No One But Me

Chapter 11 - Return To Ruin

How he wished he could have taken you in his arms and held you tightly, confessing how he missed everything about you, from the smell of your skin to the ribbons you wore in your hair, the absent-minded way you'd chew the end of a pencil when you were deep in thought, your never ending patience when helping someone find a book they were in search of.

Do you miss him? Even a little?

Oscar cards his fingers through his curly hair and sighs. He feels pathetic pining for something he isn't even sure is reciprocated, an affinity on his behalf that could just be a superficial friendship to you. But no, that can't be right, not when he's been witness to your tears and emotions, not when he's held you in his arms like your body pressed against him is the most natural thing in the world.

Oscar watches the snow fall and thinks of Elvie and what he told you when Maude had died; "We owe it to them to continue living. To live as best as we can to allow ourselves happiness and love."

Oscar closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The echo of his own words in his mind grant him consolation. When he exhales and opens his eyes once more, Oscar feels the warm rush of clarity from within his heart. He vows to be bold, more courageous. He vows to no longer hide away from his feelings, to allow himself happiness and love.

••••••

Joel stood in the small space of his closet, the white shoebox balanced in his hand while he sifted through its contents with the other. He peeked into the envelope and counted the tablets safely nestled at the bottom. Still all there. His emergency stash. For any 'just in case' incidents.

He shuffled out of the closet and over to the bed with the box. He's had a hidden chest of goods for quite a while now, very gradually adding items as he discreetly procures them from scavenging expeditions and the seized bounty of defeated raiders. Things he viewed as necessities for survival, like a couple of small handguns, stacks of ammunition, a hunting knife, rope, and duct tape.

But when Joel and you had first begun seeing each other, he knew he needed a box specifically for you; a place to keep mementos and sacred things of you safe. Like the pretty gold necklace he had found six months ago during a supply run, the pendant he had been waiting to gift you at the right moment. Beside it sat the pink ribbon he stole from your cottage, as well as a pair of your dirty underwear that he managed to pilfer.

Joel's fingers skim over the simple soft cotton material of your panties with a kind of reverence. He reflects on the last couple of weeks with you as the thick pads of his fingertips caress your underwear.

Things had been going a whole lot better than he expected, Joel mused to himself. It had been easier than he initially thought, coaxing you back into his strong arms and his salivating jaws like a weak little lamb. You seemed to slot back into his embrace so easily, easily enough that it solidified Joel's belief that you needed him. That you were destined to be his.

Joel did not ascribe to any religion. He had lost faith in any kind of God long before Sarah had died. He did not believe in concepts like karma or reincarnation. But what he did believe in to some degree was destiny, and Joel believed that you were destined to belong to him. From the very first moment he laid eyes upon you, he knew you must be his.

Joel was well aware of his obsession for control and domination over the things he cared about. He knew the driving force behind this preoccupation was the debilitating fear of losing what (or who) was precious to him. The crux of it all was that Joel was incapable of admitting just how fiercely he loved; as a result, his efforts to protect and preserve were over zealous and ruthless. It was easier for Joel to capture and cage you, to deprive you of the freedom to roam this dangerous world, than to stand by your side and navigate it with you.