Duncan sat by Courtney's sleeping figure on a small, cushy chair. His right elbow was propped up on the arm of it, his hand cradling his cheek. The air may seem peaceful, but what Duncan was feeling wasn't. Sounds heard through ears inside the room were the machines and Courtney's soft breathing.
He really didn't want to be here. He hated hospitals. He hated doctors. He hated everything in here. It made him feel uncomfortable, and that's the opposite feeling hospitals were supposed to give. When he saw the doctor put the IV on the front of her hand, he turned away. It's not like he was afraid of needles; it's just that…the doctor was holding the needle. If it were a different person, like a gang leader, he would've been fine.
He stayed for Courtney.
But Duncan was shocked when Courtney just fell on top of him. She was a strong person—physically and mentally. At least, that's what he thought. How can this abnormally strong woman faint so easily was what he asked to himself. It just didn't seem logical for him.
He knew that she was stressing out—over her school work, over her clients, and maybe over Duncan himself. But she managed to balance all of them. Could it be that there was something else beneath her regular worries? Her intense anger didn't help it at all, as well. Duncan thought it was something else—perhaps something she didn't really want to tell Duncan, or her…past, which could very well relate to the former.
The door opened, showing an alarmed-looking Bridgette. Her low ponytail was loose, and multiple of hair strands were scattered everywhere. She went inside and closed the door. She ran to the bed and stood next to Duncan. She placed a shaking hand on Courtney's IV-free hand.
Duncan didn't feel the need to say anything. He knew she was too loss for words. He could feel her agony scorching out of her vulnerable form. Bridgette knew Courtney more than anyone—he couldn't imagine the grief she was feeling now.
"How—how did this happen?" Bridgette whispered heartbreakingly. "Courtney fainted. Courtney fainted. Don't you see what's wrong with that sentence?" She turned towards him with teary eyes.
Duncan wanted to look away; he couldn't stand seeing someone cry. He didn't know what to say.
"I called her on the phone to see if she was okay. You see, this morning we, my girlfriend and I, met her at this fast food restaurant. We were doing okay for a while when Courtney suddenly snapped, because we were flirting in front of her and she didn't like that. She and Gwen got into this little fight, and I talked to both of them. Courtney apologized, and everything was fine after that," he explained.
"Courtney apologized?" She sounded incredulous.
"Believe it or not, Bridgette." He sighed. "Anyways, I called her again, because I wanted to check up on her. I think she was at her house. We were joking around, and then all of a sudden, she started screaming. I think she was late for a session with someone.
"I rushed over to her building because I felt like I had to… It's hard to explain, but I was just worried. When I arrived, I heard this loud yelling; I assumed it was Courtney, and I was right. That Lindsay chick was behind me. Obviously Courtney was yelling and shit because of Lindsay. So I told Lindsay and that Miranda chick to leave so I could talk to her. I was afraid Courtney might beat them up." He chuckled shortly. "I tried calming her down, but she pinned me against the wall with her damn strength. She was still yelling, and I started to get mad at her, telling her to calm down. Then she just…fainted. Just like that. All of this is fucking messed up, man…"
Bridgette was already full-blown crying. She covered her face with her hands and just sobbed.
Duncan looked around, feeling slightly awkward and helpless. He scratched his cheek. And then he stood up hesitantly, and slowly put his arms around her. He felt uncomfortable, but he couldn't just sit there and watch her cry.
"The stress…her irrepressible anger…her pain…," she was mumbling to herself. "All of it mixed together must be agonizing… I can't do anything about it, because she doesn't want my help. She doesn't want anybody's help… She never does…" She looked up at Duncan, her olive eyes glistening with tears. "I love her, Duncan. Literally, I'm all she ever has—except you. I want to help her, but I guess you're the only who can help her."
Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked, perplexed. "How am I going to help her? Since she doesn't open up that much to you, what makes you say that she'll open up to me?"
"Because you understand her more. I always feel sorry for her and I try to help her—but you understand her. You, out of all people, can help her. You, you, and only you."
He was speechless. This responsibility was suddenly flung against him. But he knew that he had to help Courtney—she helped him, anyways. It's not like he owed her anything. He did, but he just wanted to help her. She was his friend, his best friend, someone he cared about deeply.
He would help her no matter what, even if Courtney didn't want him to. No one will stand in his way—not even Gwen.
"Again," a tired, annoyed voice said beside him. "I see my two friends hugging now. Do you guys secretly like each other? Are you guys dating? Stop cheating on Gwen, you freaky pig."
Bridgette immediately pulled away and grabbed Courtney's hand. Tears of sadness were gone; tears of joy poured down. "Courtney!" she cried happily. "You're awake!"
"Obviously," Courtney muttered. She started to get up slowly.
"Courtney, you shouldn't—"
"Don't worry, Bridge; I'm fine. I just need to get up and stretch. Ugh, that was horrifying. I didn't sleep well at all. All I saw was…darkness. It was stupid."
Duncan was just staring at her.
Courtney looked at him. "Why are you just staring at me like that?"
He then gave her a tight embrace, grinning hugely. He buried his face in her soft hair, and his grip tightened. He was happy that she was awake. Just the sound of her voice made him happy. She was almost like family to him—not like a sibling; she didn't really match that character. She was probably even more special than family. On par with Gwen?
He shook his head, removing that thought. He loved Gwen—his "love" for Courtney didn't match up to that. Right?
"You're cutting off my air supply, Duncan," Courtney muttered. "Let go of me. I just woke up from that stupid slumber, and you suddenly hug me as if I just magically became alive from the living dead. I'm a patient; be gentle with me."
Duncan laughed and pulled away. His hand was resting on her forearm, though.
"How you feeling, babe?" he asked. "Missed me? Dreamt about me?"
"What part of 'All I saw was darkness' do you not understand?"
"Maybe you saw a flash of green in there."
"That must've been the vomit that I yakked out when I thought of you, then. If I did, that is."
Bridgette giggled. When Duncan glared at her, she turned away, trying to stifle more of the giggles. She cleared her throat and grabbed Courtney's free hand again. The light air was gone now. It was time to get serious.
Courtney stared back at Bridgette. She looked quite irritated, and that bewildered Duncan.
Are they having some kind of telepathy conversation? he thought. Or is it those things only close friends have? A chick thing?
"I'm fine, Bridgette."
"What happened?"
"I saw Duncan's face and fainted."
Duncan glared at her, feeling aggravated. Courtney was seriously being evasive. He didn't like the fact that Courtney wasn't straight up about what happened. He knew that Courtney was hiding things from him. But that wasn't the problem right now. Courtney was doing this to herself. Her anger was making it worse.
"Courtney," Duncan said firmly. "Tell us the truth. You need to. You need to tell that damn doctor, too."
She rolled her eyes at him. "There's nothing to tell. I was just overwhelmed by my anger. Nothing else. So drop it and we can get on with our freaking lives, all right?"
Bridgette sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, my gosh, Courtney!" she yelled. "Can't you at least open up to us?! You fainted. You freaking fainted! That's not like you. You're the strongest girl I know. Don't blame your anger for this. It's your fault for not controlling it! There's something else. It involves your past, right?"
"My past wasn't even lingering in my mind during that little, insignificant incident, Bridgette. Anyways, the past is the past."
"I know that! But what's stressing you out?! School? Your work? What?"
Duncan felt like he shouldn't be here. But he had to—just in case something happened to Courtney. Bridgette was doing the right thing by confronting Courtney and demanding to know what's causing her stress. Courtney was being stubborn. Irritatingly stubborn. He wanted to do something drastic just so she could spit it out already. He didn't want to interfere, though. In a way, this wasn't his fight.
Bridgette took a deep breath, looking away from Courtney for a while. "You're…not alone, Courtney," she murmured. "You have me and Duncan. Why do you keep everything to yourself? There's a reason why we're here, you know."
Courtney stole a quick glance at Duncan. "My sister called," she announced monotonously. "Happy?"
Duncan's eyes widened a little. He didn't know that Courtney had a sister. She never told him, but then again Courtney was sort of like Duncan; she didn't really tel much about herself.
"Charlotte called?" Bridgette gasped, obviously shocked. "Why—why would she? Your last contact with her was when you first had your job as a therapist. She didn't like the idea of you handling a job and school at the same time."
"She disappeared from the face of Earth because she got married, remember? We weren't even close, so why would she keep in touch? I bet she only called me because she was forced to by her husband. He always tried to make us close." She grimaced.
"Voice mail?"
"Yeah. Now are you done with your annoying interrogations?"
Bridgette opened her mouth to say something, but then her watch beeped. She looked down on it and muttered, "Crap." She gave Courtney a brief hug and patted Duncan on the shoulder. She waved at them, smiling, and quickly left.
"Why was she in a rush?" Duncan asked.
"Work."
Duncan watched Courtney was she looked around her surroundings with a look of abhorrence planted on. She situated herself on the bed contentedly, moaning. She looked down on Duncan's hand on her forearm, eyebrows furrowing deeply. Her worry lines showed. She lifted her head up and directed her eyes straight through Duncan's.
Duncan saw past the frontage she always puts up. He could see the vast trauma she's feeling. He could see traces of pain from her past lingering there. It was like they were glued inside of her; no one tried to cleave it out. Bridgette tried, as she said, but she couldn't. Permanent pain. The same thing Duncan has.
"Talk to me, Princess. Please," he whispered. "Just try. And I'll try to do the same for you so my problems will get off of your back. You won't have to stress out anymore. No more worries. And I'll help you with your other clients. I'll help. Just let me."
Courtney stared.
"Scratch that out. I'll help. And you can't stop me."
She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly smirking. It was like she was challenging him. It was like she thought his resilience was humorous. But it wasn't. She was leaning towards evasiveness again.
"Cut your crap, Courtney."
Then she glared at him. The icicles in her eyes were nothing but faux terrorization. Fake. Fake. Fake. An illusion. Something that tried to hide the pain.
The hand on her forearm slid up to her shoulder, gripping it firmly but softly. He brought his face closer to hers so he could communicate with her properly.
They both stared each other down. If it were from an outsider's perspective, they would think that they were having a deadly staring match. But, in actuality, they were having a silent conversation—the same thing that Bridgette and Courtney had earlier. Courtney stopped it, looking away. She bit her lip.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Why what?"
She moved her head and looked at him. "Why do you want to know? It's not important, anyways. Why?" Her voice broke. "Give me a fucking response! Why would you go this far for me? All I did was insult you and push you away without any reason! I do things, and then I don't tell you why! I'm a total hypocrite all the time! Why, why, why, Duncan?! If this is your idea of a joke, then stop. This isn't the time to be assing around, you know. So why?"
He rolled his eyes at her, irritated. "Jeez, you fucking idiot. The answer is simple. For a so-called 'mastermind' like you, you should know this." He smirked at her. "We're friends. Best friends. Close friends. Got it? Is it wedged inside your big-ass brain now, darling? Or do I need to kiss you for it to go in more? I'm sure my tongue will help."
She grimaced and smacked his arm. Then she smiled at him. "Importunate bastard, aren't you?" she muttered.
"The one and only, Princess."
She laughed softly and took a deep breath. She was going to start. "You pledge that you'll talk to me about…your past, right?"
"Yeah, whatever. Hurry the hell up, babe." His hand that was gripping her shoulder was around her arm now, giving it a small squeeze.
Courtney didn't answer back. She stared at her fist which was clenching a handful of her blanket. She looked like she was contemplating on how to start her story, or if she wanted to do this. Duncan hoped it was the first one or else he'll have to keep on persuading her, irritating her for it.
"Well? When are you going start saying some words, babe?"
She glared at me, nostrils flaring. "Shut up first! This isn't effortless for me, you know—and you should know that, right?"
Patience washed over Duncan—surprisingly. He watched her face play out a variety of emotions. Her eyebrows furrowed even more; her worry lines showed even more, as well. As he did this, he noticed that Courtney had freckles. They were splattered on the bridge of her nose, and it looked really cute. It was out of place for her; her personality didn't really go well with freckles. But Duncan liked it on her.
His thumb stroked her arm, hoping that this gesture would help her a little bit. He can tell that she was wondering where to start, how to phrase it. You would think that all you have to do was spill it out, but apparently, it wasn't that simple.
"My mother died when I was seven years old," Courtney said emotionlessly all of a sudden.
Duncan was surprised by the way she started her story. It was a dark, hurtful sentence to say. His hand gripped her arm tighter, telling her that he was here.
"I wasn't predominantly close with her or my father for that matter. We had a formal relationship. Of course, she nurtured me and taught me many things. She always thought I was her little princess, as it says on the photograph you saw in my office. My father was very busy with work, so I didn't really see him much.
"After my mother died, my father was still the same workaholic."
I can see where you got that horrible trait from, Duncan thought bitterly.
"But…he didn't talk to me anymore. Before my mother's passing, he would try to strike up conversations with me if he had the time—which was once in a blue moon. I appreciated that; at least he tried, right?" She took a deep breath.
Duncan wanted to be brave like her. He knew that she was having a hard time, but she was actually saying something. Unlike himself. But he didn't want to be negative—that wasn't like him. If Courtney could open up her painful past, then so could he.
She didn't say anything. She stared at the white blanket draped on her legs.
"My father started dating those kinds of women," she sneered, lips curling over slightly.
Duncan questioned slowly, "What do you mean?"
"Seductresses. Vixens. Succubus. Concubine. Hookers. Prostitutes. Strippers. I guess most of them fall in the same grouping, don't they? I'll call it…"—her eyes turned dark, incredibly dark—"'Fucking Horrendous.' The name fits.
"Fortunately, most of them never stayed long with him. It was a trashy negotiation—an immature, desperate business, you could say. Sex for money. Money for sex. No matter how you put it, it's still ghastly." Her eyes closed now. "My father stayed with one girl for a long time, though. She was absolutely vindictive. My father thought he was hopelessly in love. He was a naïve fucker who was slowly losing money. He knew I hated her, though. So he tried to bribe me by buying things that were 'purportedly' from her. Like Barbie dolls, books, hair ties, brushes, nail polishes, teddy bears, and all things girlie. I absolutely hated the teddy bears—they were nonstop. It's that woman's fault for making me loathe them."
"So that's why you hate them," Duncan muttered.
"What?"
"Never mind. Continue."
Courtney took another deep breath. "I tried warning him about her, but he said I was just imagining things. I always thought that I heard my mother's voice near me. I was still in the state of denial; I still couldn't believe my mother was dead, you know? My sister, Charlotte, didn't want to deal with any drama, so she ignored it. She didn't really care, actually. But her lackadaisical attitude was a cover up for her spinelessness," she spat.
"How old is your sister?"
"She's twenty-four."
Courtney didn't continue again. Duncan's patience never wavered; she was saying something, right? Her eyes opened slowly, but she turned her head away from him. She was most likely staring at the window near them. It was raining outside, the sky being gloomy, matching the air in the room. It made Duncan frown. The damn rain isn't helping Courtney at all, he thought.
"My sister didn't really play a big part in my life—she was in her own little world, you could say. Yes, it was selfish, but that's Charlotte. She always runs away from her problems and problems she's partially involved in." Her fists clenched tighter. "She did try and converse with me at times. I can tell she cares about me, but she just doesn't know how to show it. She's like our father. She's going to be incredibly lost as she grows older. Luckily, she's married to a a good man."
Duncan didn't want to ask this question, but he was curious. "Do…you care about her?"
Silence replied back to him. This wasn't unexpected, though. But Duncan didn't know if he hit a rough spot. She said so herself that her sister wasn't close with her at all, but even so, don't family members still care for each other no matter what?
Duncan slightly winced at that thought. It was like a punch in the face for him.
"In a way…I do care about her. She's my sister."
"What about your dad?"
"I'm never going to answer that question, so don't even think about inquiring it again." Her voice was steel; it wasn't a cover up.
"Sorry."
Courtney took a deep breath. "Just informing you. But I'll skip some parts of my story since most of them are horribly mundane." She paused. "My father soon got tired of me being 'such a naughty girl.' He assumed that it's just a silly phase that young kids go through. But apparently, to him and that damn woman, it was just getting too much. I kept saying 'Mommy this, Mommy that' so much they almost sent me to the mental clinic."
Duncan got irritated with that.
"They didn't. My father didn't want to ruin his reputation. What kind of successful business man would want to be known for having a supposed delusional daughter in the mental clinic rather than his fame and fortune? I was fairly smart for my age, so that's why I knew how my father thought.
"With that being said, me knowing how terrible my father's become, I gave him an attitude and called him 'Father' more. I used to call him 'Daddy,' but the name just doesn't suit him anymore. Regardless of that, yes, I was even more naughtier.
"One time, my father caught me throwing away a teddy bear that girl got me. Then…then…" She faced forward, dipping her head down. "He—he called me a bitch after I got mad at him."
Duncan was beyond, beyond shocked. Never in his life has he ever heard a dad call his own daughter a bitch. Duncan watched boring movies about that, and even heard rumors about someone being called that by their parents, but he himself has never heard it directly. He wanted the truth. He got the truth. A parent calling their own offspring something as horrible as that was just too wrong. His own dad—and his dad hates his freaking guts—never once called him that.
"It may sound like a total lie, but it's true. He kept calling me that. As I grew older, suffering from his harsh names for me, I got angrier and angrier with him. When I was fifteen, I got emancipated. My sister's boyfriend, her husband presently, helped me with that. Even Bridgette, of course. But the emancipation didn't affect my school life, my grades, and everything else that was my top priorities in high school. I breezed through everything easily—with a few mishaps, but I breezed through them, as well." She peeked at him. "That's all, I guess. Short but long in my opinion."
He stared at his hand clutching her arm tight. She didn't seem to notice it, and neither did he. His emotions were going haywire inside of him. She said it. She said the past life that was hurting her up until now. She said it without tears. But Duncan knew she wasn't going to cry; she was tougher than that. He liked her for that.
But will he be able to do the same thing? He didn't want to compare his past life with her, but his past life was bad, too. Courtney's own started when her mother died. Duncan's, however, started when he was around middle school. But he didn't notice it yet. High school, when he was older, wiser, was when it started. Officially started.
"Did my childhood shock you so much you're utterly speechless?" Courtney's quiet voice murmured near him. "That's why I didn't want to tell you it. You'd have that stupid expression on. I hate silence when it comes to this. Say something, all right? You're making me want to take back what I said."
Duncan slid his hand all the way down to her tube-covered one. He grasped it gently, carefully, just in case he might hurt her.
"Idiot, say something. You move your mouth, and your vocal chords do the work."
He smirked at that. Despite her hard efforts on telling her tragic past, she was still acting the same. Will I be able to do that? "Your dad is a fucking son of a bitch," he snarled. "He's the bitch, not you. I know you're a bit sensitive towards the word, but hey, it's the truth, right? Even that woman is a bitch. You're not a bitch, Courtney. You act like one, but you're not truly one."
She smiled softly at him. "Thanks, Duncan," she whispered. "It feels slightly relieving to have it off my chest, the story, I mean.."
"No wonder it's so big," he joked.
Expecting a quick snap from the mocha-haired girl, Duncan was surprised to find himself encased within her slender yet toned arms. Her face was buried in his neck. Her grip was firm. He almost couldn't breathe.
"What the hell?" Duncan said, surprised. "Another uncharacteristic move, Princess."
"This was a sudden action. My brain wasn't totally in synchronization with me, so I guess it made me do this. This was purely accidental; I didn't want to hug you." Lie.
"Then why are you still holding me?" A smirk grew on his face. "Lying is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, ba—"
Courtney hugged him tighter. "Shut up, you immature Neanderthal! Maybe I wanted to asphyxiate you, but I guess my arms were too tired to do so. I told you; I didn't sleep well. I need to catch up on my sleep. Humans need twelve hours of sleep. In this age, we need at least eight."
"'This age'? You're old. You even talk like it."
"I wish I could hit you, but I can't. The IV tube isn't long enough for me to do that. After I get out of this confinement, I suggest you run away from me as soon as possible."
"Let's hope the IV needle is still stuck in your hand so you won't go that far."
He knew that Courtney wouldn't hold back even if the IV was holding her back. She would break it easily. She woudn't for now, but she would regret it later on, breaking the IV tube. Not breaking Duncan, the IV tube.
Courtney laughed out loud. Really, really, really loud. Her arms loosened around him, and her head slid down to his chest. She was shaking, still laughing. She snorted in between and just kept on laughing. It was another shocking thing to see.
Duncan thought her laugh sounded crazy. It was a laugh that was infectious, and slowly, he chuckled a bit, too. Her laugh was cute, as well. Lately, Duncan's been finding a lot of cute things Courtney possesses. He began noticing the little things she has.
She had seven freckles.
TBC.
[La, la, la ~ ]