-Jordan-
I did get out of bed after a long struggle. It felt horrible to ignore my messed-up instincts, and exhausting to convince myself nothing bad was going to happen, but when I was standing next to my bed, it was easier to take the first step to the door.
I visited the bathroom, and I tried to force myself to take a shower but couldn't do it. After a short struggle, I decided to use my energy on eating. It was way more important than smelling nice. Getting something to eat was a big battle on its own, so I needed to focus on that.
And a battle it was. I peered at the clock every five seconds as I slowly washed my hands, made my way to the kitchen, grabbed a can of yogurt, and sat down at the table. I tried to focus on how well I was doing compared to the times I couldn't even get out of the bed, but I couldn't completely shake the feeling I was doing something terribly wrong.
On top of that, it had taken me ten minutes and twenty seconds to get here because I needed to stop to catch my breath a few times, and it frustrated me.
That wasn't even the hardest part. I stared at the can of yogurt. I wasn't allowed to eat. That was my punishment for missing my schedule. A remnant from the days when I used to torture myself with broken glass and other sharp objects.
I stared at the can, preparing my mantra. Nothing bad was going to happen. I didn't need to punish myself. It was perfectly fine to eat. But I never started it. I couldn't concentrate on the power words because Blake had promised to talk with me once I was done eating. It was easier to focus on his words. After all, he'd been the only thing on my mind the entire morning.
"If I eat this, I can call him," I said, staring at the yogurt.
I'd never rewarded myself for doing things against my OCD. I had never given myself anything to look forward to during these struggles, and only focused on pushing myself simply because I had to. I never believed rewards could help, but thinking about Blake gave me more strength than any of my power words ever had.
It took a while, but this time it was easier to start eating. It was pretty shocking. Eating was always difficult for me because I feared I'd choke on the food, so when my mind was insisting on punishing myself, it became practically impossible.
But now, as long as I kept thinking about Blake, it was pretty doable. For someone like me. For someone who had nearly drowned in a ditch because their tiny body had been too broken to hold their head above the water.
"Blake... Blake... Blake..." I muttered, forcing myself to think about the thief. I couldn't afford to think about the past at that moment. If I failed to eat... "No. No failing. It's not a failure if I don't eat. It only means I'll be hungry."
Failure. Success. Two words that were most harmful in my vocabulary. There were no such things as failing to eat or failing to take a shower. To others, failing to eat meant being hungry. To me it meant I failed as a person, and I needed to be punished for it. Rewarding myself was probably just as bad because it could easily turn into another obsessive thought, or make worse the ones I already had.
I turned my attention back to my yogurt. I could talk with Blake once I finished eating. It was that simple. No rewards, no failures. After I was done eating, I could talk to him, that's it.
So, I ate. It took me almost fifteen minutes to do so, but it was still better than normally. When I finished, I felt victorious, but I was in too much of a hurry to focus on that. I put the can away and hurried to the intercom in my living room.
"Blake? Are you there?" I called him, and soon he answered.
"Hey! Did you eat already?"
"I did!" I said, and for the first time ever, I felt really proud of it.
"That's great! What did you eat?"
"Yogurt. What have you been doing?"
"Nothing much. I also had breakfast and was reading the newspaper when you called," Blake said. "How are you feeling? And please don't ignore me, I want to know if there's something bothering you."
"I'm not ignoring you," I said quietly. "I'm fine – really."
"You missed your schedule, so I'm guessing you're not fine," he said slowly. "Your mom is really worried about you."
"She worries too much. I'm not at my best, but I'm not freaking out either."
"That's good," he said, turning silent for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was hesitant. "Can I ask... What do you usually do when you miss your schedule?"
I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about it, but he did deserve an answer. "I try to concentrate on eating and using the toilet. That's about it. In the evening, when this gets a little easier to bear, I usually try to read something," I told him.
"It gets easier in the evening?" he repeated.
"Yeah. I guess I get used to the situation a little," I explained.
"Uh-huh. How does it work when you miss something? When are you allowed to do things again?"
"In the next morning when I wake up. Then I can start all over again," I told him.
"Have you ever thought about not starting it all over again?" he asked.
"I have to!" I said sharply. "That's not an option!"
"Why not? If you get used to the situation after a while, why do you need to start all over?"
"You... That's not... No! You don't understand! I feel better in the evening because I know it's going to be morning soon, and I can start all over again!" I spoke angrily.
"Oh – all right. Sorry, this is all new to me," he said apologetically. "I didn't want to make you angry."
I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. Even hearing such things made me anxious. "Just don't say that ever again," I eventually said. "It makes everything a lot worse for me if you do."
"I'm really sorry, and I promise I won't say it again," Blake hurried to say.
"Good, because this is hard enough for me as it is," I sighed.
"I know," he said in a sad voice.
There was a short pause of silence between us before I managed to calm myself down. "It's weird to talk with you like this," I said, and heard a chuckle coming from the other end.
"Yeah. I'm still not quite used to being indoors," he said.
"Is it that bad to have a roof over your head?" I asked.
"I'm feeling a little claustrophobic," he admitted. "Like I'm trapped or something."
"I can relate," I muttered, looking outside. "I'm scared of small places. That's why my walls are made of glass."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh. So, when was the last time you stayed indoors this long?" I asked.
"I can't even remember. A few months ago, maybe," he said.
"You've been sleeping outside for a few months?" I said in shock.
"And abandoned buildings, but yeah, I prefer sleeping under the stars," Blake admitted. "I feel free when I do. There are no restrictions or responsibilities. No one tells me what to do or what I can't do, and..." he trailed off and chuckled. "Well, I am a criminal, so..."
I laughed lightly at his words before I fell silent. "Have you ever considered having a normal job and live like the rest of us?" I asked.
"What else can I do? We've talked about this. Officially, I don't even exist," Blake said with a joking tone. "I don't mind helping your mom for food, but no one would hire me. I can barely even read!"
"There has to be some kind of record of you being born," I said. "Did your mom ever say anything about where you're from, or who your dad is?"
"No, nothing. I can't even remember her name. I can't remember what she looked like. All I know is that I was born in some shady free clinic," Blake explained.
"So you have absolutely no idea about who you are?" I asked.
"No... Well, there is one thing... I remember a man who came to see Mom a few times. They talked about me, but I have no memory of what it was about," Blake said.
"Is it possible that he was your father?" I asked, feeling excited, but it didn't last long.
"No. I got the impression I was just another way for him to get more money. I think Mom was part of a gang or something."
I wasn't sure if I should tell him how that sounded, but I didn't need to.
"I know. I'm pretty sure my mom was a hooker or something. And I'm sure it was supposed to be my fate too," he said humorlessly. "But when she vanished, I took off and never returned to that place. I can't remember which city it was, but I've never seen that place again."
How horrible his life must've been! I wanted to tell him that everything was all right now, but he didn't seem to hate his life. On the contrary, he talked about it like it was the best life anyone could ever have.
"We could hire a private investigator," I offered.
"With what money?" he chuckled. "Besides, there's nothing to investigate. I can't give any details or anything else that could help. I've accepted the fact that I'm just a ghost. I don't exist, and no one remembers me."
"I know you exist," I said quietly. "I will remember you for the rest of my life."
Blake didn't reply to me at first, and when he spoke, he sounded happy. "Well, I guess I'm not a ghost anymore."
"No, you're not," I said with a chuckle, hoping I could see his expression now. "Are you coming to visit me at seven?" I asked, but he didn't reply to me. I quickly realized why. "Sorry... I already forgot you're living here now. That was silly..."
"Don't worry about it. It's hard to let go of old habits," he said. "Well..."
"Yeah, I'm full of old habits," I chuckled. "I'm a weirdo, I know."
"No, you're not," he said tenderly. "Anyway – I can come to see you whenever you want. Like right now."
"Right... Right now?" I said, glancing at my door. "I... I... I need some time... to get used to the idea, you know?"
"I understand, but when you are ready to see me, just let me know, all right?" Blake said.
"All right," I said, but then it hit me. Blake wouldn't be climbing up on my balcony anymore. He wouldn't come to see me at seven. I could see him only if I opened the front door. "I suppose you don't want to climb on my balcony anymore?" I asked.
"If you want me to, I will," Blake said cheerily.
"Really?" I asked.
"Do you want me to?"
I thought about it and peered at my front door again. I was being silly. If I could talk with Blake when he was standing on my balcony, I could talk with him when he was at my front door as well. It was just a different door.
"I uh... I can try to open the front door. I don't want you to risk your life climbing on the wet roof," I said quietly.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, just... don't come in if I can do it, okay?" I pleaded.
"I won't, I promise. I'll come up now. You don't have to open the door. We can just talk through the hatch or something," he suggested, and I felt relieved.
"Sure, that sounds good," I said.
"See you in a bit," Blake said cheerily before ending the call.
I turned to look at the door as I got up on my feet. It took me forever to find the courage to walk to it. I took a few small steps towards it before I had to stop to take a breather. I was afraid of that door and everything behind it. I hadn't been outside in years, and it scared me. What I was about to do scared me. I was able to drop my shopping list to the basket at the other side of the hatch, but now I was supposed to stay near it and talk with Blake.
"It's just Blake. I can do this," I muttered and took two steps closer to it.
"Jordan?" I heard his muffled voice from the other side.
"I'm coming!" I spoke, but didn't know if I could actually do it.
"Okay, take your time," he said patiently.
He was making everything so much easier for me. The door didn't seem so scary anymore when I knew it was Blake standing on the other side.
I tilted my head when that thought crossed my mind. I already knew Blake was different, like he had a different aura than the rest of them. But could it be that he made me feel safer? For a nineteen-year-old, he was a big guy, but instead of being afraid of him, I really felt safer around him.
Without even noticing it, I was already standing right in front of the door. I had to take a step back when I realized it.
"Jordan?"
"I'm here," I said, feeling out of breath. I wasn't sure if it was because of the door or Blake. Maybe both.
"Are you all right?"
"Stop asking me that. I will tell you if I'm not all right," I snapped at him.
"Okay, okay. So, what's next?"
"Let me take a breath first," I said, staring at the door.
It was just a door. I'd been talking to him through the balcony door several times before, and the only difference was that now I couldn't see him. Still, I needed to calm down before I could reach for the handle while Blake waited ever-so-patiently on the other side.
But when I felt the cold metal against my fingers, I pulled my hand away like it was burning hot.
"I can't do it," I breathed out and turned around. "I can't open it."
"It's all right. We can talk like this if you want," Blake said. "Little steps."
"But now I can't see you," I huffed and turned to look at the door again.
"Oh? I thought you were afraid of seeing people," he spoke.
I blushed at his words. "Well, if you want to know, you are different. I'm afraid to see you, but I still want to see you..."
"Well, I can put my hand through the hatch if you want. Then you can talk to the hand," Blake chuckled.
"Ha, ha, very funny," I said, but I let out a quiet laugh.
"Do you want me to give you my hand?" Blake asked with a more serious tone.
"Why not," I chuckled and shook my head in amusement.
Blake was careful when he pushed his hand through the hatch. I took a step back and tried to keep myself calm. His hand wasn't that bad, but I still felt uneasy looking at it. The situation was weird, even in my weird life.
"Is this good?" Blake asked.
"It's fine," I muttered, looking somewhere down at my feet. "This is silly," I added.
"If it helps, then I don't mind," Blake said cheerily. "So, how long have you been painting?"
I had to look up for a moment. I stared at Blake's hand like it was his face. The guy was serious about this? Holding his hand in the hole of my door, making small talk?
"I – I uh... I started it when I was at the mental hospital," I said. "It was part of my rehabilitation."
"You are extremely talented," Blake said. "I like your paintings. Especially the one you painted of yourself."
"Obviously," I chuckled and stepped closer to the door. "I'm supposed to do a figurine next, but I have no idea what I should make."
"I like those too. Maybe you can make me something," Blake said with a flirty tone.
"Sure," I chuckled. "By the way, your hand is distracting me."
"You'll get used to it," he said tenderly.
"I guess," I muttered, and a thought popped in my head. Well, it wasn't much of a thought, it was more like an urge. I wanted to touch his hand. I couldn't even remember when was the last time I touched another person. "Could you hold still for a moment?" I asked shyly.
"Sure. Why?" Blake asked.
"Just hold still," I repeated and took another step closer.
I lifted my hand and hesitated for a long time, before moving it closer to him. I felt the adrenalin rushing through my veins, and I was ready to flee like his hand was a dangerous snake. Blake didn't even flinch, while I collected my courage to touch his fingers. When I felt his warm skin, I quickly pulled my hand away with a racing heart.
"That tickled," Blake laughed. "That was really good! See? You're a lot stronger than you think."
I retreated from the door, holding my hand against my chest like I was in pain. I had to fight against myself to keep my sanity, but I did it! I actually touched him!
"Are you all right?" Blake asked when I didn't reply to him.
"I'm – I'm fine. I told you... I'll tell you if I'm not... not all right..." I muttered absentmindedly.
"Do you want to do it again?" Blake asked.
"No... I guess. No. Maybe?" I stuttered and looked away from the door.
"It's all right. Take your time. I am here just for you," Blake said, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Okay, well, maybe one more time," I said enthusiastically. I was still nervous, but otherwise, I felt great.
I returned to the door, and I lifted my hand again. This time, I didn't hesitate as long as I had the first time. I tried not to think about how silly it was when I reached towards his hand and caressed his skin lightly.
His hand felt warm and silky under my touch. I had a small smile on my face when I moved my fingers across it. Blake stood still silently, giving me all the time to get used to his presence.
After a while, he moved his hand slowly, turning it around carefully, so he could touch me. It felt amazing to feel the touch of another living being. I had always missed it, but I had no idea how much I had yearned for it.
"Are you afraid?" Blake asked quietly, and I froze still.
"N-No," I breathed out.
"Good," he whispered. "I don't want you to be afraid of me. I would never do anything to hurt you or make you scared."
"I know," I said quietly, and it was the truth.
I knew I could trust Blake. I just knew it in my heart.