Page 50 of Insidious

He flinches. “Luna—”

“Get out!” I scream.

I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at him. It hits his chest and drops to the floor.

Isaac stands there for a second, like he’s still hoping I’ll take it back, and then something in his face gives way. “I’ll go,” he mumbles. And he does.

He walks out of the room, and the door closes softly behind him. For a brief, absurd moment, an image flashes through my mind of a dog slipping out of a room with its tail between its legs, and I almost laugh before I break down crying again.

Chapter 13

Luna

The storm in my heart rages—confusion, anger, hurt, and yes, disappointment. How could he do this? She is his ex!! How could he be so stupid? It takes me a little while to calm down enough to call Lily. She doesn’t even hesitate, saying she’ll be here in the afternoon.

By the time she knocks at the door, I’ve just finished another session with Sandra, who has somehow become a steady presence over the last few days, quietly stitching things together in the background; liaising with the community mental health team, making sure there is something resembling a plan before I leave. One of our neighbours is going to come and help out while Isaac is away at work. And now I’m not sure I am ready for the real world.

I watch Sandra as she gathers her notes.

“How do you find the time to come see me every day? The NHS is run off its feet. Not that I am not grateful.”

She pauses and glances at me, one brow lifting slightly.

“Don’t you have … other patients?” I add with a smile.

Sandra smiles at that—a small, knowing smile—and shrugs as she tucks her pen away.

“I do,” she says simply.

I wait, expecting more.

She looks at me for a moment longer, her expression soft, as if remembering something.

“You remind me of myself, from a long time ago,” she replies.

There’s something in the way Sandra says it that makes me realise she isn’t going to explain further.

There is a knock, and then Lily’s head appears around the door. “Busy?” she asks, her eyes flicking between us.

Sandra moves quickly. “Nope. We were just finishing up here.” She turns back to me, her expression warm. “If all goes as planned, we are all set for discharge tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

The word makes me anxious. This period in the hospital has been like an oasis of calm, and now, the real world is rushing to grab me. It has been a little over two and a half weeks in the hospital, and I am beyond ready. Stir-crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it. I want my house. My bed. My bathroom. My garden. I want to walk into the nursery and look at it properly, not through the fog I left it in, and decide what needs changing, what needs fixing, what needs to go. But I am scared.

Sandra gives me a small hug before leaving, closing the door softly behind her, and Lily steps into the room, dropping her bag onto the chair and looking at me properly for the first time.

“Well,” she says, folding her arms, “you look less like death.”

“I’ll take that,” I reply drily.

She snorts and comes closer, but there’s a pause in her, too, like she’s gauging how much of me is actually here.

We don’t get far before my mind drifts back to earlier today, to when Isaac came in, with Mum and Dad as buffers.

My husband stood there, hovering like he always does now, like he is both desperate to say something and terrified of saying the wrong thing. “Luna, I was thinking—”

I had cut him off before he could finish. “Maybe you should take the night shift,” I said, my voice like a frozen lake, almost too calm. “Go back to work. You’ve been off long enough.”