Chapter 5

Getting up from the floor, she took the box with her back to the kitchen, where she made herself another pot of coffee and prepared to dig in. For the first time, in too long to remember, she felt half alive and hoped the feeling last. She was tired of looking at the back end of despair, time for some light and laughter, even if it was with the people she created in her own mind.

It was another few hours before she came up for air. Going back over what she'd written, she felt the first real sense of hope since her world had unraveled. Sitting there at the ratty old table, she felt empowered and accomplished with her small victory.

You see, all is not lost. There's still a little piece of you in there. She read it over again to be sure, and it still flowed well. Something was forming in the pit of her gut that told her maybe life was about to change. That maybe her days of crying on the bathroom floor were at an end.

"This is pretty good stuff, Kerry girl." She felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated her next move. She no longer had access to a computer, so she'd have to go to the library tomorrow and do some research.

The thought of going out in public gave her pause. It had been a while since she'd seen any of her old friends, Paul and Jenny's friends now. She felt bile rise in her throat at the pitying looks she was sure to get if she ventured out into the little town they all called home. Had she left it too long before facing the world again? What was everyone thinking?

She actually broke out in a sweat as the acid burned in her stomach, and she had to do breathing exercises to get herself to calm down. She felt that now familiar feeling of despair trying to drag her back down into the darkness and fought like hell not to let it win this time.

When she got the shakes under control, she tried talking herself through what she needed to do next. With each thought came the dreaded 'what if.' What if she failed and fell flat on her face? What if she'd already wasted the best years of her life? Was it too late to start over?

She was only twenty-eight, but that was a far cry from the eighteen-year-old she'd been when she'd started out on what she'd thought was her life's dream. She had no real prospects other than the dregs of a long-forgotten dream. Her life wasn't supposed to reach this crossroad; she hadn't prepared for it.

She was supposed to be a mother by now, a mother and a wife. She wasn't supposed to be starting over from nothing at her age. That depression that she'd held off for the past few hours nipped at her heels viciously, like a barking dog out for blood. She knew once it sunk its teeth in, it would be a while before it let go again. Please no.

She'd never known until now that depression was a live thing. It was like another presence in the room. Guiding and dictating your every move-your every thought. It wasn't just in your head; it seeped into your pores, and like a vine, wrapped itself around tissue and bone to suck you back in, to hold you hostage.

Was it always going to be like this, this cat and mouse game that played out in her mind? She felt like she was always taking one step forward and ten steps back. Looking out towards the little cracked window, she noticed how much time had passed since she'd been sitting there.

That was another thing. Time seemed to be doing its own thing these days. Some days it would fly by unnoticed, and others, it would drag on as if it would never end. Those were the worse.

She got up to make herself a cup of soup, which was about all she'd been able to keep down in the months since the divorce. She drank half of it standing at the kitchen sink before going to empty her bladder, which she had neglected to do since she'd become so engrossed in her writing.

After she was done, she splashed her face with water before looking into the mirror. Looking down at her new body, she could see the changes in the way that her clothes just hung on her. She'd lost a good twenty pounds. Not that she'd needed to lose weight. She'd always been a healthy one forty, and on her five-eight frame, she had carried it well.

Now looking into the mirror again, she appreciated the new definition in her cheeks. She'd have to do something about her hair, though; it looked like crap. She hefted it and lifted the strands in her hands.

Her once beautiful strawberry blonde curls that everyone had always exclaimed over were now limp and blah. "Time to do something about that."

She grabbed a bottle of her favorite shampoo, one of the only things her darling ex had allowed her to take from their home under the direction of his then-girlfriend, who'd instructed him on what she deserved.

Which apparently was nothing because that was pretty much what she'd ended up with. They'd taken it all, good heavens; even down to the new designer wear, he'd grudgingly allowed her to buy after years of thrift store bin diving.

All her beautiful things were gone. The nice little butterfly crystals she'd started to collect because she'd always been so fascinated by them. Nothing too extravagant because even after he'd started making money, she was always conscious of their humble beginnings. Now his new wife drove a high-end luxury car and had the best of everything.

"No more of that, Kerryanne Lashley." With one last look in the mirror, she hopped into the shower and washed her hair twice, and deep conditioned it before brushing it to a high sheen. She admired her handy work in the mirror, her spirits already lifted by the results.

She climbed into bed feeling a huge sense of achievement, and with a deep sigh, turned it off and went to sleep. For the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to what the new day would bring.