The Terrors of Loneliness

The Terrors of Loneliness - Chapter 5

Hannah was unable to take her eyes away from Lucas’s skin.  Her fingers lightly traced the outline of the tattoo on his chest.  She recognised it instantly as “Ancient of Days”, William Blake’s depiction of God as an architect.  She’d never seen anything quite like it before and thought it was rather beautiful.  She could see that this was no ordinary tattoo.  It was a different colour from others she’d seen and it seemed blurred somehow.  Her eyes fell to his stomach.  She was oblivious to the intake of breath from Lucas as her hand brushed across his skin tracing the words “Gnothi Seauton”.  “Know Thyself” she said out loud without thinking. 

She took each of his arms gently in her hands and lightly touched each of the tattoos she found.  On his left arm was some writing that she thought was Russian but was unable to read.  Her heart was telling her that these had not been gotten out of some love of body art, but she still couldn’t take her eyes away from them. 

With her hands on his shoulders she turned him away from her and as her eyes fell on his back she gasped.  There were so many, of what she wasn’t sure.  She counted them, eight, and wondered if the number was significant.  Running her fingers over the words she found at the top of his spine she understood them immediately.  “Dum Spiro Spero” – “Whilst I breathe, I hope”. 

She turned him back to face her and looked into his eyes sensing a terrible sadness in them.  Not knowing what else to do she touched his face with her hand, stroking her thumb gently over his cheekbone; he closed his eyes and covered it with his own.

“I need to explain,” he whispered.

--

Lucas didn’t want to let go of Hannah’s hand and was once again biting back the urge to kiss her.  He’d struggled not to groan out loud as she’d lightly traced his tattoos with her fingers.  She had the gentlest of touches he thought.  These images indelibly marked on his skin sometimes made him feel dirty and she had examined them with such wonder he was almost afraid to tell her the truth but he knew that he would.  He wanted her to understand him; no, he wanted her to know him in the hope that maybe he could know her in return.

He took a deep breath, “I told you I work for the government didn’t I?”  Hannah nodded.  “Well I work for MI5.”

“You’re a spy?” Hannah raised her eyebrows.

“Yes I am.” He didn’t wait for Hannah to react.  “I was sent to Russia on an operation.  I was caught and imprisoned there.  These,” he indicated the tattoos, “were my souvenir.” He knew he sounded flippant and he closed his eyes trying to find the right way to explain it to her.

“I was in prison for eight years not knowing if I’d ever get out.  The cupolas on my back are a record of my time there.  The tattoos are part of the Russian prison culture.  They burn the heel of a shoe and urinate in the residue to form an ink.  Anything they can fashion into something sharp is used to apply it.”  Still holding Hannah’s hand he felt her shudder.  “I was tortured over and over again for information…just the loneliness would have been torture enough.”  He started to describe what they’d done to him and the terror he’d felt, a deep furrow appearing across his brow.

Lucas was back in his cell cowering in the corner, rocking himself back and forth, the stench of it filling his nostrils.  The pain returned to his body, the terror of it filling him with panic and the cold chilling his bones.

Suddenly he became aware of a feeling of warmth and peace.  Back in the present he opened his eyes to find that Hannah was kneeling next to him on the bed and had wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.  His head was resting on her shoulder and she had her lips pressed to his forehead.  He lifted his head and looking into her pale green eyes found them filled with tears.

“Some days are harder than others,” he said, “It’s the nights that are the worst.”

“When you’re alone?” she whispered questioningly.

He nodded.  His heart was still racing but now he wasn’t sure if it was because of the memories or because Hannah’s face seemed to be even closer to his now.  Their eyes were still locked and he didn’t think he could hold back any longer.  He wanted to kiss her so badly he didn’t believe any amount of torture could stop him.  He wanted her to kiss his demons away, to make him forget his nightmares.

His heart lurching, he bridged the tiny gap between them and brushed his lips lightly across Hannah’s, feeling hers gently part as he pulled away.  It was the lightest of kisses but to Lucas it was filled with hope.

--

Hannah was struggling to take it all in.  The tattoos, while strangely beautiful spoke of pain and suffering that she could barely comprehend.  Lucas’s description of his time in prison, though brief, had been heartbreaking and although she could never know what it was like, she understood terror and she understood loneliness.  Her heart had gone out to him and she’d been unable to stop herself taking him in her arms and holding him close.  She knew he’d actually told her very little but she sensed that he wasn’t used to sharing so she felt hugely flattered that he felt he could trust her.

Feeling his lips on hers had stopped time for Hannah.  She’d wanted that fleeting moment to go on forever but he’d pulled away and was now staring at her with those amazing blue eyes.

She took his hand in hers and lifting it to her lips, she kissed it.  “I think maybe we should both try and get some sleep.  It’s been an exhausting couple of days…at least it has for me.”

Lucas looked concerned, “Of course, you must be shattered.  The last thing you need is me keeping you up all night with my problems.”  He stood up, pulling his hand away.  “I can sleep on the sofa so you can get some rest.”

“No…” she blushed as he turned to look at her, embarrassed at the desperation in her voice.

“You don’t think you’d get more sleep alone?” he raised his eyebrows slightly.

She shook her head, “I rarely sleep…ever since my parents died I’ve had nightmares.  Sleep terrifies me.”  She bit her lip nervously.  “I’m sorry…that sounds so silly after what you’ve been through.”

Lucas crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his.  “It doesn’t sound silly at all.”

She smiled wearily.  “I think I should put some pyjamas on before I try and sleep again.  There are some old t-shirts in there if you want one,” she pointed at a drawer.  “They’re all men’s ones so they should fit you.”  Taking her night clothes from under her pillow she went into the bathroom to change. 

--

Lucas watched Hannah leave the room.  He was secretly relieved that she didn’t want him to sleep downstairs.  He didn’t want to be alone either.  Waking from a nightmare in his own home usually meant he’d go for a nocturnal run to try and escape his demons, but it never worked.  They always returned the next night.  He’d never spoken about them to anyone before and although he hadn’t told her very much, he felt like he’d opened a door and he desperately didn’t want it to close again.

He decided against wearing one of the t-shirts in the drawer and slipping off his socks and jeans, he climbed into Hannah’s bed.  She emerged from the bathroom a couple of minutes later wearing a pair of pale blue pyjama bottoms and a vest top.  Her face looked freshly scrubbed and as she slid under the covers next to him he could smell soap and toothpaste.  

She looked at him, “I haven’t thanked you have I?”

“Thanked me for what?” he brushed a stray curl away from her face.

“For saving my life…for today…for…” he silenced her with a kiss.  This time pressing his lips to hers and letting her softly kiss him back.  He allowed himself a small happy sigh as he pulled away.

“Now sleep,” he turned her away from him, pulling her into his arms and spooning behind her, his body curling protectively around hers.  He felt her take his hands in hers, entwining her fingers through his and his last thought before sleep claimed him was one of contentment.  Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.