When will I turn to the last page of my life and read "the end"?
I woke up alone, facing a dim and cloudy sunset, covered in familiar gray sheets. The room was cold, how Chandler always kept it, and despite everything that I had gone through in this apartment, I felt a strange comfort. Hate and comfort don't seem to go together, but somehow, they did in this case. This bed had become the place I laid every night and woke up in every morning. These windows showed me the outside world and had become a view I saw every day, for hours at a time. They were constants. Consistency brought me comfort.
Chandler was a constant.
My head ached, and with the pain was an accompanying nausea. The fading light helped, allowing less strain on my eyes as I blearily blinked away tiredness. This was likely the result of a drug-induced sleep, which I concluded only lasted a few hours, enough to get back to New York before I was conscious. Why were we back though?
The energy to pursue thoughts like that was something I currently did not have, so I ignored those things and enjoyed the peace of silence and solitude. Chandler wasn't in the room, but the smell of pine and mahogany, the smell of him, surrounded me. He must have been in here recently, and went to the office or downstairs, since both the bathroom and closet were quiet.
Groaning as a lingering ray of sunlight made its way into my eyes, I turned over and hid my face in the edge of the soft pillow. It was then that I realized the scent of pine and mahogany wasn't coming from the air around, but from the pillow. I looked to the side and realized I was where Chandler usually slept, leaving my spot empty, but the covers were out of place. He always put me in my side, and while I didn't particularly care which side I was on, a bed is a bed, I found it unlike Chandler. He is a precise person, one for repetition.
When the last of the sun sank below the sky, I pulled myself from the bed, switching on the lamp. Cool air immediately hit my legs, which were bare. The shorts and top I had worn before were nowhere in sight, instead I only wore a white button-up shirt, none other than Chandler's, with nothing beneath except my underwear. I didn't like knowing I had been undressed when I was drugged, especially down to having my bra removed.
There was a long moment where I contemplated changing into something of my own that would cover far more, but there were several thoughts of warning that told me not to. The ice beneath me was incredibly thin, one wrong step and into the freezing water I would go, everything I've built following me to the depths. He changed me because he wanted to, and if I went and undid his actions, it would equal to disobeying him. The risk wasn't worth it.
I powered through the discomfort, thankful I at least had warm socks to shield me from the wooden floors, and reached for the door. Unlocked. It would be a lie if I said I wasn't almost entirely expecting it to be locked. First, I was left unrestrained, and now, the door was unlocked. This was odd, considering all I had done over the course of this unexpected day. If I asked, would he tell me his reasoning?
Maybe the punishment is coming later, I kept telling myself, refusing to be caught off guard when he finally decided to reprimand my behavior.
The office doors were locked, and after I knocked a few times, I concluded he wasn't in there. Going down stairs made no progress towards easing the throbbing headache, and instead made it worse every time I took a step. He drugged me just to take us back to New York, and to me, that seemed unnecessary. I wasn't going to make a big deal out of leaving Florida, especially after Nakoa made her attempt to run and I eagerly wanted to make mine. He could've asked me to put myself on that plane and I would have done it with no complaints, as long as Lucas stayed far away.
It was just as quiet down here as it was upstairs, only a little bit brighter because of the foyer light being switched on. Near the front door, the suitcases were lined along the wall, along with the other stuff we had brought with us, and I assumed Chandler decided he didn't feel like bringing anything else upstairs except for me. The rest of the apartment was dim and silent, my footsteps echoing about as I walked across the living room.
"Chandler?" I called out before I made it to the dining room, slowly beginning to realize I was likely the only person here. I thought maybe Stella could be around, but it soon became obvious I would have heard her a while ago if she were here. A longing feeling bloomed in my chest, soft and gradual, like a gentle hand gradually squeezing my heart. Why didn't I want to be alone anymore?
There was no response to my call, so I concluded I was alone. Fun. With a sigh, I walked through the dining room, running my finger over the backs of the chairs as I passed the table. The city lights illuminated parts of the room, standing in for the light fixtures which I made no effort to turn on. I wanted to stay in this melancholy darkness; in a way, it made me feel better.
A few steps later, I was in the kitchen filling a crystalline glass with water, hoping to find some relief from my headache. The nausea persisted, and for that, I wasn't sure what to do, so I left it alone, still finding the thought of eating revolting. Whether it was the contents of that needle or the stress of the past hours that left me with this feeling in my stomach, I wasn't sure, but I knew it was nearing the point of unbearable and there was a high chance it wouldn't stay in my stomach much longer.
Pulling out a dining room chair, I sat with my glass of water, taking small sips every few seconds. The pine and mahogany scent of Chandler still followed me, the result of his shirt, but it wasn't as strong as the bed. Admittedly, it was a pleasant smell, but if I were to catch wind of it after I found freedom, it seemed to be a panic attack waiting to happen. Just one more thing I've had ruined for my life.
Two more sips and I set the glass down, occupying my hands, and my mind, by carefully unravelling my braids, which had become quite messy after my induced sleep. They were difficult and knotted, getting caught on my fingers several times, and overall making me annoyed. Loose waves were the byproduct of my styling, but I was quick to tie it into a bun, feeling animosity towards my hair.
There was anger that had already settled within me, and my hair got to experience the first sparks of it. It was like that feeling when you're upset and everything does the opposite of what you want, so this rage starts burning and you want to scream, kick, throw, or do all three. Yeah, that's what I wanted to do to my hair. A bun was the safest place.
With a groan, of pain and anger, I pressed my forehead to the table, debating knocking it against the wood. What ended up stopping me was the thought of my making my headache worse, so I just let my heavy head rest on the cool wood and shut my eyes.
I had a lot to think about, but I didn't want to think of anything. I wanted to feel better before I went running through the specifics of my ploy to steal Chandler's keys, which I was dreading, and decided to put it off until tomorrow. One more day won't kill.
There was a noise in the foyer, like a quiet beep, which I wouldn't have heard if the apartment weren't so silent, followed by the door opening. What little energy I had left couldn't be bothered to be put to use, so I remained where I was; eyes shut and forehead to the wood, relying on my ears alone.
The door shut, and then there were footsteps, which stopped briefly in the living room before continuing toward me, and then they stopped again, right at my side. Cold fingers touched my neck, under the far side of my jaw, startling me into moving away and pressing my ear to my shoulder, hiding the area of skin he touched.
"What are you doing?" I asked defensively, turning to look up at him with a frown.
"Checking if you had fallen asleep at the table," he answered, appearing neutral for the most part, with a slight edge of coldness.
"By going to strangle me?"
He looked at me like I was crazy.
"No, I was feeling your heart rate."
He's the crazy one.
"Where were you?" I questioned, ignoring his strange ways. I'd confuse myself further by trying to understand him.
Chandler was dressed casually, and his hair was a bit messy, so I presumed he wasn't doing anything super important, but then again, I truly didn't know. Guessing can only tell me so much, if he chose to not answer me, I would be left with no knowledge. Truly, I did not know anything.
"I was taking care of some things; I didn't expect you to be awake before I got back." He touched a loose strand of hair from my bun with the hand that had touched my neck, twirling it over his finger before then walking past me and into the kitchen.
"Why did you drug me?" I followed him with my eyes, shifting to watch what he did, still skeptical of what was coming next. My stomach churned, the little bit of water I had doing nothing to prevent it. Anxiety now took over my body, deciding that his presence meant bad things were near, regardless of the logic behind it.
"To avoid dealing with you and Lucas fighting, among other reasons."
Other reasons being reasons he wouldn't tell me.
His back faced me as he rolled up his sleeves and opened the faucet, washing his hands. Normal actions. Normal actions amidst an abnormal conversation. I could take the glass beside me and throw it against his head, but what would that do. I doubted it was durable enough to knock him out, but it could make him bleed. If I did that, a punishment would be guaranteed.
"Did we leave because of Nakoa?" More words left my mouth before I could stop them, the nervousness getting to me, sure to cause damage.
"You're asking a lot of questions, Jess." His reply was stern, but not mean. If I said the wrong things though, it wouldn't be too long until an argument would erupt. That's just the way things worked between us. Well, I don't think "work" is the proper word for it, more like the way things occurred between us.
"I'm sorry," I said when he turned around to look back at me, eyes staring intimidatingly. "I'm just trying to understand the situation."
"Right now, your tone is sounding more like you're upset about something but don't want to say it." Chandler swiftly shut the water off and took the towel by the stove, drying his hands as he faced me fully and leaned against the counter. He stated his observations nonchalantly, talking as if this were normal. It would soon turn down a path I had tried to avoid.
"You wouldn't like it very much if I addressed that," I said while turning away, grabbing my glass of water and downing what was left in a last hope to calm down the pain my body bestowed upon me.
"You wouldn't be the first person to get on my nerves today and surely won't be the last, so if it'll make you feel better, just tell me."
I scoffed internally, just a little. Even if someone did it before me didn't mean I wanted to face his wrath as well. Too much happened today, and I suspected there was more than I knew. To add to the stress could easily overwhelm the both of us.
"No, it's not worth it." As I finished my sentence, I stood a bit too quickly, feeling it in my head, and then took my glass to the sink, leaving distance between myself and Chandler. He watched me with icy eyes, gray as the sky on a rainy day, arms crossed over his chest. Even with the cold and strict face, he looked attractive, as he almost always did, and I hated myself, despised myself, for taking notice of it. Thoughts like that don't work and neither do they belong.
"You're going to have an attitude regardless, it's better if you just tell me."
"I don't want to make today worse by arguing."
"And you think refusing me makes it any better?"
A deep sigh left me, hands running over my neck and shoulders, relieving tension.
"Fine," I exasperated, standing straight and meeting his eyes. "Do you not trust me anymore? Because we had been doing so great for the last week, and now it feels like things are rewinding."
At that moment, I didn't realize exactly what I had said. There was never a point where he explicitly said that he had any sort of trust in me, I was basing my reasoning off of his actions, and with how unpredictable he is, I don't think that's reason enough for me to have said so confidently that he once trusted me. There were still days where I had breakdowns for an hour or started arguments for the sake of starting arguments.
If I had to say it honestly, I don't think I gave Chandler any reason to put trust in me, I just got lucky.
"What is making you feel like I don't trust you?" He did the head tilt, a shadow of a curious smile dawning on his lips.
"You handcuffed me to the bed and drugged me! I thought we were past that. If you said we were leaving I wouldn't have given you any trouble, I would've just gone, and now I have a fucking migraine because of it."
Was I mad over a headache? Possibly. There was unfounded anger within me, and wherever I felt like directing it was where it would go.
"Let's not forget that you weren't handcuffed when I came back, and you were outside helping Nakoa."
There was hardly a second of time between his sentence ending and my words beginning.
"I came back! Does that not count for anything? I could have run with her, but I chose to come back."
Angry trembles overtook my body as my head throbbed rapidly alongside my raising heartbeat.
"I left you on the bed unrestrained, didn't I? The bedroom door was left unlocked even though I wasn't home, and you were alone. There's a reason you didn't get punished, Jess, did you realize that?"
Infuriation. That's what I felt. There was no root for it, and I wondered if this was what Nakoa experienced when her mood suddenly changed. The emotional turmoil I put myself through only to be told he wasn't going to do anything about what happened. I should be happy, right? But I was angry, perhaps more so at myself, that I had freaked out for no reason at all.
"If you have a headache, it's not because of that," he said after a few moments of silence, noticing I had nothing to say about his previous question. I'm still asking myself who is the stupid one, and I'm starting to think it might be me.
"How are you going to tell me why my head hurts?" At this point, I was looking for a reason to be mad at him, and in truth, I never needed a reason. Everything he has done amounts to more than enough reason to forever be mad and hold it against me. It doesn't matter if he was nice to me, he had all the blame for ruining my life.
"I hardly gave you anything, you shouldn't have a headache." He stepped forward, reaching his palm to my forehead, feeling for any heat. Concern is what I saw on his face now.
"Maybe you need to eat, are you hungry?" I frowned, wrapping my hand around his wrist and cautiously pulling it away from my head.
"The thought of food makes me want to throw up," I grumbled and crossed my arms, mimicking him, as a shiver ran through me. Being cold was not a good idea considering my lack of a bra.
Looking at the clock, I saw it was nearing eight, around the time we usually ate dinner, but I couldn't bring myself to feel any hunger, my stomach still twisting in painful ways. It was a sensation similar to period cramps, except I felt it in a lot more areas than my uterus. Stupid fucking headache didn't make it any better. I'll blame the drug all I want, thank you very much, Chandler.
"Chandler, I'm asking another question," I warned him, triggering a slight chuckle in response.
"Go ahead."
"Why were you mad when you came back with Lucas if it weren't because of me, and why were you mad when you came back now?"
Before he answered, he gently grabbed one of my hands, releasing them from my chest, and interlocked his fingers with mine. We began walking through the dim apartment, toward the stairs. I stared at the back of his head, at the nearly-black soft waves of his hair. It had gotten slightly longer in comparison to the length of it a month ago, and when he had it natural like now, it gave him a softer appearance. Although we were both light in color, Chandler's skin leaned towards the olive side, like he could seriously tan if he were out in the sun, and I wondered where he was from ethnically.
"There's a lot going on with work, that's why we came back early, and to say it is stressful might be an understatement."
"Is it because of that Lorenzo guy?" I asked inquisitively.
"Partially, but there's some other stuff as well," he said, leading us into the bedroom, the lamp I turned on earlier still illuminating the space.
I took about three steps into the room before I felt my stomach completely turn, my head starting to spin. Quickly, I pulled my hand free from Chandler's, making haste to the bathroom as fast as I could. The second I made it to the toilet, I heaved all there was in my stomach, which wasn't very much.
Unwarranted tears streamed from my eyes as I breathed heavily, feeling no better than I did a minute before. Chandler was beside me, one hand over my back rubbing soothing circles. More bile came up, and after the second round, my stomach decided it was done.
"Jess, do you think—"
"No, don't say it," I stated sternly, flushing the toilet and standing, Chandler following.
"It's possible."
Rinsing my mouth, I wiped the forceful tears away, and looked at Chandler through the mirror.
"No," I repeated, refusing to accept that as a possibility.
He took my forearm, turning me to face him and put both hands on either side of my cheeks. "Jess, I don't want that any more than you do, but we had sex, even with protection it could have happened."
"No," I said one last time, tears caused by fear replacing the ones caused by lack of oxygen. My reality would not turn into this. This would not happen. I didn't deserve this. The world cannot expect me to survive through all I am given, it's not fair. Devastated, I pushed my head into Chandler's chest, allowing his arms to pull me close. Disbelief.
"I can't be pregnant."
....
Yeah, yeah, you all hate cliffhangers, sorry not sorry, I like to be dramatic.
If you think these chapters are slow, focus on the dynamic between Jess and Chandler and what their relationship has come to. That's important to understand before we move onto other things.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I did. <3
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