Union

60.

Maria
Making Roel my home is the first mistake I made, you don't invite filth into your home so I can't go to him. He'll lie to me, say I'm not dirty when the proof is in my bag. Pills and leaflets, evidence of what can't be seen. My throat burns, more evidence burying me. The cough that leaves me stings but it's not from my lungs, it's my body confirming that Dr Hoxha got the test right. That sickness is really fucking there to remind me of everything I want to forget.
Cool glass touches my hand pulling me out of my thoughts, a bottle of water being pushed towards me as Alto drives. His focus is on the road making it easier to sit here while I want to bury myself in a hole and never come out. The cold water doesn't soothe the bacteria taunting me that the stain will always fucking be there but I stay relaxed on the outside.
People will believe what you show them, as long as I look unaffected there won't be any conversations forced on me. I can drown on my own without an audience and opinions I don't want or need. Then I'll lock myself away and the monsters can come out for me to do it all again the next day.
I regret not telling Alto to take me to the penthouse when he pulls into H's, Mara is stood outside already waiting so I can't tell him to turn around. There's no pity on her face, the sad smile is worse. Steeling my spine my muscles beg me not to move, the treacherous fibres can fuck themselves. It's my turn to ignore their protests and for them to fucking ache.
Mara doesn't see behind the facade and throws her arms around me, every part of me fucking screams to get off but she doesn't. I'm dirtying her with every second, turning the point of disease away so it doesn't touch her she finally lets go. Concern replaces sadness, and I don't know which one I hate more.
It's doubled as we walk inside and the family of my heart all look at me. Syzana the mother anyone wishes they had is the only one who can see my hidden plea shooing anyone way from touching me. "Leave the girl be, I feel suffocated just from watching you all." Francesca doesn't move filling with defiance until she gets the stern look only a mother can give and moves a step to the side.
Everyone's conversation is normal, it's almost forced. Their tongues swerving the questions piling up. A glass of wine if put in front of me but Dr Hoxha's warning about alcohol reducing effectiveness of the pills has me declining the urge to drown my thoughts back. A violent tug of war to see who kills each other first won't help but it's a fucking exciting premise.
Ajla's voice breaks through my fog, it's not the sound but the context that has me wanting to participate. "His stitches will keep popping and they'll get infected if he doesn't slow down. Luca said he's already done it once." There's a faint memory of seeing Roel's body, angry red marks with thread keeping him together but she won't be talking about him. I made it up to fit the lies I was told.
Working through each vague memory I'm trying to sort the real ones from the fake when its spelled out for me in Klea's eyes as she keeps looking between Ajla and me. Not letting my hammering heart show, my croak has the room turning silent and the temperature dripping. "Whose stitches?" Amber gives me a small smile but doesn't answer, Klea and Francesca doing the same leaving Ajla under my blank eyes. One name leaves her on a whisper. "Roel." She doesn't need to say more, he's hurt and I'll only keep hurting him.
Excusing myself from the crowd seeing whatever the fuck is going on with me, my steps are rigid until I'm locked in the bathroom. It's my new sanctuary, a room I have something in common with because it's the place everyone drops their filth without care. Roel is alive, stitches can be for anything. The stupid fog won't clear enough for me to remember the stitches. He's alive. One under his collar bone and one on his side. There wasn't any blood, but I can't trust my mind to give me the right details.
Going back to play pretend, H gestures towards his office giving me an opportunity to delay the crowd. Following him inside, there's a hesitant look on his face I've never seen before. "Are you sure you want this?" No. My answer is easy, I don't want to divorce Roel. I need to. "Yes. It was supposed to keep me safe and now it's not needed." The closest thing to guilt colours his criminal face at the bitterness in my voice and it's replaced with an argument he doesn't try and put across. I won't ruin Roel's life by making him stay attached to me, he means too much and deserves more.
Taking a deep breath H accepts and gives me what I need. "I'll have Jasper get everything drawn up. Have you chosen where you want to live?" There's no excitement telling him my plans, there never will be when I can't be with my home. "I'll travel until I find somewhere I like." What other choice does a person have when your person can't be with you but to run hoping that everything doesn't catch up.
Leaving him to do whatever he needs to give Roel his freedom, Syzana is waiting for me with a warm smile and a box in her hands. It's smaller than my palm as she gently places it into my hand. Stroking my arm she speaks with conviction like she's seen my soul and knows it's secrets. "You, brave girl, have the strength to stand. Don't forget that if you ever feel like you can't, there are people here ready to hold you up until it comes back."
Emotion clogs my sore throat and I wouldn't be able to have a response if it didn't. Choosing to ignore it, I focus on the velvet box and watch as the platinum shines. A St Agatha pendant has more emotion choking me and I'm glad because where the fuck was St Agatha to help me. Why have a Saint for the victim, to pray to asking them for help to ease the pain after it's already contaminated them. If they were so fucking good why wouldn't they intervene, stop the lives being tainted in the first place.
Saving Syzana from a bitter reply she doesn't deserve, Francesca moves down the hall and asks in her usual tone. "Want me to drive you home?" Fixing my slipped mask back in place, I nod following after her. She doesn't try to make conversation or she does and I'm ignoring her but the pendant, pills and leaflets are burning a hole where they shouldn't be. This should not be my life. I worked hard so I'd avoid this shit, destiny or fate is fake and I put in the fucking work so I no one would see me as weak or less. For what? All them years I sacrificed friendships, relationships or whatever else I thought gave people the power to hurt me just for it to be done by force.

Lloyd stops me as I'm walking into the building, his face is apologetic matching his tone. "I hope Mr Çami is recovering, if I knew that lady was upset because he was attacked I wouldn't have tried to stop her speaking to you." Giving him a tight smile I keep moving, there are loud questions and blurry answers swirling inside of my skull trying to fit themselves together at everyone's concern for Roel.
They get louder with each step until I'm inside the empty penthouse with no one there to answer them. Searching for myself, there's no documents anywhere. Old post piled together over the last month unopened and ignored. But nothing to say how badly Roel was hurt.

Left for dead.

The voices and faces I don't want scream above everything else. It was true, they thought he was dead and all of it was real. The realisation has me sinking physically and internally, the handle of the drawers digging into my spine tell me this isn't fake. It's not a nightmare. A bitter laugh hurts my throat and ears, my life is a nightmare. I wish my life was a nightmare, at least I could wake up from it.
Everything hurts, a bone deep ache that won't go away and then I shatter. My body convulsing from the force and my throat burns reminding me. Always fucking reminding me that it's there under my skin. It doesn't matter how much I scrub or how hot the water is, that burn will always be there. Dr Hoxha's assurances that it doesn't mean I'm unclean are bullshit, she doesn't know anything. She's not the person living with this shit in her DNA and with proof of it in her speech. She doesn't know what it's like to have a husband that loves to kiss you but will never be able to. I can never let him taste what chokes me.
Darkness covers the penthouse when I look up from my knees, even the moon passing on getting sight of me breaking apart. Controlling my breathing the air freezes as the door clicks open and two pairs of footsteps move closer. Pushing into the corner I don't let anything escape, not a sound or breath. My eyes close automatically knowing the walls won't save me, they'll keep hold of my back until I'm ripped away.
They keep moving, one heavy and dragging the other in full control of their steps. Hugging my knees and pushing my face into the bones I wait for hand to grab me. They're getting closer, near the entrance where I dropped my bag they'll know I'm here and drag me back into the place where my body betrays me. There's only two steps left.
Silence.
One pair of boots, not dragging their weight moves further away. No, it's worse when he's alone. He doesn't do it for his peers and his true sick fantasies come out. I want to beg the other man to come back, to give me the lesser of the two evils. The door clicks a beep telling me I'm locked with him and my scalp already burns knowing what's to come.
Tightening my eyes closed so there's nothing but darkness, my ears stay alert to the lack of sounds. It's a game, sadistic pleasure feeding off my fear and seeing me sullied. It's not real, I'm home waiting for Roel. He promised to come back to me. Jade eyes, dark blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and angel wings on his neck look back at me with love. Roel's going to come home and laugh at me being worried, he'll pretend to be insulted I thought he would lose. Jade eyes, dark blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and angel wings on his neck look back at me with love. He'll hold me all night and we'll wake up to do it all again tomorrow. Jade eyes, dark blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and angel wings on his neck look back at me with love.
My muscles loosen slightly, Roel's going to come home. He saved me from that place, it's not real. Jade eyes, dark blonde hair, sharp cheekbones and angel wings on his neck will look back at me with love and it will be real. He'll call me Angel and promise I'm safe, he'll promise me they're all dead and no one will get passed him.
My face relaxes and the moon decides I'm worthy of its reflection, the muted spot light showing a pair of boots and a whimper leaves me as they lift coming closer.