No one came to visit her.
Nor had she wanted them to. She did not want to be seen in this state-of-mind. The people she once worked with, once cared for, once loved, would not recognize her now.
She barely ate. It was not as if she was forcing herself not to, it was simply because, she forgot. Her stomach never asked for food. It never grumbled, it never moaned, it just sat inside of her, silent and unmoving. Every once in a while, she would remember and she would consume something light, but if you asked her, she would not be able to recall the last time she had a full meal.
She was curled up in a ball in her bed, her sheets limply covering her tiny, fragile body. Her knees were up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She was rolled onto her left side, facing her nightstand, which held her unplugged alarm clock. Its once vibrant, bright, red numbers would greet her each morning as she would wake up to go to work. Now they were out, never to be seen again, gone in a flash.
Also on her nightstand was her phone, yet it was not unplugged. She heard it ring, at first, numerous times a day, but it had died down since. The red, message-indicator light was blinking at her fervently, almost taunting her. She had about forty new messages, yet she remained still.
She had not had a full night's sleep since she was fired. She would get sleep, yes, but sometimes her dreams were so terrifying that she would wake up, gasping, even screaming. She now lays awake in bed, thinking silently to herself, standing still as the world moves on and dreams.
Yet, today, for the first time in a while, she forced her fatigued body to sleep. Still in a ball, she closed her eyes, studying the inside of her eyelids, praying that would be all she will dream of. Right as she was about to drift, there was a knock on her apartment door.
Her ash-green eyes flew open, and she felt her body go rigid. She waited in her bed, and eventually, heard the same, soft, three-knock pattern. Her first reaction was to ignore it, but she found her limbs moving without her knowing. In her yoga pants and her low-cut long-sleeved shirt, she was getting up out of her bed, walking over to the door, running her hand through her auburn hair, and opened the door.
When she saw the person on the other side, she lost feeling in her knees for a moment, and had to place her hand on the doorframe for support. "Jack," she said softly, her voice almost inaudible from lack of use.
He looked her over, and she watched as his face fell. Before she could truly register it, she was in his arms, he was holding her, she was gripping onto him tightly, in fear that he would disappear as quickly as he had come.
"Renee," he says softly, as she burrows her head into his shoulder. "Renee," he repeats, and she feels his grip tighten around her. Without saying a word, like a child, she tugs on his hand softly and he follows after her.
He sits down on her couch that faces the mantelpiece and her window-view of the city. She sits down next to him, their knees touching, their warmth being shared. Within the moments of listening to the sounds of the city, she cannot control it; her eyes well, her vision blurred. She looks down at her hands, and through her tears she sees that they are intertwined with his. "Jack," she says, weary.
"Renee," he says back to her, his voice stern yet his tone still filled with the same sense of softness and protection. "how long have you been here? Alone?"
She looks away, feeling a small, rouge tear escape her eye and roll rapidly down her cheek. "A couple of months," she answers after a moment, her voice shaking slightly.
He grabs her chin, and wipes her tear with his thumb. "You should have called," he whispers to her, and pulls her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.
She is bawling now, defiantly, without restraint. Her hands are near her face in his chest, and she says, muffled by his shoulder, "I'm sorry, Jack," yet they both knew the apology had more than one meaning.
"Listen to me," Jack says, gently pushing her back so she can look him in the eyes, "I am never, ever going to let you be this alone again. No one deserves to be this way, and especially not you." He grabs her face with his hands, lightly, and pushes a strand of her hair behind her right ear. He watches as her lower lip begins to quiver, and her eyes fill with even more tears, and he promises himself in that moment that he will do absolutely anything to keep her from feeling this way again.
"Jack," she says to him, looking from the ground back up to his eyes, "I--"
But she is cut off, for he has pressed his lips against hers. Through her tears that keep falling without her warning, she is taking in his touch, the feel of his lips, her heartbeat against his. He has his arms around her again, tightly, and although she did not have much strength to give back, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She did not want him to go. She wanted him to stay, forever, and never leave her.
She pulls back from him when she finds that she cannot breathe. He stares at her with warm intent, and watches his face fall again. Bringing his hand to her cheek he cups it, and states, "You're crying," he wipes her tears with the back of his hand, "Why are you crying?"
She looks at him, studying his eyes, his lips, his hands. All of these she adores, all of these she prays will not be a distant memory in her mind. "Promise me you won't leave, Jack." This time, she feels the tears fly out of her eyes. "Promise me,"
He kisses her again, this time with more passion and more strength. She breathes slowly as she feels him working his way down her body; he is kissing her lips, her neck, her hands, and she is gripping onto his torso, kissing his neck as he navigates her. "Feel my heart," she says to him, and with a sleeve covering most of her hand, she gently nudges his head against her chest.
He closes his eyes and listens to it pound and she hears it in her ears: thumthum thumthum thumthum thumthum. It beats so hard and fast that it sounds like one, long, murmured thunder. He softly kisses the skin where her heart is, and it sends joy and excitement rushing through her veins. He brings his head back to her face, and says to her gently, simply, "I love you,"
"I love you so much, Jack," she tells him, and kisses his lips lightly. He places his hand on her cheek, his hand warm.
"Jack," she whispers, "You can have me."
He angles his head slightly and furrows his brow as he stares at her gently and curiously. "You can take what you like and leave the rest," she adds.
"Renee," he tells her, "I want you on your worst days and your best nights. I want you when you are crying so hard that you can't even breathe. I want you for who you are, and I'm not going to pick and choose. I want all of you."
"I'm all yours," she tells him, and she tugs on his hand again, bringing him into her bedroom.
"Are you sure you want this?" He asks her. He is almost unsure, for he does not want her to feel pressured.
Instead of answering him she smiles and kisses him, falling into him, both of them removing their clothing as they go and moving together harmoniously, complimenting each other. She lets his hands and lips travel her body, and she grips onto him tightly as he does so. He is kissing her neck, her shoulders, her chest. She is beneath him, he is laying on top of her, his arms underneath hers and locking them around her back. She is almost paralyzed with utter glee and ecstasy for she finds herself, at first, merely laying there, letting him explore her body with his baby-soft lips and kind hands. Their bodies fit like a glove, each curve hugging the other.
She feels his lips across her body, his hands holding onto her back tightly. She sighs, completely happy, and leans her head against his when it comes up to the base of her neck, her hands tracing his back. She needs him, her heart and soul yearn for him. He is her life-line.
They turn over, and they are both on their sides, facing each other. They pull each other closer, and she works her way across his body while he holds her tightly. His fingertips brush across her skin as she explores him, their softness almost tickling her.
He kisses each scar he finds on her body, from injuries to self-inflicted harm. "You kiss my scars," she says to him, pulling his face back up to her, softly. "Why?"
"Because for all of the pain that made you get these scars, I feel them, too. I've always felt them, Renee," He pulls her to him and they are flesh against flesh, their lips locking and their bodies creating no space between them.
When they are done, they hold onto each other, neither of them wanting to move. "Renee?" he asks, after they are still.
She looks up at him, gripping onto him tightly as he holds her in his arms. "Yes?"
"I'm not going anywhere," he promises, and kisses her forehead.
For the first time in a long time, she got a full night's rest.