Chapter Song: My Eyes - The Lumineers
XX
Isaac's bedroom is a dream world, an uncanny vision that I was never supposed to see again. He lets me finish the rest of the water bottle before he begins to strip away my clothes. I let him, careful to avoid revealing the contents of my jacket pocket or the mottled edge of my boot. When I have a chance, I'll have to melt the seam again. It feels stupid now, too dangerous, to have pried it out in the first place. What would Isaac do if he found out? He'd think I was trying to run again. Am I? I don't think I can, not now. I think, right now, in this moment, I have to work with what resources I have. And all I have is Isaac.
Even naked, the warmth of the school sends life thrumming back through my numb limbs. While the ache of thirst is beginning to subside, my bruised skull and broken nose still rock an ache between them, and the twin pain makes my stomach churn. I'm hungry and tired, and my body feels like it is made from soft clay rather than muscle and bone.
"What now?"
"That's for you to decide."
He's still pissed. I can feel the anger simmering around him, a tense energy in the thin air between us. Isaac leaves me alone in the bedroom to run hot water into the bathtub, and I realize that I am meant to follow him—that from this day forward I am meant to walk in his shadow. And if I remain within that shadow, if I stay small and keep quiet, he'll take care of me. It's a place that is meant for me now, when I don't have a place anywhere else.
"I'll be in the room if you need anything."
He keeps the bathroom door open, and I don't try to close it. Instead, I carefully lower my toes into the warm water, which sends a stabbing ache up through my ankle. Still, the sharp contrast of the warm water is better than the way my body slowly, painfully seemed to freeze in the confines of the cage.
"Layla."
I open my eyes, and Isaac is kneeling above me, one arm wrapped around my wet torso. My neck aches from the strange angle of the bathtub, and my head throbs and throbs.
"You passed out," he says quietly. "I didn't think you were going to wake up."
If only. To slip away like that without even realizing it would be so easy, so effortless. "How long was I out?"
"A couple minutes. How do you feel?"
It takes a moment to find the words, like my brain is sorting through my vocabulary a little slower. "Like shit."
He gradually lets go of me and sinks down against the wall beside the bathtub. "Vic can take a look at you when you're cleaned up."
"No, I just—please just let me rest a little while."
"Okay."
I stare at my feet poking out of the water on the far end of the bathtub. I suffered, and now I'm taking a fucking bath, all the while Sam is dead.
"I thought you were dead."
Glancing at Isaac, I find that he can't look at me either. "I thought you were going to let me die."
"I wouldn't."
"But you wanted me to believe you would."
"You don't listen, Layla. I just need you to listen to me."
"That isn't how relationships work," I whisper. "The moment I lost my footing with you, we didn't have a relationship anymore."
"What we have is different." The determined edge to his voice silences whatever words I'd prepared. "We live in a shit world, Layla. You want some kind of fairytale love? It doesn't exist for people like us."
"You hurt me."
"I love you. I care about you like I've never cared about anyone else, and you'd still want to run back to some guy who doesn't give a damn about you."
"I never said that."
"Then what is it that you want out of life?"
"I just—" My words end in a groan and I press my palms against my eyes as another stabbing pain makes me curl in on myself. "I don't know, Isaac. I don't know. I don't want to be afraid anymore."
"Then let me keep you safe."
"Maybe you're what I'm afraid of."
He pauses to search my face before a thin smile flickers on his lips. "Did you ever stop to think that's your own damn fault, Layla?"
"You killed Sam," I whisper, and Isaac grows very still. "You killed Sam, and you...you raped me—"
"I didn't fucking—"
"How can you say that? How can you—"
"Let me finish! Sam knew exactly what would happen if he tried to leave. We are strict here out of necessity—"
"Stop moralizing everything you do! Christ Isaac, I know you're not that stupid. Do you think I am?"
"Who's moralizing? I am telling you the way things are here, and you try to fit them to some moral framework from fucking Rust Cove."
The momentary bit of energy leaves my body, and I sink back into the bathwater and close my eyes.
"I can't forgive you for what you did to him."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Then what do you expect from me?"
"I'm expecting you to move on. Life goes on, Layla, and if you want to live in the past it'll only drag you behind it."
Only Isaac could tell me to move on two days after he murdered my friend. But as much as I hate the words, I understand the truth in them too. Living in the hatred won't get me anywhere here. It won't help me survive this.
"So what's it going to be? Are you going to fight me every moment of the day, or are you going to move on?"
"I don't know."
"Well you better fucking figure it out."
I close my eyes again and turn my head against the bathtub wall to relieve some of the pressure on my skull. I want to crawl out of my own body, to escape the ache and the hurt that comes from all around.
"Here."
When I turn to look, Isaac is holding a glass of water out to me, which I cautiously accept. I use the grip bar to pull myself into a sitting position, draining the water and handing the empty glass back to Isaac's waiting hand.
He's quiet while I finish washing my hair and body. It's taken this long to fully drive the chill from my bones, and I am afraid of what comes next after leaving the cooling bath. I don't have it in me to defy him or deceive him—we both know exactly what the other person is capable of now.
"I don't want to hurt you." Isaac doesn't look at me when I glance his way, staring instead at the floor ahead of him. "That night, I lost control."
"You lose control too easily." And it wasn't just that night.
"I know."
I don't expect the confession, or the earnest look on his face when he finally meets my gaze. "You do?"
"It's you, Layla. I don't know how to handle my feelings for you." He touches my shoulder when I look away. "You do something bad to me."
"That's not fair," I whisper.
"That's how it is." His hand is heavy on my shoulder, thumb stroking over and over my skin. "And if you hold it against me, you're going to make yourself miserable."
That logic again, that fucking logic. If only I could will away the hurt, the anger, he might be right. But it isn't up to me to undo what he did. Maybe my life, my sanity, depends on doing just that though. If I don't resist him, he won't hurt me.
"I'm ready to get out now," I say quietly. Isaac looks at me for a long moment before his hand falls away, and he stands to retrieve a clean towel from the cupboard. There are things that he does—wrapping the towel around me, keeping his hands near my elbows in case I faint—that speak to some innate decency in him that I know he has. I cling to these moments. I follow him into the bedroom and try to imagine a life in his shadow. When I don't resist, when I lean into Isaac's influence, it isn't so bad. There isn't freedom in it, but then, chasing freedom is what brought me here to begin with.
Maybe there's a curse after all. Maybe this is a lesson delivered by the gods. Maybe you deserve this.
"Here." He's offering a bundle of clothes, leggings and one of his flannel shirts. Holding them to my chest, I drag in a breath and try to hold my tears with it. But they spill over despite myself, and soon I just give into them. Isaac's hands smooth over my bare shoulders with a touch that is both gentle and assertive, like he understands the realization I'm coming to. When I lean into his chest, his arms close around me, one hand keeping me close while the other strokes my damp hair away from my face. "It's okay, Layla."
"Nothing is okay."
"It will be, don't worry." He kisses the top of my head and just continues soothing me with his hands. And maybe it's because my body remembers a time when he was good to me, or maybe it's because I've lost my defenses, but something in his touch begins to calm the racing of my heart. "I love you, Layla."
"Why?"
He doesn't answer at first, pressing his lips to my head as my tears eventually dry. "I just do. I knew it when I met you."
"And that's why...that's why all of this is happening."
Isaac is quiet, but his arms tighten around me. I press my face into his warm chest and breath in the smell of him. It's still a familiar, soothing smell, laundry detergent and leather and winter wind. "Yeah, Layla."
"What about Paul?"
His fingers stop traveling across my skin, and I don't miss the way his heart begins to beat a little faster.
"Paul."
"I saw his name in your phone, Isaac. I know you've been talking to him. And I think...I think that's who you've been meeting in town."
Isaac pulls away enough to search my face, his hand slipping up my cheek and into my hair as he frowns down at me. "How do you know that name?"
"I met him when I was working at the cafe." I don't like the way he's weighing my answer, the way his eyes are staring too hard at me.
"Describe him to me."
"He's...tall. Too tall. And his touch feels like death."
"What did he say to you?"
"He wanted to talk."
"And did you?"
"No."
"Layla, I need you to tell me exactly what he said to you."
"Nothing, I swear."
"Word for word. Tell me what he said."
He's still holding me gently, but a thrill of panic races up my spine at the way he's staring at me, how his jaw is tight with anger.
"He said he wanted to talk, that he had something to say to me I wouldn't want others to hear. He said...he said to give him a call if I got tired of running."
"Did you call him?"
"No! I haven't seen him since."
Isaac lets go of me to run a hand through his hair. He's surprised, and the realization makes me dizzy.
"I thought you knew. Those trappers knew him too, I thought you all knew."
"What?" His eyes grow a little darker. "I didn't know either of them until they turned up dead." He recognizes the look on my face and shakes his head. "I swear, Layla."
"Isaac," I whisper. "What exactly are you doing?"
"It's okay, Layla. It's okay."
"What does he want?"
"You don't have to worry about it."
"Is he why you're keeping me here?"
He pulls me close to him and kisses my forehead. "You don't have to worry," he says again. "I've got you, Layla."
And he does have me—and that's exactly what I'm afraid of.
XX
Last of the triple updates this weekend!
Isaac knows more about Paul than he's letting on, hmmm...
Stay safe and warm where you are <3 Finally headed home after a long-ass time being stranded.
Also in other news on my morning walk I met a 10/10 Shih Tzu who happened to be named Isaac.