Still Ill
10:24 AM "You're okay."
There had been this video of him holding a kitten. The video was in black and white and silent. He had been wearing his good black peacoat.
It was all that I could think about as I felt the contorting of my body; the writhing, scratching, kicking, sobbing & screaming out. I had been restrained by two long lean arms that dragged me backwards so that I had no clue as to where I was going, only where I had been.
There was a sound emitted, a cry so ugly and pained that it couldn't have come from me-- except I had felt it from within my guts, lungs--throat.I struggled against the arms, clawing at them even after blood had formed in lines from the smooth skin.
The bloody arms lifted me over the ceramic edge of the tub and dropped me down to the cool tile, pinning me there with a hand and a leg as the faucet was switched.
I gasped at the sting of ice water as it showered down.
The body connected to the bloody arms crawled behind me and held me still.
"You're okay," Spencer whispered again, "You're okay."
In shock I shivered. I was aware. I was awake. I was dazed. I was-- there was this black and white video of Adrian holding a kitten. It was silent. He was wearing his good black peacoat and I--I was loud. I had screamed--LOUD when he looked at me and said that this was done. That he was done and I was done and I yelled,
"If you make me leave now, I won't come back!"
I won't come back.
He did the physical version of hanging up. He stared hard, a perplexed version of hurt that betrayed his saintly face, a sort of crying without tears-- then he walked away.
I won't come back.
I lunged forward and was caught by two long lean arms.
Spencer's blood went pink in the water. He shivered from cold, his clothes soaked through as he held me to him-- not to console but to keep me from further harming him or myself.
"I won't come back," I murmured.
"You're okay, Audrey."
Spencer pushed the wet hair from my face with his palm.
"He has a Burberry coat," I said.
"Who does?"
"Adrian. But he wore the black coat instead."
It was a video. He held a kitten. It was black and white and silent.
"I'll turn the water off," Spencer said. He leaned forward and it leaned us both forward. When he leaned back, it took us both with him.
I tried to exhale but it was released as a broken sob. Weak and pathetic.
"Ouch," I whimpered it with a hand held over my chest. My heart ached in such a way that it felt ready to fall free from my ribcage. "Ouch."
"You're okay."
"It hurts."
"I know."
"I'm crazy."
He chuckled, "Maybe a little."
"Why?"
"He's not thinking-- or he's thinking too much. I don't know. He's trying to protect everything from each other and itself-- which is impossible."
"Ouch."
Spencer rested a hand on top of my head.
"You will feel better, Audrey. You're okay."
"I hate this."
"Whether or not you choose to believe it, he does too."
"What happens next?"
I felt him shake his head against mine.
"I don't know."
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