Page 89 of Beautiful Trauma

“She wants to die, Silas. I don’t know if anyone can stop her. She needs intense help. The doctor used that word. ‘Intense.’ What if she refuses to go involuntarily? They will let her go at some point.”

“Elle will figure it out. She is beside herself with guilt. I know it doesn’t look like it right now because she’s switched into ‘woman on a mission’ mode, but she was literally vomiting over this.” Silas looked in the direction of his girlfriend.

“Cee hates me. She didn’t want me to call anyone.”

“She’s not herself right now.”

Elle came back over. “They want her to do inpatient care for at least a few days. Get settled with physicians and treatment.”

“She won’t consent,” I explained.

“They can force her.” Determination shone in her eyes. “I’m going to go talk to her. You should go get some rest.”

Hesitating, I nodded. I felt so defeated. I wanted nothing more than to march into that room and never leave Cee’s side, but I was causing more issues than I was solving. Elle would make sure everything worked out. I could see it in her face.

So, I left.

* * *

Elle called the next day and let me know that Cee was going voluntarily to a facility nearby. “They will let you see her if you get here before the transfer.”

For the first time in days, I felt a bit of hope. “I’ll be right there.”

I raced to Walter Reed and met Silas outside. “Did you sleep at all? You still look like shit.”

“You know, man, you are a real kick to the balls,” I replied as we took the elevator to Cee’s floor.

“She was asleep, but you can go in,” Elle said with a sad smile.

I walked into her room quietly, careful not to wake her, and I just sat beside her bed. The weeks of constant worrying and the uncertainty of the day were more than I could handle. I broke down in sobs beside her.

I remembered the conversation we had about her utter disregard for living when she thought Eli might kill himself with drugs. She admitted she probably needed some inpatient help.

Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Could we have avoided all of this?

She woke up and stared at me. “Cee.” I kissed her hand, relief washing over me.

“Go. Just leave me alone, Sergio,” she rasped, pulling her hand away.

It felt like a knife to my heart, but I’d give this woman anything she wanted as long as she made it through this. “I just need to know that you’re going to fight this.”

She scrunched up her face. “Fuck you.”

“You need to get better.”

“And you can’t tell me what to do.”

I tried to tamp down the anger I felt at the entire situation. “Don’t you want to stop living like this?”

“You ruined that for me, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just let me die?” Her voice was cold. She was angry with me.

“Look, I know I’m not your best friend. Hell, I don’t even know if you consider me a friend right now. But you’re my best friend. I can’t let you do this to yourself. So, you make the call. We can be friends, or I can leave you alone forever, but just fucking figure your shit out. Accept the help. Don’t make me play dirty.”

“I hate you,” she snapped.

I flinched. “Yeah, well, I love you. And I’m not letting you quit.”

Shit. Did I just tell her I loved her?