I woke up to see the ceiling of my bedroom. I thought that maybe it had all been a dream till I tried to turn my head to the side, it sent rivers of pain through my whole body. And as I tried to gasp out loud in pain I caused myself more inexplicable pain when I tried to speak. My throat felt like their was a ten pound metal collar around it and it was set on fire.

"Jay?" I heard a hoarse and tear filled voice ask from across my bed.

I looked over and saw Reta jump up from my chair and make her way over to my bed side in a heart beat. She looked worn from worry and tear streaks stained her cheeks from her red rimmed eyes. She looked so old, and so small, something I had never imagined she could pull off. She was the strongest person I knew.

"Oh god Jay you're awake," Reta said happily as she kissed my forehead repeatedly.

I managed a weak nod before moving my chapped lips as if to speak.

"Don't talk just yet, hold on," she said as she opened up her phone, pounded in numbers and placed it to her ear.

"She's awake," Reta said as she snapped her phone shut.

Within less than a minute I heard clambering outside my apartment and then my front door burst open and heavy fast foot steps make their way to my room. Ernie burst carrying a large tray and Sam was behind him, carrying something. Ernie placed the tray down on my bedside table, it contained a larger pitcher of water and cups, aspirin and everything else under the sun a patient with a damaged throat could possibly want. Sam placed down right next to the bed a giant plastic cooler and lifted the lid so Reta could inspect the content, and I sneaked a peak in. It held a container of ice chips taking up one half of the cooler. The other half was full of popsicles of all kinds and shapes, pudding, jello, sliced lemon wedges, little containers of napoleon ice cream and frozen peas and ice packs, all set on a bed of ice to keep just that cold. The frozen peas of course to be used as an ice pack as well, not to be ingested. Ernie had also brought more tea bags than I could shake a fist at and an electric kettle to make tea.

"Thank you," I whispered, my throat still hurting.

"We, we didn't take you to the hospital right off because Gerard had said not to, not until you had said your peace about it. Said something about you not liking hospitals," Reta said as she filled a cup with ice chips, ice water and squeezed a lemon wedge into it and dropping it in before sticking in a straw and holding it for me to sip from.

I leaned forward and took a long sip, letting the cold liquid soothe my chapped lips and damaged throat.

"Thank you. I don't like them, Gee was right," I said, shortening his name so as not to stress myself.

It was true, I didn't like hospitals and rather avoid them at all costs. Unless I was bleeding to death or severely dying I didn't go to them. It was my personal choice and a long story I really didn't feel like explaining right at the moment to them all. But the three of them seemed to get it for they nodded their heads in an understanding way.

"Do you want to file a report?" Reta asked.

"Maybe, I didn't get a look at the guy so it wouldn't do much good," I said hoarsely, wondering if my voice would ever get back.

I leaned my hand out and struggled to pop the top on the pain meds, Reta took from me and did it herself, shaking out a little over the suggested highest dosage. But this was a special case and I didn't have doctor prescribed pain medication to help. I took them from her gratefully and popped them into the little I could open my mouth and swallowed them with a giant gulp of ice water. I watched as Reta reached into the cooler and scooped another cup into the ice chips. This one she just placed next to my water cup.

"For eating," she explained as I glanced over at it.

I once again nodded my head in understanding. I felt my eyes start to close, I was overly tired after it. But then a question popped into my head and I wondered why I hadn't asked it right off. Probably the shock from all the trauma.

"How?" I asked.

Reta caught my drift.

"Gerard called me to tell me what he knew. He was hysteric, saying they had called to wish you happy birthday and that you hadn't really responded, that all there was was painful sounding breathing on your end. And then after you had managed to gasp out help your end had gone dead. He tried to get you to talk for a bit before grabbing Mikey's phone and dialing me. He said he had your phone was still on so the GPS was tracking where you were. He told me you were close to that cafe and Ernie and I ran to get you. We found you unconscious and not looking so hot. We brought you here after checking for vitals and finding you still with us. Gerard explained about you and hospitals and here you are. The guys should be here tomorrow or so, they're dropping the tour to come home early.

"NO!" I managed to say loudly, and while I paid for it in pain it got my point across.

The three standing in front of me had shocked looks on their faces, like I had grown a second and third head.

"Call them. And tell them. That I'm fine," I said in pieces, throat hurting more from my loud outburst.

"Tell them to continue the tour and to not blow it. They already helped save my life they don't need to blow their futures," I said slowly, taking my time to form the words so as not to stress my throat.

It was hard work and made me scared once again for the future state of my throat and voice.

"Gerard's not going to like this very much," Reta warned, shaking her head but looking like she understood my point of view.

"Tell him I will never. Speak to him again if he doesn't listen. And I'll stop. Taking pictures," I threatened, meaning every word of it.

I wasn't going to let them ruin everything they had worked so hard on, way before I was a part of the picture, for something like checking in on me. Reta was more than capable of filling them in on how I was doing till I could talk better and do it myself.

"All right dear, I will. And I'll make sure he sticks to it and doesn't come back. You get some rest and just push 4 on your speed dial if you need anything. One of us will be up in a jiffy," Reta said as she patted my hand and kissed my forehead before standing to leave with her husband and Sam.

I nodded my head yes and felt my eyes close on their own. I really was tired.
-xXx-
I slept, and drank, and eventually ate, and then slept some more for a good long while. It was almost a week before I was even able to get out of bed on my own, I was really worked over. It wasn't until I was sure I could get there on my own that I let myself look at my reflection, to asses the outward damage. As I raised my eyes to my mirror I flinched, both inwardly and outwardly. There were ugly bruises scarring the flesh around my neck. I looked like an extra from a bad horror movie or t.v. show about victims of heavy abuse. I was sallow in color and had bags under my eyes even though all I did was sleep. I felt tears stream down my face as I continued to look at my image. It was fairly awful to behold.

After that, when I could I would shuffle my way out to my living room and sit in the sunlight on my couch or comfy chair, soaking it in. Sometimes just napping, sometimes just staring outside or at the painting gracing my not so white anymore wall. I didn't talk much as I was trying to save my voice as much as possible. That and I really didn't want to hear how bad it still was.

I eventually called the guys, mainly Gerard, on my own to talk to them. As Gerard had picked up I got an ear full, and it sounded like he was doing it all in one breath, with no signs of stopping. So I just sat there and let him get it all out, listening to every word, knowing full well it would be pointless to try and get a word in edge wise.

"And in the end, you're the dumbest and luckiest person in the entire world," Gerard finished gasp like.

Guess it had really been close to all in one breath like I had guessed.

"Sorry, but I wasn't going to let you fuck things up," I said simply as a lot of what he had ranted about had been how I wouldn't let him and the guys come back and see me.

And take care of me. Which I REALLY wouldn't have any of.

"You're insufferable," Gerard pouted on his end of the phone, realizing he wasn't going to win this fight.

I had made my point final and was going to hear no more about it.

"And you're the lead singer of an almost highly famous band. Same thing," I said back, trying to joke.

"I miss you. As does everyone else," Gerard said after the moment of silence that followed his chuckle at my little try at a joke.

"And I miss you guys. You'll get here when you get here," I said slowly, still trying to conserve my voice.

"I know, it's just that well this sucks. Jay I gotta go, we're being called in for sound check. Call me whenever you can okay?" Gerard asked, sounding scared that I wouldn't.

"Will do," I said slowly.

I heard him hang up and then set my phone down and curled up on my couch, falling asleep in the sun light streaming in through my living room window.
-xXx-
I kept up that routine for about two more weeks before I started to go stir crazy. I was better on the inside at least and staying cooped up in my apartment was driving me bonkers. My voice was still a little raspy from everything but it didn't hurt to talk really, as long as I kept it low. My body was not aching all the time any more, and while my throat still bore marks of the fateful night it didn't hurt as bad. This all being said I decided to go back to work. Reta fought long and hard with me on the subject, but in the end I won. I had always known I was as stubborn as a mule, and twice as ornery.

I had taken a great black and white checkered bandana I now newly owned and tied it around my neck, to cover the ugly bruises. Not that I was worried about people knowing, as everyone who ate at Reta's knew by now, as evident by the cards and flowers and food I had received in droves. It was more so that people didn't have to stare at the ugliness of them, and lose their appetite. Lord knows I still couldn't stomach much after looking at them in the mirror for too long so avoided it as much as possible. The worse part was that they were in the shape of two distinctive male hands, wrapped around my neck. I think that was what got to me, not their color mainly.

Bandana tied and strategically placed I futzed with the hem of my dress one more time, as seemed to be a daily habit with me as I still had not grown use to wearing a dress, I made my way out and down. It was time for me to get back into the swing of things before I withdrew too much.

The first week had been a little awkward, as all those that cared for me, all the regulars and even others finally had a chance to talk to me. They had all sent gifts and the like while I was holed away upstairs but now they took the time to verbally tell me their apologies and what have you. And while I appreciated it very much and whispered my thank you's it got to be a little overwhelming. But after the first week it had died down since everyone had finally been able to see that I was alright and trying to get back to normal.

In the two weeks that followed my first day back at work I avoided going to the cafe, and never really went anywhere on my own, not even the museum. It was odd having Ernie with me at all times, and luckily it was Sam who was sent with me on trips to the museum as Ernie would look a fright out of place amongst it all. And while the first week of it had been great and I had really felt the need to have someone with me so I wasn't alone, the second week of it was a little grating on the nerves. It was the beginning of what would be the third week of it and I needed to go to the library.

"Ernie, really I'll be okay now. I'm just going to the library," I pleaded, I felt like I was being smothered even though they were only trying to do good.

Too much good can also kill.

"And last time you were only going for a little coffee," Ernie replied back.

I sighed.

"Ernie it's been WELL over a month since that happened. I'm better now, I have Reta's ginormous sized pepper spray in my purse and everything," I said, sounding like I was trying to talk my dad into letting me go out unsupervised for the first time.

"I don't care," Ernie said, crossing his massive arms across his mammoth chest.

"Ernie please, I'm feeling suffocated. And if I can't do this on my own, well I'm not much healed then am I. I'll have my cell phone and will call if I don't feel okay, and wait right where I am till you get there. Please?" I asked, desperate to be alone.

"Fine. But you do just that. I want your cell phone in your pocket, not your bag," he said, pointing to my purse.

Nodding my head I pulled it out and placed it, keypad unlocked, into my hoodie pocket.

"Good?" I asked, hoping I could leave now.

Ernie simply nodded his head yes and turned to go back behind the counter, to finish up his kitchen work for the night. I sighed in relief and made my way out, I had books to return and I was in desperate need of more.

After the library I unconsciously made my way to my little cafe. It wasn't till I was inside and hearing the chime of the heavy Asian bells clonking behind me as the door closed that I realized where I was. I had slipped into autopilot mode, doing what I normally did after going to the library. With my escorts out I had avoided the place, but without anyone with me, all by myself, it was like nothing had happened. My body went about on it's own accord. Swallowing I went up and ordered a large froofy drink and two jelly filled crawlers. I took my doughnuts, forgoing one of their plastic bags and just holding the monsters in their paper sheaths, balanced on my hand, as I waited for my drink.

Drink in hand I nodded to the kid behind the counter and made my way out. As I got out onto the street I realized where I was going to have to walk past to get to the place I called home. I slowly shuffled my feet, forcing myself to place one foot in front of the other, taking me down the sidewalk, one painful step at a time. It seemed to take forever until I was at the place where it all happened and when I finally got there my feet froze in place. I couldn't walk past it. I just stood there, staring into the semi alley type area.

It took me a little bit to realize that my eyes had watered up with tears and it wasn't until I threw my coffee onto roughly where my attacker had taken me down that they broke and fell down my face. With the throw of my coffee came a yell of frustration, frustration at what had happened, the after affects, that I had been stupid enough to let it happen, that it had happened at all, that I hadn't paid more attention to my gut feeling that something was going to go wrong.

"Stupid, fucking, piece of shit," I swore repeatedly as I stomped on the small puddles of my coffee.

I yelled and screamed in frustration as I then threw my crawlers down one after the other with force and ground them into the ground, trying to deface the street like it had defaced something inside me. I took out everything that was penned up inside me out on that spot of street.

Finally after my tears stopped, and my sniffles calmed and I had finished grinding doughnut, granulated sugar and jelly filling into the broken gravel I just stood for a moment.

I sighed big and then lifted my head. I turned on my heel and walked on, no drag to my steps. I lit a cigarette from my bag and inhaled. I guess I had needed some type of closure. I felt better, less heavy inside. My voice was still a little gruff, but I knew it would pass in time, it would heal. I realized I had needed healing for my inside insides, for my heart and soul. I needed to put a stopper in it all and finally throw out the experience like last weeks garbage.

When I got home I threw my bag down and slipped into comfortable pajamas. I slipped in an old Ani Difranco CD and turned it up, there was no one else living by me so I was allowed my loud noise. Music blasting I went to my bed and plopped onto it, a new zeal found. I grabbed my journal and opened it to where I had last entered an entry, when we they had first left, I hadn't written in it the entire time since then. I didn't think I was ready to face the ugly facts in my own handwriting, knowing it would be hard to relive it. But now, now with the closure I felt it was time.

"I was attacked. Like so much meat in the wilderness. On the streets of the place I had come to think of as home. I was knocked out and almost strangled. I found the power to fight back. Barely. The song happy birthday saved my life. I bare my marks on the outside while I thought my inside had healed. I was wrong. It took stomping pools of coffee and grinding bits of sugar, doughnut and so much strawberry jelly into the broken remains of an alley to fully heal that. I defaced what had helped in the defacing of my pride and my being. Reta, Ernie and Sam brought me back to physical health one cooler brought upstairs with their tools of the trade, ice chips and lemon wedges, at a time. I lost contact with Jersey's voice and withdrew from her warmth, for she had turned on me. But once again I was proven wrong, Jersey is speaking to me now, strong, through helping hands and frozen peas. I have regained face."

Stopping my pen I looked down at what I had written. Re-reading it I sighed. It was good. Slowly I tossed my heavily chewed pen that was on the it's last leg into my drawer and then closed my journal and thoughtfully placed it in after it. I pushed the drawer closed and then pushed back the covers before crawling under and falling asleep. There was no longer any need to fear the dark of my mind, I had found peace.

Notes

Sometimes all you really need is a release of the penned up feelings inside you.
The greatest healing you can do is the healing you do yourself.