Chapter 12

Jenna's POV

We brought Samantha home the morning after we'd rushed her to the hospital.

The first thing I did with her was change the bedding in her room and help her put away the clothes we'd bought.

"We can paint the room, if you want," I said. Right now, it was sort of beige and gold.

"Um. That's okay. For now, I guess," she said. She still wasn't sure she'd be staying with us long. Frankly, we weren't sure either.

"Okay, so, we have bedding all done, fresh clean sheets in the closet, your clothes are put away. What should we do now?"

"I'm," she started. "Um, I'm kinda hungry."

"Oh! Okay, let's go find something to eat. What are you in the mood for?"

"Just a sandwich," she said.

"Okay, I can do that. What kind of sandwich are you in the mood for."

She looked away as if she'd be in trouble for her choice.

"Peanut butter and jam?"

"Okay. Let's test your sugar, see where you're at and do your insulin. The proper amount, right?"

"Right," she said quietly.

We went down to the kitchen and Samantha pulled out her kit. She tested her sugar which read 80.

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Yep. About where it should be when I haven't eaten in a bit. Can I see the jam you have? I have to figure out the carbs for that. Peanut butter and bread I know," she said.

"We have strawberry, raspberry and grape. Which would you prefer?"

She looked at me like I'd told her the only jam we had was made from imported berries from some exotic locale.

"Uh... can I try the grape? I've only ever had raspberry."

I laughed.

"Of course," I said, pulling the jar out of the fridge. As well as the bread and peanut butter from the cupboard.

I watched as Samantha read the label and started calculating. She pulled out the insulin pen, attached a needle to it and dialled it to the dose she needed. I watched carefully. She dialled a few units and then her hand started shaking.

"Is that the right dose?" I asked.

She shook her head and tears started falling.

"My dad never let me take the right amount. I'm scared to turn it to the right dose," she said.

"Oh, sweetie. It's okay. I promise. Go ahead. You'll see. Nothing is going to happen,"

I watched as she took a deep breath and shakily turned the dial a few more units.

"Is that it?"

"No. I need two more units, but I can't get my hand to turn it," she cried.

"Okay. Take your time. I'll get your sandwich ready, and once you have the right dose, you can eat."

I watched carefully as I spread the peanut butter and jam on the bread. Samantha took a deep breath and added two more units.

"Good job. See? The world did not come crashing down," I smiled at her as she injected the insulin into her stomach.

"Now, you take that one at mealtimes, but what about this one?" I asked, pulling a box out of the fridge.

"That's long acting. I take that at bedtime. Twenty units, I think is what I'm supposed to take."

I looked at the box and it said 20 units.

"Okay. Does it have to stay in the fridge?"

"Just the pens I'm not using. The other one can stay out for a month. My dad would make me make it last two months."

"So, you'd take half your dose?"

"A quarter."

"Five units?!"

She nodded.

"Oh, sweetie," I sighed. "You don't have to do that here, okay?"

She nodded.

"I'll try," she said quietly.

"Now, the doctors at the hospital think you need to talk to someone to help you get used to being able to use the right amounts of insulin and help you feel better. The doctor wants to see you tomorrow at one. Okay?"

"A shrink?" She asked, looking both mad and scared. "I'm not crazy!"

"No one said you are. But your dad has made you think you shouldn't take your proper medicine. Look how hard it was for you to do that just now."

"I AM NOT CRAZY!!! I DON'T NEED A SHRINK!!!" She yelled. The loudest I had ever heard in the past few days. "I AM NOT GOING TO SEE SOME STUPID HEAD SHRINKER AND YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!"

She threw her sandwich, and the plate, across the kitchen and bolted. She was heading out the front door, which thankfully, Tyler was just walking in. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. Samantha was kicking and screaming, trying to get away from Tyler, which, while he is strong, he wasn't prepared for, but he held on.

"Whoa!! What did I just walk into?" He asked as Samantha screamed and flailed against him.

"I just told her about her appointment with the therapist," I said, trying to help Tyler control Samantha.

"That's all?" He asked, taking a fist to the jaw. "Ow. Wow. She's strong."

He managed to get control of Samantha's arms, and carried the kicking, screaming teenager to the couch, where he was able to sit down and get one of his legs over hers while she tried to kick.

"Samantha, I'm going to hold you like this until you calm down," Tyler said, calmly.

She continued kicking and screaming. I went into the kitchen and cleaned up the broken plate and sandwich.

I made her another one, because she still needed to eat and she would have too much insulin on board if she didn't. And I wasn't going to punish her for this outburst. She'd had enough punishment. But we certainly would be discussing proper ways of letting out anger or fear or whatever this was.

Samantha was still struggling against Tyler who was speaking to her calmly, telling her he would let her go as soon as she calmed down, but that she was okay, and being mad or scared was okay, but not if she was going to hurt herself or anyone else.

I saw her starting to calm, I thought, but I could still see the fire in her eyes. Tyler had the back of her head so he couldn't see what I could. I could see him starting to relax and shook my head at him. He picked up what I meant.

"Are you calmer now, Samantha?" He asked. She nodded. I shook my head. He made as if he was going to release her and she tried to bolt. He tightened his hold again and continued to speak to her in a calm voice. I sat at the end of the couch and spoke calmly as well.

"Samantha, you're safe here. You're okay. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be mad." Tyler kept repeating in incredibly calm tones, even as Samantha tried to break free and hit him.

Finally, I saw the fight go out of her. She stopped screaming and fighting and trying to hit Tyler. She started crying.

"Shhh, shhhh," Tyler soothed her. "It's okay. You're okay."

He kept a firm hold on her still, but he had relaxed it a bit. He just kept speaking in soothing tones until she was fully relaxed and had stopped crying.

"There," Tyler said. "Feel better?"

Samantha nodded a bit.

"Honey? Are you hungry?" I asked. "I made you another sandwich. You took your insulin, so you should eat, no?"

Tyler indicated I should bring the sandwich over to him. So I did. He talked soothingly to Samantha and coaxed her into eating the sandwich. Worried that she'd expended so much energy and used up whatever sugar stores her body already had, I brought her a glass of milk as well. She drank it greedily, as if she'd never see a glass of milk again.

When she was done, I took the plate and the glass and put them away and sat down near Tyler and Samantha. I watched as Samantha's eyelids grew heavy and she relaxed into Tyler, falling asleep. Her breathing evened and her eyes closed. Tyler looked over at me and I nodded. He let go of the hold he had Samantha in, then carefully picked her up and carried her upstairs to her room. I followed and watched as he placed her carefully on her bed and covered her with the TwentyOne Pilots blanket he'd bought her. We left her room and quietly closed the door, leaving it open just a bit in case she called out or felt trapped.

Tyler looked at me and breathed out.

"Oof," he said. We went downstairs.