kiddo."

"I love you too." It comes out so softly that I think it was more mouthed than said.

He walks away still crying, and is replaced by my grandparents, hugging me at once. I bury my face in Grandpa's shoulder, once again simply because it means I don't have to look at them.

"I'm sorry."

"Sweetheart, we forgive you," Grandma murmurs as she strokes my hair. "We love you so much."

"Darling, God has such big plans for your life," Grandpa adds. "I know it hurts right now but it isn't always going to feel like this. And while it still does, we are all here for you."

I'm too ashamed to answer, but they don't seem to really expect one. "There were only three tickets available, so we'll be following on the bus," Grandpa says after a moment. "But we'll be there as soon as we can, and you will never leave our prayers in the meantime, alright?"

I just nod, face still pressed into his shirt.

Grandma kisses my hair, he does the same, then they slowly release me and walk off after Vince.

Now the only person left in front of me is my uncle. My uncle, who pulled me off of the tracks a moment before I died. My uncle, the first to hold me as I bled all over him. My uncle, who could only choke out that he loved me, even in the midst of all of that.

The weight of the shame feels like it could crush me. My head drops even further than before, my hands coming up to cover my face as he slowly closes the distance between us and bends down to my level.

"Nila."

I don't look up.

"Darling..."

"I'm sorry!" My voice is barely audible. "Uncle Joel, I am so, so sorry! I..."

He cuts me off by wrapping me in his arms so tight that for a moment, I can't breathe... in the best way.

Without me meaning for them to, my hands transfer from covering my face to clinging to his shirt as I sob into it as well.

"I don't know if I've ever been as scared as I was yesterday," he tells me quietly. "But I am not angry with you, Sweetheart. I love you. I had forgiven you before I even realized what was happening. You do not need to be ashamed, you do not need to apologize, because you are absolutely precious to me, and nothing could ever change that. You understand?"

"No!" It slips out before I can bite it back. "That doesn't... it doesn't make any sense!"

He pulls back so that he can look me in the face, and for some stupid reason my eyes travel up to his.

"I love you," he tells me simply, tears in his eyes. "That doesn't have to make any sense."

I disappeared only to come back with this mess I'm trying to call a chapter, and for that I apologize.