Chapter 31: Never meant to hurt you

The inaudible words and sounds coming through the radio give away the accent of the radio host and reveal the region of Cambodia I'm in. Sadly, the pitch-black fabric of the blindfold makes it impossible to get a single clue about any specific whereabouts. After years of dealing with dealers and criminal masterminds you'd think I'd be able to manipulate my way out of the hole I dug for myself. But as I feel the rumbling engine and two muscular dudes taking place on either side of my slender body, I think it's safe to assume that my time is running out.

A drop of sweat runs from my brow down the side of my face. I taste a hint of salt as it slips past my lips. It's quite unreal how in these situations the human body and mind work in synchronisation to achieve a state of hyperawareness. All in order to pick up every detail of literally anything it can get its hands on, like the ticking sound coming from the front. Probably the driver who's drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Or the smacking sound accompanied by a minty smell coming from the gum chewing guard on my right. Or just noises, smells and senses in general. Over the years I became quite good in picking up the tiniest elements in my surroundings.

"We're almost at the headquarters." To my surprise a female voice comes out of nowhere.

"Glad to hear. This one's been a real pain in the ass." The gum shewing guard exclaims.

"How come?" Another stern voice coming from the front.

"Had to give her sedatives on the plane from NY, she wouldn't keep calm. Kept screaming for some girl, Priya or something. How we would ruin their lives."

If I were able to, I would kill all these people with my bare hands. I'd start with that guard; Piper isn't just some girl.

"She should've thought about that before stealing the drugs."

"These stupid bitches destroy their own lives and then dare to complain when they're the ones assigned to clean up the mess." The chuckle leaving his mouth makes my blood boil.

"If she wanted to play happy family with her sin of a girlfriend, she should've thought about that a long time ago."

"Exactly."

The rest of the ride I try to relax as much as possible while the unknown people in the car continue to discuss my mistakes and act as if I'm not even here to pick up on their judgement.

"We're here."

Doors open and close. Nails dig into the skin of my pale arm and slowly drag me away into nothingness. There is only one sentiment running through my being. Utter fear.

"That's how it all began." Fake confidence being the undertone in my voice.

It's not like I'm lying. This is exactly how it went. After leaving Piper in bed I tried to board a plane. But as she, and now Patrick, knows I was brought to a warehouse in NY where they held me for an indefinite period before they transferred me to Cambodia to start working for their organisation. While telling my story I gladly left out the drug and abuse parts. Being as vague as possible being my only goal. There's no need to give Patrick any chances to provoke certain responses from me.

"I must say that you made a lot of progress today Alex. I wasn't expecting you to be so open. How do you feel after sharing?"

"Shitty." A short response should do.

"How come?"

"Look, I've seen and done some fucked up shit in my life, but I've never sat down and whined about it so I'm sure not gonna start today."

"You still believe that coming here is a form of whining?"

I supress the urge to roll my eyes. "I have a sarcastic comment ready, so I guess I'll just keep it to myself."

"We all know we can't choose which cards we're dealt but we're responsible for how we play them."

I chuckle loudly, probably a bit too loud by the look on my therapist's face. "I'm sorry, but that sounded a bit too much like it came straight out of a textbook."

"But it's the truth, right?"

"So, basically, you're saying that I'm responsible for being abducted." This therapy thing seems to turn into more of a mystery by the minute. "That's dark, don't you think?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"You're saying I should stop running from my issues." I deliberately make air quotes when using the word issues, I never really relate to the word. "Saying I should start processing them."

"What were your past coping mechanisms? And don't bother wasting both of our times with any nothing can touch me speeches. We've been there Alex."

He smiles and winks, which makes me shift in my seat due to discomfort.

"Well, I was going to say I used to suck it all up."

"And what did you do to get rid of stress then? Everyone uses something."

"Yeah? Like what?"

This instant defensiveness is a trait I worshipped in the past. Now it seems like I'm using it whenever I can to hold control over the last bits and pieces of my life. There's this constant inner conflict of wanting to get better without having to share myself and my secrets with others that's making it almost impossible for me to heal.

"I'd rather hear from you."

I hum. "Fair warning, I'm not exactly proud of my ways."

"I'm not judging Alex."

"From a young age I discovered my way with women, so I used sex as a distraction."

"You say when you were young. So, what about when you became an adult?"

"Went to bars, got drunk, picked up girls and sometimes did a couple of lines." I'm glad to see that Patrick's able to keep his facial expressions neutral.

"And how effective were these methods?"

I shake my head repeatedly from left to right. "The women came and went. It's not until Piper came around that I lost all interest in others."

"And the drugs and alcohol?"

"Drugs were nice every now and then and booze gave a nice buzz. But I think you could say none of them really had enough effect."

"And how about now?"

"What?"

"Which method is still playing a significant and fulfilling role in your life?"

"None really."

"Which one still is?"

"I do drink on occasion."

"What's your definition of an occasion?"

"When I go out to a bar." I say matter-of-factly.

"Does this occur often?"

"Once or twice a week." I must remind myself that Patrick is just asking basic stuff. There seems to be this thin line between feeling like I am interrogated or just asked random questions.

"And how much do you drink?"

"Don't tell me you count your drinks." I smirk.

"On estimate?"

"It depends really, but I guess three or four."

"Are these shots, cocktails, beers?"

"I'm done talking about this." I'm quite certain Patrick can pick up on the hostile tone in my voice.

"I'll let you off the hook for now. But I'd like to continue this conversation next session. It's important that we work on finding techniques that can reduce your anxiety and stress. By that I mean methods that don't involve numbing yourself with substances."

I exhale loudly. "Fine. Whatever."

"Since we only have fifteen minutes left, I'm not gonna start digging in your memory. So, is there something you'd like to talk about today?"

"Normally you're the one with the questions."

"Therapy isn't about me. If there is something on your mind, this is a safe place to talk. Feel free to share Alex."

"Well, coincidence or not there is something that's been bothering me the last few days. Might as well ask your advice…" I mutter the last part. I still don't feel completely comfortable talking about my personal life with someone who's not involved.

"When you're ready."

I'm not exactly sure why I want to bring it up but fuck it. Since I'm paying him, might as well use his expertise.

"I'm allowed to talk about my relationship, right?"

"You talk about whatever you want."

"Well, the thing is…Piper handed me a letter."

Why the words feel so heavy when speaking them aloud is a mystery to me.

"One she wrote after she thought I'd died."

And that's when the actual lump forms in my throat.

"Have you read it?"

"No."

It's like I'm physically incapable of opening the envelope. I've tried a few times but so far it was all try and error. I feel like such an idiot.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Who says I'm afraid?"

"You. It's written all over your face."

"I'm not afraid." My voice is harsh, I know it came out a tad too defensive. Alex Vause doesn't get scared by some words written on a piece of paper. I've plenty of other reasons to be scared, her letter is not one of them.

"Then why don't you read it?"

Being the asshole that I am I take my phone out of my pocket, observe that it's time for our session to end and lift myself up from the couch.

"I'll see you next time." I walk straight to the door.

"Alex." It's a miracle Patrick manages to keep his cool in front of me.

"Yes?"

"Take it with you on Thursday. If you want, you can read it here and we'll take our time to discuss it. If you don't, then that's fine to. But bring it with."

I take a brief pause before continuing.

"See you on Thursday." With that I open the door with a swift motion and make sure that I'm out of the building sooner rather than later.

….

When walking into Piper's apartment an overwhelming smell of garlic settles in the inside of my nose. Normally I'd take my time upon entering, pulling my shoes off and hanging my jacket on the hook by the door. This time around though, I drop whatever I was holding and sprint to the kitchen.

"Are you trying to set things on fire?"

Piper doesn't answer me, she's too caught up in whatever song she's listening to through her Marshall headphones.

"Piper? Hello?"

She still hasn't heard me. Her ponytail flings from one side to the other as she shakes her head and murmurs some lyrics. She probably has no idea whatever's been sung. In her enthusiasm she drops a pan full of beans but doesn't bother to pick it up immediately as she concentrates on a high note. Her clumsiness touches me, and my chest feels heavier than before. The earlier lump that had formed in my throat during my therapy session reappears. A single tear slides oh so gently by the side of my nose. I'm quick to make it seem as if it was never there.

Being able to feel her happiness enlightens something so deep and precious that I haven't felt in so long. Yesterday we rebuilt our connection through our lovemaking. Seeing her now, I just can't explain how she makes me feel.

Deciding that I need to touch her I walk up to her and wave my hand in front of her face. She drops the knife she was holding while cutting the ends of some leftover beans.

"Oh hi Al!"

With her hands in the air, being extra careful not to touch me, she kisses my cheek. She dries her hands on a towel and takes off her headphones. Not satisfied with the limited amount of affection I kiss her full on the mouth and express my love and gratitude.

"Hey babe." I whisper against her lips.

Piper seems oblivious to the state I'm in and steps back to continue her cooking.

"How was your appointment?"

I lower my hand into a bowl of cut vegetables and pop a piece of carrot in my mouth.

"Before we dive into that, can you please tell me what god-awful smell hangs in the air?" I chuckle lightly.

"I'm making chicken. See, it's already halfway done."

She says, all proud of herself, and points me towards the oven. I put my hands around my eyes and peek inside.

"I'm gonna open a window." I chuckle.

"What? Don't trust my skills."

"After last night I sure do trust you."

Piper blushes at my admission.

"But still Pipes, how much garlic did you use? After I eat dinner you might not even want to kiss me."

"Lucky for you then that there won't be any time to kiss me." She winks.

"What'd you mean?"

"Your mom and Robert will be here soon."

"She didn't mention it on the phone earlier."

"She probably didn't want to bother you with anything. You know how she is Al."

"She never bothers me."

"So, giant, are you gonna stand there and do nothing, or are you gonna feel like helping at some point?"

"No boss, I'll take a quick shower and then I'll be all yours." A gentle slap on her butt makes her squeal.

I retreat into her bedroom to rid myself of a thick layer of leftover sweat and anxiety.

….

To say Piper's chicken was a success is an understatement. After dinner we called it an early night and fell asleep enveloped in one another's arms.

The next morning, I wake up early and find myself staring at Piper's closed eyelids. She still has some hours to go before she must go to work. When I trace her lips with my index finger it's like lightning strikes my slender body. She looks so fragile yet so unconquerable. A low puff leaves her lips and I get reminded of my conversation with Patrick.

"What are you so afraid of?"

I want to say I'm not. Or at least lie and say I don't know.

But I do.

Piper has a way with words. She can put magic to paper and if it turns me into something I don't want I think I won't survive. I've just never associated myself with certain traits. What I mean is, her letter has the ability to finally make me open up. That's why she's so insistent and asks me daily if I've read it. She knows that I react differently to written words, especially hers.

With the courage that I built over the night I slip out of bed, put on one of Piper's robes that reaches halfway my calves and walk out of her room. I contemplate for several moments if it's actually the right time, but with her sleeping and me still being half sleep due to being awoken early I think it's safe to say that I should just do it. Rip off the band aid. Now that I've brought it up in my session Patrick sure is going to question me about it so it might as well read it in a safe space.

Taking the letter out of my jacket I settle into the couch and take a deep breath. It's now or never.

….

"You'd think I'm crazy

Convince me if I'm wrong

But believe me when I say

I woke up entirely cold

.

Feeling out of place

While all is still the same

I try and look around

But there's no such thing as the missing face

.

My blanket covered body

Walks with heavy thread

To the room without voices

Now it's all conversations in my head

.

When there is no clutter of books

Stained by empty cups of coffee

No jackets on the back of chairs

Waiting on my lifting hand

.

No keys to be turned

No chuckles to be made

Too much tears to be shed

And absent hands to collect them

.

I feel there's no point in being here

When all there's left is emptiness

And me

In me

.

But we're trying

Nails digging in flesh

Reaching for bone

Erasing all fears of being left

.

The blanket is to be thrown

The books reopened

Jackets to be worn

The resurrection of your soft and unique touch

.

The room surrounds me

When I stretch out my hand

I long for you to grab it

So we can do it all together again

.

I will get you through it

My love

Get me through it

.

All"

….

A/N

I know that this is months after my last post and that this chapter is way shorter but this is all I'm able to do for now. I did not forget this story, it's actually the opposite, but life has been tough on me and still is. I'm not used to sharing personal things about myself on the internet but I'll be honest and share that years of chronic depression are starting to take its toll.

Please be safe, wherever you are.

Thank you for your lovely reviews, they do mean a lot. I love you all. -Alex