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When I got the call…when Henry told Harper and me what Andrew did…
I knew Andrew had won; he cruelly snatched her from me. I understand my Poppy all too well, and I fear she might never fully recover from this traumatic ordeal. It happened at her family's graves, a sacred place that should have offered peace and solace.
Andrew cornered her. Tricked us all. Poppy was helpless as the horror unfolded right before her hazel eyes—eyes that once brimmed with vibrancy and life.
Will those eyes ever regain their former luster, or will they forever be overshadowed by the stain of that dreadful day?
Whether they do or don’t, I won’t leave. I promised Poppy through thick and thin. This is the thickest, sickest thing I've witnessed someone do to another soul.
I’ll be here helping her. I love her regardless of whether her mind is broken. I can live with that. I just need Dr. Peterson to teachherhow to do so.
I won’t let Andrew claim her fully.
Poppy is mine.
It might take years, heck, even decades, but one day, I’m going to see her head tip back, her eyes bursting with happy tears as she laughs. I’ll see her smile widen with joy, her face blush with lust.
Fuck, one day, I want to see our child bouncing on her knee as she teaches them the ABCs. I want a family with her. I want everything with Poppy.
I will save her from herself.
That's what love is; it's undying, unchanging through the best of times and the absolute worst. It's always there, and my love for Poppy will never falter, never cease. Andrew might have tried to destroy it, but guess what? It's only grown stronger.
Chapter 54
Poppy
It’s Thanksgiving today, and I'm still in the psychiatric hospital even though I've been going through the stages of so-called healing as I sit down and talk with Dr. Peterson. I think they're keeping me here because no one really knows what to do afterward. Do I stay in my hometown and move in with Henry? Do I go back to Texas and move in with Julian?
Where do I belong? Because everyone seems to want a piece of me.
It should make me feel special.
I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I don’t dwell on it anymore.
I've heard Henry and Julian arguing, so I think in the meantime, instead of arguing because everyone is so tired of doing it, they're just keeping me here, and, to be honest, that's okay with me.
I’m not ready to play the game of life. I can’t imagine going back to work yet.
In the meantime, everyone is playing dollhouse with me. In my small room, they set up a whole makeshift dining room. It is, after all, Thanksgiving—a time for families to unite, even under awkward circumstances.
Henry brought in a pale white collapsible table with extra folding chairs so everyone had a seat. Julian is having the food catered, but brace yourselves; I know we all are. Harper said she wanted to bring the desserts.
I just hope she didn't try to bake them herself. If she did, I'm sure there's a kitchen on fire somewhere.
I put myself to use and set the table, an act that makes Julian and Henry smile. I think they think I’m moving on; as Dr. Peterson told them, it’s all progress.
Me? Well, I’m not sure.
I still see Andrew when I close my eyes. There are odd little things that bring me back to that day. I remember how the grass felt under my knees as he forced me to straddle his lap. I still smell a faint scent of sweat, and it reminds me of my fear when he turned the gun on himself.
One little sound can set me off.
How can someone love a ticking time bomb? Haven’t they heard of shrapnel?
The other day, I closed my eyes in the shower, letting the water cascade over my skin. It felt like the droplets of blood that had splattered from Andrew’s head— a grim reminder served up via my personal, hellish waterpark. The water’s touch, which once soothed, now felt like a thousand tiny echoes of that day, each drop a reminder of what I had seen.
I guess I had a meltdown because the next thing I knew, I was waking up sedated and tucked into bed. They had me swaddled like a burrito, albeit a heavily medicated one. Julian and Henry were there, hovering over me. Through the haze, Harper’s sobs reached me from the hallway, a sorrowful soundtrack to my groggy awakening.
