Even If It Hurts -H.S. AU

72

Six weeks after

Grade two concussion.
Bruised Trachea.
Contusions to the bone on legs, hip and upper arms.
Internal bleeding into abdomen.
Severe cramping in uterus and vaginal bleeding due to early miscarriage in the first trimester.

These are the more serious injuries and symptoms that lined the page on my medical chart. All of these physical injuries sound terrible, and they are, but it's nothing compared to the internal battle I have in my head every single day.

I'm so tired all the time. I can't bring myself to do anything except eat, sleep and shower when Phoebe comes over to help me.

Harry is trying so hard, bless him. I know I'm giving him nothing, and I wish I could find it within myself to let him in, but I just can't. He's right there, all the time, but I still miss him so much. I can't let my walls down long enough to give him anything and it's honestly killing me.

He's somehow managed to find the perfect balance of keeping busy and checking on me. After the first week home, I knew when he would come into the room to bring me something to eat, or just say hi. I definitely look forward to those moments. Even if I can't bring myself to say it, I appreciate it more than he'll ever know.

I had a therapy appointment yesterday, which was a suggestion of Harry's. I could tell he was nervous bringing it up to me, but I wasn't going to fight with him about it. He's been doing so much for me lately, if he thinks it could help, and it would make him feel better, then I'll do it in a heartbeat.

I didn't say much to my therapist, mostly just recapped that I was attacked and explained the bruises on my neck. I didn't go into as much detail as I did giving my statement to the police, but she didn't pry either. Thank god, because I can't bring myself to talk about the miscarriage out loud.

It feels like if I say the words, it makes it too real. Which is stupid, I know, since the bleeding is only just now starting to stop and the bruise on my stomach is barely beginning to fade. It's just too painful.

I carefully slide out of bed and plant my feet on the floor. I slowly rise from the mattress and head toward the bathroom. Phoebe has been helping me for the past few weeks, but my therapist said it would be good for me to start doing some things for myself again. Prove to myself that I can.

I turn on the faucet in the tub and plug the drain. I pour some kind of soap from a white bottle into the stream and inhale deeply when the scent of vanilla fills the air. I wander over to the mirror and stare at myself as I lean my hands on the counter.

Get it together, Violet. I say to myself as I look over my sunken eyes and paling purple marks on my neck.

I push my pajama pants down my legs and kick them to the side when they pool around my feet. The mirror starts to fog and I swipe my hand over the condensation. I catch sight of the scar that runs over my knuckle and down my middle finger and the memory of screaming at my reflection before I punched the glass flashes through my mind.

The reminder startles me and I drop my toothbrush in the sink, knocking over the soap dispenser when I try to catch it.

"Fuck." I mumble to myself when it clatters to the floor.

"Vi?" I hear Harry call for me as he slowly pushes the bathroom door open.

"Harry-" I exhale his name and I feel my cheeks heat when our eyes meet. His gaze never moves from my face, but I find myself shying away from him.