[I roll the window down
And then begin to breathe in
The darkest country road
And the strong scent of evergreen
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home ♫ ]
The wind came rushing through the window, attacking my once warm body. The cool, crisp air formed goosebumps on my pale skin. My lips were icicles, clinging to my blushing face, their frozen corners turning upwards into a toothy grin. I had the world at my fingertips, I finally wasn't afraid anymore.
It had been a couple of months since the incident. I'd never quite forget the pools of blood the circulated around the doctor's foot as he hacked through it. Or the dead body that was casually strewn across the floor, haunting my every movement. Never would I forget that traumatising game of life and death or the way the odds were against us. I'd never forget the ticking clock, the cigarette, the glances of terror from him across the room. The stink would never leave my bones, nor would the tension or my cruel murder of a cruel man.
No, it was something that'd always linger with me.
But I survived. Thanks to my rescuer.
After Lawrence had gripped my bloody shirt as we cried into each other and after he crawled out of that prehistoric bathroom without me I had passed out. It was most likely from the shock of the horrifying events that occurred in the past five minutes.
I don't know how long I was unconscious, but when I woke up I wasn't there anymore. My joints were still stiff and my head was pounding, but I was in a completely different environment. I was in a clean, rose smelling hospital in a comfortable bed with IVs prodding my skin. The bullet Lawrence pierced my body with had been removed and the wound patched up. Suddenly everything was going to be okay.
Yet I didn't know who saved me, who redeemed me from certain death. I had gone home soon after that... But that's when the nightmares began. The blood-curdling screams in the middle of the night would wake my neighbours and attract them to call the police. The images that blurred in my dreams were things that made me jump out of bed so fast and grab the nearest knife in fear of them coming into reality. Eventually the cops told me I should get counselling, maybe some form of medication to ease my sleeping experience.
So, as much as I hated it, I seeked help in a complete stranger. They asked me to go into depth of my jigsaw experience and then of some reoccurring nightmares. They also asked me if I had any dreams lately, good ones that didn't make me ache all over. They discovered all my happy thoughts and dreams revolved ironically around the one person in particular who experienced the horror with me. Doctor Lawrence Gordon. The one who shot me, the one who wouldn't lie to me, the one I stared at from across the bathroom for hours praying we'd get out alive. My counsellor asked me if I'd contacted him since and I glumly shook my head. I didn't know how, or where to search for him. The hospital said he'd be taking leave for a couple of months just to calm himself down and they told me his details were confidential.
After a couple of weeks my counsellor surprised me, they had discovered what Lawrence's mobile number was. They told me upon meeting a loved one at the hospital, she found a tray of business cards and luckily one of them had Lawrence's name and number smeared across it.
That was my happiest day since the trap. I could finally talk to someone who knew what I was going through, who might be able to help me.
That night I called him, I was nervous and I didn't want to come off as needy. He had answered with a somber 'hello' and I gulped.
'Doctor Gordon, right?'
'Adam?' He had recognised my voice straight away. I thought maybe the trauma would've made him forget what I sounded like, but he knew. Oh he knew. I ended up in tears after he said my name and he tried to calm me down. I confessed my feelings of fear and hopelessness and all my nightmares and how I was getting therapy. He went on to tell me he and his wife divorced, that he wasn't allowed near his daughter anymore and was diagnosed with depression.
All this had happened to us in the three months after our experience.
He wanted to meet up with me, he said as strange as it was, he felt my presence might be therapeutic to him. I agreed, in hope his would be the case.
We met up at a small cafe and I didn't realise how much it missed him until I saw his face light up when I walked over. We awkwardly hugged which made me sigh with relief. I sat down and we discussed topics that had been on our minds.
We continued these meets once every week at the same place. And it was very therapeutic. He had tried to call me every Sunday as well, we had become quite accustom to each other voices.
Eventually the days I didn't see or hear from him made me feel sick. I was getting horrible anxiety and the nightmares were slowly drifting back. At one of our meets, I asked if we could call on a daily basis and he didn't even hesitate to agree.
There wasn't even anything to talk about on the phone, but just knowing he was on the other end of the phone gave me some sense of security. The nightmares stopped.
One night he asked me to stay at his house one night. We'd watch a movie, have a couple of beers and just overall relax. I told him it sounded perfect.
So on that Friday, I went to his house. I was nervous and I didn't even know why. He was my best friend, and he understood me better than anyone else in the world. But standing outside his front door, my raven hair a mess, my button up shirt undone to reveal a white tee, my palms began to sweat. Yet when he opened the door and our eyes connected, my insecurities melted away and he made me feel safe.
Instead of watching the movie I found myself watching him. He didn't notice the way I scanned him, the way I looked over his matted blond hair or his chubby cheeks, the way I stared at him as he chuckled or smiled widely at a joke.
After the movie we played a bit of trivia to waste time and I adored the way he was so competitive, I almost regretted kicking his ass.
It was getting late so he set me up on the couch, turning the lights off. Just as he was leaving for his bedroom, I called out his name and he snapped his head back.
'Yeah?'
I gulped, I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I felt I was hiding something from him that i didn't even understand.
'Goodnight' I wanted to hit myself.
'Goodnight, Adam' He sighed and left the room.
Blood, so much blood. I remembered the thrusting of the ceramic block and the force against his beaten face. The blood on my hands grew and suddenly I was screaming. I had a nightmare, the worst one yet and I was yelping loudly into the night. I was awoken by two hands violently shaking me and my eyes opened to his worried face.
'Adam! Adam, please' Lawrence cried. I grabbed hold of one of his hands, sitting up slightly. 'Oh, thank god. You had me so worried'
'Hold me'
His arms dug under my back and he lifted me up from the couch. My arms flung around his neck as he carried me out of the room. He took me into his bedroom, lying me down on the mattress. I began silently sobbing as he slid in behind me, cuddling me and just holding me tightly.
That was the night I realised I had fallen in love with him. That was the night I realised he had saved me from the bathroom.
[Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
From the passenger seat as you are driving me home
"Do they collide?"
I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash
The world doesn't matter ♫ ]
Mine and Lawrence's relationship grew with time. Soon I was spending more and more nights with him. He cuddled me throughout each night and whispered reassuring things into my ear. One night he leant in really close and whispered
'Darling, please stop crying. I'm here now. I'll always be here' and he gently kissed my jawline. I slept like a baby.
He realised quickly that it made me sleep better and continued to kiss my jaw every night I spent with him.
Then it became more than just my jaw, he was then kissing my ear, my neck, my shoulder, my cheek. Anywhere that made me sleep sounder and forget the nightmares. His hands stopped holding my stomach and held my waists, my thighs... Every night at his apartment made me feel alive.
Until I needed more. We had a routine. We'd brush our teeth, hop into bed, he'd tell me it'd be okay, we'd cuddle and he'd kiss me somewhere. One night when he did, I turned around in his arms. He frowned at me as I placed my hand behind his neck, the other on his blushing cheek.
'Say it again'
'It'll all be okay'
'Properly'
'I'm here now, he's not going to get you. I'll always be here to protect you. It's going to be okay, darling'
Without hesitation I let my pink lips wrap around his thick ones. His hands quickly found the small of my back as we stayed kissing for a while.
Each visit our relationship progressed. From kisses, to French kisses, to making out, to travelling hands, to teasing, to handjobs, to blowjobs, to actual sex. We spent days rugged up in bed together, ordering Chinese food and watching crappy sitcoms. Other days down to our underwear, cooking, dancing and laughing. Other days going to work, coming home to kisses and surprise presents.
We were happy.
We were safe.
But we never said those words we both knew defined the relationship. We could never admit it although our actions already did. Despite our lifestyle, we just couldn't look each other in the eyes and tell each other how head over heels in love we were.
I thought that this weekend he would've opened up to me about it. I would've happily reciprocated.
He invited me up to his holiday house for the entire weekend. It was nothing but sex, binge eating and going to the beach. We had long romantic walks, holding hands under the moonlight. At one point we skinny dipped and I swear he was going to tell me it then, in the water as we embraced. But no such luck.
Now he's driving me back to my apartment, not his. I hated when he did that. We spent pretty much everyday at his apartment, only rarely he requested to be alone.
I didn't care though. The universe was bowing down to me tonight, ecstasy consumed me.
[When you feel embarrassed then i'll be your pride
When you need directions then i'll be the guide
For all time. ♫ ]
We drove in silence until eventually we arrived at the grey block of apartments where I lived. He pulled up in the parking lot and I looked at him. He was just as beautiful as the day I first saw him after the incident. Our eyes connected, his glistening, holding that unique sparkle of his. I smiled at him, licking my dry cracked lips. Everything around us blurred, the centre of my world becoming him. My Doctor Lawrence Gordon, my everything.
Without a word he leant in and kissed my desperate lips, his hands finding my hair. I took hold of the collar of his blue shirt, roaming his mouth with my tongue. His fingers curled strands of my hair and I tried not to grin knowing it'd break the kiss.
He eventually pulled away and sneakily kissed my jawline. I chuckled at the touch as his eyes fixated on mine.
"We're going to be okay?" I asked, a familiar sense to the question.
"I wouldn't lie to you... I'm in love with you, darling"
All those torturous hours in the bathroom, the agony of being shot, those hours in the hospital, those days spent in therapy, those sleepless nights and all those nightmares- they all seemed worth it.
Because we were going to be okay.
Because he was in love with me.
Because I was in love with him.
And I'd never let go.
[For all time ♫ ]