I posted a part just to be able to say "It's my birthday!"-- the day before Yesterday. Because again, I refuse to post something I wasn't satisfied with.
So enjoy!
Chapter 36
Children
Zachary leaned back on the tiled wall of our bathroom. His arms wrapped around me tighter. I was shaking, those memories pointing--drilling--fingers into my bloody guilt. They wouldn't stop. A messed up replay that went beyond one sense to the others. I could still hear the noise, smell that repulsive mix, see those men... That married stranger. Seth.
And feel. Of all things, I could still feel it. Every damning moment of it burying me deeper and deeper into condemnation. And worse was only coming to even worse. I felt tied down by the ankles with iron chains, while the chittering devils slowly dragged me down to the depths of hell with menacing curves on their malicious lips... as if they were merely waiting for me to join them.
My hands automatically clutched onto the shirted chest as if to prevent my demons from finally taking me. My sanity was dissipating at an alarming rate. Maddening, maddening, maddening. To the point that while my senses were opened up to those past scenes, it was closed off to Zachary. The rubs on my back and those comforting murmurs bouncing off uselessly.
And what did I feel instead? I felt those hands on my body as if that stranger was still beside me. That touch invoking repulsed shivers like cockroaches crawling all over my skin. My lips, my tongue still retained the tang of alcohol and that of another man's mouth. Worms, as if I'd taken a mouthful of it. I was drowning in those feelings. Hell, pure utter hell in the land of the living.
Dirty. I felt dirty. Like continuous maligning whispers over the skin that I couldn't do away with. Like guilt and shame exploded over my sense of touch. Like an itch that wouldn't go away... like an itch.
My eyes widened as a desperate idea came to mind. I bolted upright in a second, my gaze fixed on the exposed skin of my pale arms and I knew what I had to do. Fingernails purposefully dug into my own arms.
"No, you don--"
And I started scratching hard. The first swipe felt like my skin catching fire and pain felt good, welcome. It encouraged the second deeper swipe but before I got to the third, strong hands locked onto my wrists, pulling them apart.
"What do you think you're doing?" He asked sharply.
I barely heard the words as I wriggled out of those hands to no avail. The relief that I'd just found quickly ripped away and I panicked. My vision blurred with new tears as I looked up to the man in front of me. "No! Let me go! I have to--"
"No, you don't," his expression hardened, of no mercy for my plea. Zachary firmly held my eyes and his tone underlied anger. "You're hurting yourself. Do you see this?"
He pulled me by the wrists, raising my arms to my sight. Raised angry red marks greeted me, blood dotting the deeper scratches. As I stared, the throbbing registered in my brain.
Pain was good. No, it was great, a thousand times better and I would welcome it again and again. But looking at Zach, I knew he'd disagree. I tried pulling at my arms again but he wouldn't budge. With irritating ease, he pinned my hand to his sides, effectively stopping further movement.
The first tear of frustration fell. "You don't understand!" I blubbered, "let me go!"
"No," that was all he said. I started trashing in his grip but he was like a statue I couldn't budge. No sign of strain as he looked down at me. It was as if he was decifering my thoughts. I knew he wanted to know and that clawed at my conscience. I couldn't tell him that. No.
"You don't understand!" Was all I could say. I was lost for words, unwillingness and shame trapping it all at the back of my throat.
Zach's expression only became determined, his hold like steel clamps over my wrists. "Then make me understand because I'm not letting you hurt yourself. Not anymore."
My heart cracked at that. The dam letting loose not just the tears but all the bravery, the hope that I had for the situation I was in.
I shook my head, closing my eyes because I didn't want to look at him. "N-no, I can't." I tried pushing away from him without effect.
He squeezed my wrists, and when he spoke, his tone had quieted. "I promised you I'm here for you. I'm here. And I want to help you. But you have to tell me what the problem is. I can't fight an enemy I have no idea about."
That's the thing! I wanted to tell him. Why? Why would he want to help me? It didn't make sense no matter how I looked. This approach, his words, his actions didn't make sense! It merely fed the guilt and anguish I felt for all those memories. Why was this kind of care painful? Why was inexplicable kindness scary? And why was it that the part of my brain that said I didn't deserve both from him wanted him to stay that way anyway?
He already knew. Somewhere deep in the deep recesses of my broken mind, I just believed it. Zach already knew.
A sob escaped. "Don't I disgust you, Zach?"
His eyes widened at my words, his fingers loosening momentarily as if from surprise. But quickly they tightened again, shaking me once. "What the hell are you talking about, Red?"
Even with the tears streaming down my face, I had the sudden urge to laugh. What did he and did he not know? I tried for a smile at that thought. My lips wobbled too much to retain any decent kind of expression. I opened my lips but somehow I couldn't form words at that moment.
In those rare shows of impatience, Zach's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not letting this go, Red. You're going to tell me either way so--"
My eyes squeezed shut. "I can still feel it, okay?! It still feels so real!" I cried out finally. I heaved a sob, glaring at him through nonstop tears.
Confusion clouded his face, "Feel what?"
"That stranger!" The laughter caught in my throat finally made itself known. But mixed with the tears and the sobs, it came out crazed and ugly and there was really no way to tell the sounds I was making. "That stranger, Zach! I could still feel him touching me. On my skin, my legs... and--and I was enjoying it! Know the worst part about it? I knew he was married, I knew we both were and I still welcomed his advances." I hear my voice get angrier, more frustrated with every word. I eyed his expression then and smiled bitterly. "who does that?"
I found I couldn't meet his eyes for long and my head bowed. "Now tell me, Zachary. Aren't you disgusted yet? I don't get how you could stay knowing all that. I-I know I wouldn't accept you if the roles were reversed... never."
We were left in silence. Torturing silence. I didn't have to look at him to feel him withdrawing from me. Funny how it hurt that he did. Funny how I knew this was the normal reaction but I was disappointed. And the coward that I was, I couldn't stand this. I removed my hands from his loose hold, and shakily started to stand up.
His hand quickly shot up to grab my left hand. The sight of his and mine joined together made me stop. Zachary planted his other hand against the wall behind him and pulled himself to his full height. Reluctantly, I had to look up.
Zachary's stare was intent. His voice tired, "then I'm glad I'm not you."
My mouth hung open and again we were thrust into silence. His fingers slipped between mine in a firm twine. The bands on my ring finger glinted in the light.
"You asked me if before if I'm tired, embarassed and now... disgusted by you? Is there anything else you'd want to add to that list? Anything else you'd want to accuse me of, Red?"
My eyes widened at his sudden insinuation. "I-I'm not accusing--"
He shook his head, his voice was tight. "No, you listen to me now. The answer is no. Never. I'm not embarrassed, not tired, not disgusted. I don't know what it is that I did to ever make you believe that." And lifting his hand to my face, he looked at me imploringly. "Screw the past. I want you to see what you're doing right now because you can't keep doing this, Red. You can't lash out at me at every turn. I'm not the enemy here, if anything it is the situation. I want to help you. Do you understand that?"
I did. I really did. But then I remember all those wrong things I'd done and my head started shaking. "I can't promise that."
"And I promised I'd help you remember," Zach reminded me firmly. "But you have to help me in return, Red. This isn't something I could do alone. You tried that and you should know by now it doesn't work well. We're supposed to be a team here... We're supposed to be partners, you and I."
A team. Partners.
Something about the last part twitched in my head. As if some old, rusty wheel started to creak. And before I knew it, the memory played.
Same blue eyes but in the face of a boy. He was smiling from ear to ear, squinting in the semi-dark tool shed behind the mansion. He was holding out a hand to me.
"So what about it? I'll help you with your homework but you'll have to draw for me."
The younger me eyed the offered hand with feeling akin to distrust. I chewed on my lip. I didn't know him well enough, and I was almost sure I didn't like him. The thought of my dad praising this boy's achievements gripped me with feelings of envy. But the thought of painting again made my fingers twitch on my sides.
I blinked up worriedly into that carefree face, "Daddy confiscated my art supplies. I'm not allowed to paint because it takes time away from studying."
Zach nodded confidently,"that's why I suggested I help with your assignments. I'll tutor you."
"But still--"
"I'll buy your art supplies. A complete set of paintbrushes." He continued to bribe with a conspiratorial whisper, "your dad doesn't have to find out. And if anyone asks, I'll tell them the supplies are mine."
Just the thought of getting my things back... it made me want to junp with joy. I worried my bottom lip, blinking up at him. "I want pencil colors too... but promise me daddy won't find out."
"Is that a deal? Good." He grinned, taking my hand from my side and shaking it, "We're partners then. You and I. I look forward to working with you."
I humphed. "I don't really understand why you want to... partner with me."
He shrugged, "you're pretty... pretty good at arts and I'm jealous."
Somehow, the idea that he was jealous of ke made me a little glad. He admitted I had something that I was better at than he was and I couldn't help but smile, "okay then."
I swayed, my free hand clutching at my head.
"Red?" Zachary already was steadying me with an arm around my waist.
The memory spun in my head and I had to breathe in and out a few times. I looked up into those blue eyes, now in a man's face. "Y-you've said something like that before... when we were younger."
Zach stopped. He didn't answer at once. Instead, he led me to sit on the closed toilet seat and his focus shifted to my bleeding arms, he stood up and rumaged throught the cupboards we had there. Zach produced a medical kit before kneeling down in front of me. He took one hand, pulling it to him to inspect the scratches I had.
"I'm right... right? We were kids then. We made a deal." There was nothing particularly wrong with that memory but my head still spun. And when I looked at Zachary's face... something told me otherwise. "Was I wrong?"
The sudden cloud in his expression didn't dissipate but he carefully watched my face. "That was quite some time ago."
"But it did happen?" I asked, trying to make out his expression.
"It did," he admitted slowly, flicking blue eyes on me for a second. "But I'm honestly surprised you remember. You didn't when me met again the last time."
I blanked at that. "I thought we knew each other since childhood."
Zach, with one hand, flipped the lid of the kit and picked up a tube of antiseptic. "We did. But we were separated for quite a while. And you've forgotten about me."
I frowned at the sting of the antiseptic he applied. I watched his face though, "How long are we talking about?"
Zach paused before answering. "Twelve? You were turning thirteen when I left the city."
"Twelve what?" Something about that was rubbing me the wrong way. My mind whirred in calculation. "When exactly did we meet again?"
Zachary stiffened before taking away his eyes from what he was doing. His gaze steadily held mine, "Sixteen months ago."
And we were married a year ago.
I bit my lip, holding the flow of questions. Zach waited before dabbing the cream over the last of my cuts.
"No questions?" Zach asked in a light tone. I didn't know what to say, really. He searched my face . My head was feeling pricks from that last flashback and I knew not what the right answer was. He still kneeled in front of me as he stared at my face. "I've been thinking of how I'm supposed to help you remember," he finally admitted.
My thoughts already running through his latest revelation, I swallowed. "And?"
He stopped, hesitating. "It's common enough tactic to solve a problem from the root..." His expression obviously showed he didn't want to continue but he looked up at me, "and I think... my guess is that this problem started inside that house."
My heart started beating fast. "What house are you talking about."
Zach was quiet for a moment, forming words. "Our house. The mansion we've been living in before the accident happened... I think everything started from there."
He twisted the cap unto the antiseptic tube before tossing it back into the medical kit. Then he turned to me again.
As I let his words play in my mind, I realized an admission in that statement. He was aware, he was admitting something wrong happened and maybe even with our relationship. My voice came out small. "And what do you want to do?"
"Let's go back," Zach closed his eyes for a moment, "let's go back to our house. What do you think?"
Mara was the first one to let slip the information about the mansion. And Zachary had admitted to buying us a house in the suburbs before we had gotten married.
But something bothered me about the way he phrases his words. A mansion. A house. A place we've lived in in the last year...
But he never called it a home.
Was it not?
And if it wasn't home for him, how about for me?
In this whole fiasco, did I actually have a place called home?
"Okay, let's... go back."
Surprised?
#10 in Romance as of 3/13/19 (my birthday)
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