ELLE

By Chimere Williams

• Language: English
• Publisher: PRESSED
• Release date: May 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087884639

Chimere Williams

Chimere Williams lives in Chicago, Illinois. She currently works as a consultant for diversity & inclusion management when she isn't creating stories or traveling with family. Her debut fictional prose ELLE offers a look inside what can happen when a narcissist perfects their craft of gaslighting, a story that she knows personally.

Book preview

Portions of this book are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Portions of this book are works of nonfiction.

Certain names and identifying characteristics have been changed.

Copyright © 2019 Chimere Williams

All rights reserved.

First Edition 2020

Book Design: Lindsay Heider Diamond

ISBN: 978-0-578-63001-4

ISBN: 978-1-087-88463-9 (e-book)

www.lifewithchi.com

Dedications

For Yaviana,

the day that you are ready to read this book,

remind yourself that storms do not last forever.

Table of Contents

Dedications

One

Two

Three

Four

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

One

Everything is so bright in the room. I’m trying to sit up, but a sharp pain attacks my abdomen. Someone rushes to my side as I let out a loud groan. Suddenly I hear a male voice, telling me not to move so quickly. I start to open my eyes to see who it is, but it hurts too badly. I lay there instead, in silence, while I feel a warm touch on my arm. The door swings open, and I hear a female voice ask, How's Ms. Elle doing? The first voice says, She still doesn't have much energy, but she tried to open her eyes today. He asks the woman if I will remember any of this. She calls him Mr. Moore and says that she isn't sure and explains that the impact to my skull could've killed me. Suddenly, a deafening beeping sound starts, and I feel an enormous pressure in my chest. Mr. Moore screams out, asking for a doctor to assist immediately. My vision is hazy as I try peering into my surroundings. I can hear many people and voices in the room, but then all I can do is focus on the noise fading. Three days later, I am being discharged with a 24-hour caregiver named Missy Pereira and directions are to attend an outpatient appointment once a week with a psychotherapist.

The meetings are to help with my memory and overall mental health. As I pull into a driveway with Missy, I notice Easton Moore is sitting on the curb. Easton is my neighbor that I hired to do contract work on my home a few times. He’s very kind and always helps with my trash bins when he notices me struggling to bring them in. Easton is very tall, with a beautiful caramel complexion. He has soft curly hair and a firm low speaking voice. I catch myself glancing over his muscles in his perfectly fitted shirt. He stands up as the car pulls in, and rushes to get my door.

My nurse giggles after telling him that’s supposed to be her job. He lets the door handle go and takes my bags inside instead. I look over at my nurse as she rolls out a wheelchair. She’s a petite, fair-skinned woman with short black hair. On the way over, she told me that she was born in Brazil but moved to the States in her teen years. I can see that she's fierce but sweet. She’s giving me a very sassy look as she nods to insist that I sit in the wheelchair. I don't fully understand the need for a nurse, but I know that this is my new life. The doctors at the hospital talked with me about the incident before my departure to make sure I was up to speed on things. I didn't say much in response during those meetings, but at times, a single tear would fall down my face.

Missy rolls me over the threshold of my front door, and I glance over to the sideboard. I notice a photo with me in it, along with a tall, slim, charming-looking man with blond hair. His skin is quite the opposite of my pure ebony tone. Noticing my stare, Easton tries to place the frame face down, but I stop him and tell him to leave it there. The doctors said that photos will help me with memories, even if they’re bad ones. Missy turns the corner, and I see there’s a bed in my living room, surrounded by magazines, books, boxes of Kleenex, and a bunch of other things. Stairs won't be easy for me for a