Chapter 40
Spiraling
Two heavy and sore eyes cracked open, blinking, until they could be willed to stay awake, or at least long enough for Lydia to take in the view of her room.
Tilting her gaze towards the headboard, she discovered that it was gone. Instead of her plush gray headboard, she noted a low cement wall and above that was a large horizontal window covered by blinds that filled the space all the way to the high ceiling.
Yet, the scene didn't make any sense to her.
Still groggy, her mind was contradictory; she didn't have the energy to think much on it, but she wanted to understand what she was seeing… or dreaming.
Think logically. Am I awake? I think so. I know I fell asleep and it's morning… right?
Yes, time had passed. From the few rays of daylight that slipped through the large slats in the blinds, she could discern the tell-tale signs that it did. Those narrow streams of sunlight highlighted a spot upon the brick wall, and it was enough ambient light to make out the objects within the room. That was if her sore eyes wanted to adjust properly and if her aching brain wanted to work.
Attempting to lift her head, an immense weight and pressure in her brain made what little light still too painfully bright. Instinctively, her eyes shut tight at any chance that they were given until she gave into their desires.
It felt like the hangover from hell, and with a groan, she relaxed back upon the pillow. Her poor eyes burned and ached even under her closed lids. This wouldn't do. Staying in bed was tempting but something within her was prodding for her to get up.
Squinting her eyes open again, she endured the sensitivity until they finally adjusted to the offensive brightness. Turning her head, she tried to make out the various forms and shapes within the room, but her blurry vision couldn't discern exactly what was what. After giving her closed eyes a rub with her palm, she threw her arms to her side before opening them once more.
Those stubborn eyes didn't want to focus, and her numb body didn't want to move. She felt as much part of the bed as the springs within the mattress.
After a sloth-like blink, instead of seeing the blur above, her eyes focused, and she could finally make out the texture of the ceiling. Other details began to catch her eye, except something still wasn't right; further along the wall, the patch of sunlight was now in a different spot.
Time had, once again, passed.
"Uhhnnn… how long was I staring at the ceiling?" With a long groan, she forced herself to sit up.
Still, her head felt like a lead balloon as she rotated it to finally give a proper look around. A fluffy white comforter was bunched around her body, which made it difficult for her to unwrap it off her weak form. It took nearly too much effort to untangle herself from the woven trappings. As she admired the luxurious softness of the fabric, it was then that something dawned on her.
Hold on, this bed… this bed isn't familiar. Where… Wait, when did I fall asleep?
A small knock on the door interrupted her hazy confusion and that was enough to send a flood of memories back with complete clarity.
Tremors vibrated from her core as she remembered why she was in this foreign bed and why she ached through and through. Seizing, a loud sound escaped her throat as a paralysis gained control.
Another knock came from the door, this time it was a little louder and accompanied by a muffled voice that called out her name.
Unsure if she could move, she took a shaky breath, ignoring the horrific memories, and concentrated on the door. When her name was said again, it broke the spell, and she was free. Inhaling and exhaling with a centering purpose, she calmed herself enough to answer.
"Come in." She called out with a wavering voice, still scared of what this new day may have in store for her.
In reply, the door opened slowly, and in stepped Allen. After looking to her, he promptly whipped around to face the opened door and froze to the spot.
"Uh, I made food, that is, if you're hungry." Refusing to face her, he clasped his hands behind his back. "I also wanted to check in and see how you were doing."
It was then that the smell of toast and something else that was delicious, began to waft into the room.
It was now clear why she could not recall much else beyond a few small snippets from last night. After he treated her wounds and she had finished her tea, she was barely able to move from exhaustion. At least she could vaguely remember that she was able to crawl into bed on her own accord.
Hold on… Lydia was confused. Why isn't he looking at me? Do I really look that messed up?
Glancing down, she didn't see anything that would be considered offensive to her. The blanket covered her lower body… except for the rest of her was completely naked.
Shit! I'm naked!
Quickly covering up, she could feel the blush burn in her ears and cheeks. Before addressing him, she gave one last check to make sure that nothing else was visibly indecent.
"Uh, I think I'm hungry but I'm not sure. I'm sorry. You can turn around if you want. I'm covered up now." Bringing her knees up for more coverage, Lydia rested her chin upon them. She was met with a sharp, throbbing reminder of but a fraction of the pain from last night.
Turning slowly, Allen carefully looked upon her as if he was worried that he'd see more again. Satisfied with what he saw, he stepped to the edge of the bed. It was then that she noticed that he was clad in the blood speckled clothes from the night before. Guilt welled up inside of her sore belly. Even before he had the chance to get ready for bed last night, she had taken over his bedroom.
The guilt radiated and burned brighter as the realization absorbed further that she was obviously nothing but an inconvenience. She wanted to disappear, but realistically she couldn't do that, so, instead she turned her head towards the other door which was cracked open. Blankly staring at the bright light that was emanating from it, a fleeting thought passed through her brain as she assumed that it was probably the master bathroom. In her previous visit she didn't have the chance to see where that door had led because it had been closed.
Right now, though, she just couldn't look at him and more than anything, she felt absolutely out of place.
"How are you feeling? You were in rough shape last night, and it has had me concerned. Did you want me to check you over?" His calm voice pressed on, but she was grateful that he made no movement in her direction.
"I think I'm ok, well, at least physically." She quickly mumbled back to him, but her embarrassment had her filled with an overwhelming sense of stupidity.
After letting out a sigh, she slumped forward, and looked up when she felt the mattress give a little as Allen sat down on the foot of the bed. He kept his distance; his body turned slightly in her direction and it was clear that he was there to listen. Although his emotionless eyes watched her, his face was painted with a mask of concern.
Trying to reassure him, she attempted to muster a smile, but it was nearly impossible. No, nothing in her wanted to smile. Everything within her felt heavy. Everything was too heavy, as she fought against the reality of why she was here. Her life right now, felt like this cumbersome nothingness that should have been put in the trash long ago. She was garbage from the moment she strayed from the path that was true.
As he watched her pained face go through each emotion, he made to move, but hesitated halfway to reach out to her. Instead, he settled his hands back onto his lap and continued to watch as she silently submitted to those cloying thoughts.
There were no sounds in the room except for the high-pitched ringing within her ears. In this darkened space, time appeared to be frozen. It was only an illusion… much like what she thought was her life.
When he abruptly stood, Lydia jerked upright, clearly startled to the core, and panted as she clawed the blanket protectively to her body. Taken back by her extreme reaction, he calmly apologized and waited while she relaxed her breathing.
Gifting her a small but reassuring smile, he walked over and opened the tall closet that was to the right of the bedroom's entrance. As he sorted through some things within, that was enough of a distraction to help keep her mind afloat and present.
Turning around with a handful of clothes in his hands, he gently set them upon the comforter. "Here, I have some sweats that you can wear and if you want, you can use my shower. Feel free to use any of my products and toiletries that are in there too."
Blinking back some tears that were threatening to fall, she watched as he opened the other door. Just like she had speculated, it was, indeed, the master bathroom. Feeling stronger than a moment ago, she swallowed down the painful knot in her throat before answering him.
"Thank you. I'll be out in a moment, uh, once I put on my robe and brush my hair… wait, do you maybe have a brush that I can use?" She stared into the bathroom as, once again, the crushing realization hit her, that the only possessions that she currently had was nothing more than her robe and car keys.
Noticing her face pale, he redirected her lost eyes to him with a comforting expression and smile as he adjusted his footing.
"I do. Here, I'll put it on the counter for you. Please let me know if you need anything else." Walking into the bathroom, she saw him open a drawer and pull out a brush and set it upon the counter.
When he returned, his face was placid as he paused by the closet to quietly observe her. She could feel his eyes analyze her, scanning over her every detail, and it made her feel like she was once again naked.
"If you do choose to shower, be sure to remove the bandages but please don't scrub or touch the wound. Just let the water rinse over it on its own." He gesticulated before he motioned to a spot in the bathroom. "There is a clean robe that is hanging by the shower that you can use. When you're done, I'll properly clean and redress your knees."
Pausing, he waited for a verbal or non-verbal affirmation. Forcing a nod, her lips parted like they were sticky with glue from being dehydrated and no words could come out.
Satisfied, he took another step toward the door but stopped when he spied something.
"Oh, speaking of robes, would you like me to wash yours?" He motioned to her dressing gown, saturated with dried blood and dirt, that she had sloppily discarded on the floor alongside of the bed.
"I, I guess. Thank you." Just the sight of the filthy garb awoke the stabs of pain within her stomach from the turmoil within her soul.
Unable to bear the shame, Lydia leaned forward and hid her face within the tangled mess of hair that draped around her. Her ears became hyper aware of the soft footfalls that trailed to the side of the bed before they turned back and then the subtle click of the door as it closed behind him.
Emboldened by the silence, she peeked out from her mess of hair to find that she was alone in this lonesome feeling bedroom. Ignoring the constant but dull pains that throbbed through her body, she plopped back upon the bed and released a long and hard sigh.
Why does living actually hurt? What in the hell am I supposed to do now?
Rubbing her cheek upon the soft white fabric of the comforter she closed her eyes. The silence was an empty comfort, but she knew it wouldn't be long before her memories decided to strike an ambush on her at any moment's notice. Letting her body relax and become heavier, she couldn't shake how alien she felt in this place that wasn't her own.
I might as well do what I can to survive… at least for now. I can't look back; those days are gone. Right? After all that's happened, I'm sure Allen won't let me stay here.
Hefting herself up, she twisted her body to dangle her feet off the side of the bed. Just from that little bit of movement, her weak limbs buzzed while it immediately felt harder for her to breathe. When the dizziness lessened, she forced herself to stand but was instantly met with a million little pinpricks upon the pads of her feet. Biting her lip, she moved forward. Although she willed each filthy foot to press on, she didn't feel like she was the one in control.
Standing in front of the mirror, she was immediately repulsed by the person in the reflection. A stranger stared back at her with puffy, sunken eyes, and a pale, tear stained, and filthy face. The rats-nest of black hair would have been impressive if it had not been clear that it wasn't just tears that were matted in those snarled locks.
"Oh gods… I can't be seen like this... wait... Fuuuuuck meeeee with a chainsaw." She groaned to the ceiling.
She didn't know if it was from embarrassment or guilt that slapped her across the face. She had to do something about this mess since she currently couldn't do a thing about the other messes in her life. This sort of deep cleaning was going to take a while.
Poking her head out of the bedroom door, she listened to the sounds of pans clanking together within the kitchen. Clearing her throat, she mustered a voice even though she would have rather poofed away forever.
"Uh, Allen?" She paused, but the sounds from the other room continued. Not wanting to lose momentum, she pressed forward. "On second thought, I'm going to shower first and then I'll be out."
The sounds halted and a small wave of relief went through her when she heard him say ok in reply.
.
.
The moment that her eyes fell upon it, she was both confused and blown away by his master bathroom, but more importantly by his shower.
The large, glass enclosure could have comfortably packed ten people within it. Yet, upon the marble walls and ceiling, there were many different shower heads of varying sizes with a few accompanying levers. Her eyes darted around to each chromed piece, confusing her with what would do what or how to even turn it on. Never in her life did she imagine that she would be intimidated by a shower.
Should I ask Allen how it works? No, I really don't want him to see me in this bright light. He'd probably call animal control on me.
Resolved to figure it out on her own, and spare herself more embarrassment, Lydia began to look for the biggest dial that she could only assume would be the main one.
A deluge of hot water streamed and pulsated upon her poor body. The deep ache within her muscles was slowly beginning to fade as the water massaged her pain away. While the physical pain was one thing, the emotional pain was still a fresh and gaping wound.
What was it about taking a shower when you feel terrible, that made your emotions feel as naked and exposed as you are?
She didn't want to cry. No, she didn't want to cry! Nooo… why am I crying? Shoving her face into the waterfall-like streams, she let it steal away the fresh tears and warm her poor, sore eyes.
With a warbly, concealed cry, she gave the water full permission to wash away every bit of her. No longer caring, her deep, woeful cries echoed back to her from inside the steamy enclosure and in that moment, she felt so very alone.
.
.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, Lydia gripped the borrowed robe tighter before she entered the main living space. The tell-tale sound of a washing machine came from somewhere unknown as she moved towards the U-shaped kitchen countertops. When Allen stepped out an open doorway that was adjacent to the wall of warehouse windows, he spotted her and noticed her hesitation to move any further.
"Are you ready for me to dress your knees?"
Nodding mutely, she gripped her sides and looked away.
Situated upon the couch as she was the night before, she waited as he organized the various medical items on the coffee table next to his cellphone.
"At first glance, this seems to have a nice color to it but," Squinting, he leaned in to visually examined the exposed wounds before focusing on her right knee to gently prod it. "I'm going to clean it ag…"
The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his examination, and with a sigh, he quietly lifted the phone and silenced it. Sitting up, Lydia curiously watched on as he returned it back to its previous spot upon the coffee table. From her vantage, she could see the notification of eleven missed calls from a number that she didn't recognize. When he gave her a quick glance, she redirected her eyes forward as he rotated back into position to focus upon the task at hand.
"As I was saying, I'm going to clean it again. We don't want this to get infected." Seemingly unbothered, he calmly explained while adjusting in closer to look at her other knee. Carefully giving the skin near the wound a gentle pinch, he noticed her tense up and attempt to hide her discomfort. "When was the last time that you had a tetanus shot?"
"I don't remember." Leaning back, Lydia readjusted the robe to cover herself better as she did so.
"I see. I think…" Once again, his phone lit up and began to buzz upon the coffee table. Sitting up straight, Allen directed his attention back to the phone as Lydia sat up as well.
"You can answer it if you need to. It might be important." Noticing that it was still the same number, she gestured toward the buzzing phone.
The expression that he gave her was incredibly hard to read. There were no emotional clues to fill her into his thoughts as he looked at her and then back to the phone. Lifting then unlocking the phone, he flashed another unreadable look that left her feeling empty.
"Dichter." He answered, standing up before turning to walk towards the tall wall of bookshelves.
Eavesdropping felt wrong, but she couldn't help it as he paced within the room and spoke to some unknown person.
"I'm sorry. I won't be able to come in until my scheduled time. Yes, that's at 4:25 tomorrow morning." Running his gloved hand through his hair, he paused and blankly stared at the many books that he owned. Mindlessly moving a small antique bowl over an inch, he listened to the person on the other end of the line. "Why? Sharma, Patel, and Jones are currently on call. What? More? Look, I am unable to come in right now. I have a personal issue that I'm dealing with. Yes. Yes, that works. Alright, I'll be in at 2am instead. Yes, thank you. Goodbye."
Shoving the phone in his back pocket of his black slacks, he shook his head in frustration before returning to his place in front of Lydia.
Silently, he changed his gloves and began to clean one of her knees as Lydia was left unsure of what to say.
"Was that your work?" She meekly inquired as his focused eyes followed his fast movements.
"Yes, that was the hospital." He curtly replied as he began to tightly wrap up her knee. "I will need to go in earlier than I was supposed to."
"Oh." Instantly she felt in the way as he turned his attention to her other knee. As he sprayed it, she felt compelled to ask him a question. "Are you, are you upset at me?"
Stopping everything, with a look of confusion he turned his face towards hers before he answered.
"No. Why do you ask that? Do I look angry?"
"It's just, I'm not sure how you're feeling right now and I… I…" A fragility of her words carried her worries forward as she took in a breath to keep the tears from rising.
Seeing her about to crumble, he leaned forward without touching and met her eyes with his. Without breaking eye-contact, he relaxed his brow and spoke reassuringly.
"I'm not angry nor upset at you in any way. I'm sorry if that is how I came off. I was just trying to hurry so you didn't have to sit here for too long. I understand that you're uncomfortable, especially since you're only in a robe and probably want to change into some clothes as soon as possible."
It was true. She didn't like how exposed she had been feeling. Nodding her head, she bit her lower lip and waited for him to continue.
Softening his features, he worked on her other knee but this time his demeanor seemed lighter as he began to make conversation. She knew that he was only filling the space with words, but it did give her some comfort.
"The hospital called and asked for me to come in. It appears that the insanity from last night hasn't slowed down. We are still getting an influx of patients from the other nearby hospitals."
"Did something happen?" Tilting her head, Lydia watched as he grabbed and unrolled some of the purple bandage.
Stopping, he sat up to answer her question.
"Yes. That was the reason that I came home so late last night." Before she could inquire further, he answered her. "I'm going to assume that you haven't heard about what happened."
Staring at him, she was at a loss, and her blank expression prompted him to explain further.
"Early yesterday evening, the hospital started to receive reports that there might have been some sort of possible terrorist activity in Hartford. It's not confirmed or official but according to many of the first responders, they said that parts of the city resembled a war zone. From one of the worst multiple car accidents on the freeway that they have ever seen, to the immense damage around the city; it has led some of them to assume that it was caused by possible missile fire, and others were speculating that it was from a falling meteor."
A cold rush ran through Lydia's soul as a horrible suspicion began to rise within her as he continued.
"Now, that is all conjecture and there have been many rumors that we've heard in the hospital, so it's hard to know what the truth is. The only hard facts that I have is the influx of patients, and it can only speak of the severity of the situation; especially since the hospitals surrounding Hartford were forced to assign overflow here to the Providence hospital." Sitting up, he cut the bandage and affixed it, before turning to put his equipment and supplies away into a nearby medical satchel.
After a glance over his shoulder, he noticed Lydia's look of disbelief. Turning back to his satchel he attempted to ease her mood.
"I'm sure that you know how people generally like to speculate and make up stories of the fantastical to make sense of things that they can't fully understand. In fact, the strangest thing happened right before I was about to leave; there was an injured doctor being admitted that the nurses were unable to restrain. Only I could get near enough to sedate and treat his wounds. As I was doing so, he was raving about a monster. To keep him present, I asked him to explain to me what had transpired."
The silence compelled Allen to continue. "He said that "the monster" had appeared when he attempted to assist the first responders on the scene of a car crash. I suspect that it was from shock, that he claimed that it possessed him. It was then that he said it took him somewhere else before it finally attacked." Closing the satchel, he set it upon the coffee table, then gathered up the few bits of scattered trash to throw away. As he stood up, he gave another passing glance to Lydia before he froze.
All of the color within Lydia's face was gone while her haunted, wide eyes stared out, completely lost within the nothing.
Dropping down, Allen examined her eyes, and gently patted her cheek while calling her name.
Blinking, Lydia's eyes turned to meet his as her mouth opened as she tried to speak.
"Did… he say, say what the monster looked like?" Her numbed words were barely audible as her breathing became shallower while she spoke.
"No, he didn't say before the sedatives kicked in. Honestly, don't take it to heart. People imagine and say a lot of strange things when they're in shock. Lydia, how are you feeling? Do you feel dizzy? Are you seeing any lights or spots?" Holding her shoulders, he watched her every reaction as he waited for her answer.
Shaking her head to say no, she gently pushed his hands off her and silently stood up. Taking a few steps back, he gave her space as she began to walk away and head for the hallway.
"Lydia?" He called out, prompting her to stop and numbly turn ever so slightly to listen to him. Choosing his words carefully, he took a few steps closer to her. "Were you in one of the accidents last night or did…"
Immediately turning around, she halted any further questions as she walked back to the bedroom.
.
.
Opening the fridge and retrieving the glass decanter of orange juice, Allen set it down upon the counter behind him. As he was about to pour it into one of the waiting glasses, he discovered Lydia, now wearing his gray sweatshirt and sweatpants, shyly stepping into the room. From her eyes, reflected the depth of pain that she was fighting in her heart, but when she met his, she tried to smile to change the mood.
"Hey. Go ahead and sit down at the table next to the window." He smiled in return while pointing to the long and narrow table that was abutted to one of the large factory windows. "Just relax, and I'll bring the food on over. I just have to take it out of the oven where I have been keeping it warm."
Nodding, she couldn't tell if he had even noticed that she had been crying again. Maybe he was just being nice by not saying anything? Surely he must have heard me.
Sitting down upon the bar stool at the table, she forced her mind to focus on her surroundings instead of the thoughts that wanted to take over. Looking to her right, she could now see that the door that was to the left of the kitchen was a laundry room. On the left in the petite room were French Doors that led out to a small patio while on the right was the washer and dryer and an open-faced closet. She spied her now-clean robe hanging to dry within it.
A plate was slid in front of her and she stared at it for a moment. There on the warmed dish, was a large fluffy omelet with a side of toast. From the delicious aroma alone, her stomach growled in approval and let her know that it was more than ready to eat.
"Eet smakelijk!" Allen stated as he sat on the barstool next to her while placing two glasses of orange juice by their plates.
With a nod, Lydia thanked him in reply as those familiar words that he spoke stirred up the sentimental dust within her.
Folding her hands into her lap, she bowed her head and watched the steam rise from the food in front of her. An air of awkwardness, anticipation, embarrassment, and anxiety wouldn't go away and hung heavily around her.
Stealing a glance to the man beside her, she observed his mannerisms as his eyes followed something beyond the window's glass. Here, he was still a stranger to her but somehow he was also the same person that she had once known. Uncertainty coursed through her as she sat, feeling fully aware of the world around her. It felt like all eyes were on her, questioning her every decision, and damning her for the choices that she had made. What sort of cruel gods of fate thought that her life was something to toy with? Once again feeling eyes on her, she refocused her vision and found him watching and waiting for her to eat before he started on his own plate.
"Your shower is nice… it took me forever to figure it out though." Unsure of what to say she let the first thing she thought of come out.
There was something about this moment that felt "normal" but also somehow very shaming. Still, she needed to make conversation and fill the empty space with words. Picking up her fork, she wanted to talk about anything except for what her mind was constantly assaulting her with.
"Oh, het spijt me, er, I'm sorry. I should have realized that I needed to show you how to use it first. It didn't even cross my mind since I'm used to it. I remember how confusing it was in the beginning. I honestly should have thought about that." He apologetically looked over to her and set his fork down.
"No, it's ok. I could have asked too." Shaking her head, she began to use her fork to cut up the omelet while blankly staring at her food again.
Even though she wanted to make conversation, she also wanted to avoid eye contact at all cost. His lifeless eyes were a hard reminder of her past sins. As she heard him begin to dig in, she pondered further.
Watching the city skyline outside the window, she wondered if anyone else noticed how dull his eyes were. Those once gray-blue irises that she used to get lost in were now nothing more than a cold gray, much like the heavy clouds that are in the sky.
How late was it anyways? By now, it had to have been afternoon. The sunny day had turned overcast and now the clouds looked like they could burst with snow. So much for an early spring, she sighed.
Regarding her food, she impaled a chunk of the fluffy egg with her fork. I might as well try to eat it while it's warm. It does smell delightful.
"This is really delicious." Her mouth was bursting with different complimentary flavors from the egg, cheese, paprika and rosemary.
"Thanks." She heard him hurriedly reply between bites.
Stopping, she noted how he appeared to be incredibly hungry. As she watched, he put a portion of egg onto his toast and ate it quickly in large bites. His actions were of a person that was starving, and she could only hope that he had been eating well.
She couldn't help the worry for him as she tried to gauge his overall health. After all these years, even though he had grown taller, he was still thin. Although he wasn't nearly as tall as his Opa, she could see that he had a little more of a resemblance to his grandfather's build. Even when they were together, she had always wondered if he had taken after his mother or father, but she didn't dare ask him because it was such a sensitive topic.
Analyzing his face, she noted that his nose, eyes, and face were definitely not any Dichter traits that his grandparents had. There was no way for her to compare his parents features to his. For all of those years that they had been together, Allen had never introduced them to her, spoke of them, nor were there any pictures of them. In fact, Allen never did explain what had happened or why he had lived with Oma and Opa. She had always held out hope that he would share that part of him that he had kept hidden. After all, long ago he had promised her that one day he was going to explain it all.
It was then that he had caught her staring, and he stopped eating to question her without words.
"Oh, sorry, it's just, you eat so fast. You must have been hungry and here I kept you waiting for so long. I'm sorry." Turning back to her food, she slouched forward before she continued to eat even through the dragging guilt that pulled on her.
As he took a drink of his orange juice, he was unable to answer her, but when he did, he straightened up to face her.
"I'm so sorry. Was it bothering you? I wasn't aware of it. I can only guess that I eat so quickly because of my job. You see, when I'm at work, I never know when I'm going to be paged for an emergency. I've been pulled away from too many uneaten meals because of it." She could hear his apologetic tone as he poked at the plate with his fork.
"No, I was just noticing it… that's all." Lifting an elbow onto the table, she rested her chin in her palm. Even though she wanted more of her meal, she didn't feel like she could eat anything else.
As he resumed eating, she couldn't understand why her appetite decided to leave like it did. In fact, her stomach was now becoming very unhappy that there was food in it.
Closing her eyes, she attempted to still the dizzying feeling that rocked within her head. Yet, instead of finding comfort, unwelcome memories from last night began to forcefully flash in like visions.
Breaking through the static, Beetlejuice's venomous voice pierced into her soul again.
"Seems like you spread your legs for any guy that gives you an ounce of attention!" As her stomach painfully tightened, she fought against any visual clues that could give away the turmoil that was battering down her defenses.
Gently laying down the fork, she straightened, but her stomach wanted to revolt, as more memories came flashing back. "Admit it... You wanted to fuck me! We only HAD to do it once! Every time you were near me you were like a bitch in heat. You made it SO EASY for me!"
Standing, she wavered for a split second before she dashed away to the guest bathroom, covering her mouth and willing that nothing would come up. In the small dark room, she hovered over the toilet as a cold wave rushed through her face yet beads of sweat formed while she panted into the clean and pristine porcelain bowl.
"DON'T YOU GET IT? YOU ARE MINE! NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO FUCKING COME BETWEEN US! I WILL KILL ANYONE WHO DOES! YOU BETTER BELIEVE I WILL AND NO ONE, NOT EVEN YOU SWEETHEART, CAN STOP ME!"
As her stomach emptied violently, her body uncontrollably shook as she gripped the sides of the cold porcelain. Gasping for air, she felt another terrible wave force through her before she heaved once again.
How many times did she repeat the process until her body finally decided to be done? How many times did it continue even long after she had nothing left to purge? Her throat burned, her eyes ached, and her nose stung as she held her head still, spitting out as much of that thick saliva that coated her tongue.
Finally, able to lift her head, she sniffled, trying to stop her runny nose, as she weakly sat up while her head painfully throbbed from the pressure.
Never was she more thankful for the blessed mouthwash that she found by the sink as she gargled that vile flavor away. Repeating the process, she needed to rid herself of any remaining disgusting aftertaste. Yet, as she did so, she felt completely exposed, vulnerable, and scared of what would be awaiting her after all of this was said and done.
Spitting one last time, she lifted her tired, bloodshot eyes to the mirror. A large part of her was terrified that she would see her husband murderously looking back. In fact, she swore that she could feel him there within that cold, hard glass, and that was the last thing she wanted.
Thankfully, there were only two reflections to be seen; hers and Allen's, who was leaning on the doorway, arms folded, and observing her with those darkened hawk-like eyes.
"Are you sure that you're ok?" He asked in a lowered tone, examining her and the room from afar, but thankfully she didn't feel like he was being intrusive.
Uncertainty was hers and she didn't know how to answer his question.
Nothing about me is fucking ok… no, not even close. Everything in me wants to go jump off the rooftop. Damnit… no. I can't, no, won't do that. Stupid fucking impulses, stupid fucking thoughts, stupid, stupid, stupid! I'm so fucking stupid! I want all this pain to end!
After a few minutes of unanswered silence, Allen's expression never changed, even after he mutely turned away and disappeared into the dimly lit hallway.
Standing alone in the dark, she wobbled forward a few steps to rest her head on the door's frame. From there, she could see down the hallway as he walked towards the kitchen before he turned out of sight.
What in the world could he be thinking? Was he angry with me? I can't read him at all anymore. He's probably thinking something like: "Gee, how'd I get stuck with this fucking pain in the ass again? Didn't I get rid of this cheating whore before?" It's obvious that I'm a burden and he doesn't want me here. I'll need to leave as soon as I can. Oh gods, I don't even know how I'll be able to talk to him after all of this. Well, even if I did, I doubt he'd want to talk to me. He's too polite for his own good. I just wish he would tell me off.
Accepting the shame, she shuffled down the hallway and readied herself for the inevitable.
Instead of him telling her to scram, she found him busy cleaning up the dishes in the sink. Even more to her surprise, he gave her a small smile.
"There's some acid reducer in the medicine chest. I recommend taking it so that it will help ease your stomach pains. Just make sure that you drink a lot of water with it. Let me know whenever you're ready and I'll be happy to make you something else that's lighter to eat." He kindly explained as he scrubbed the plate before dipping it into the clean water.
Unsure how to feel about his reaction, she sought out comfort as she sat upon the couch. Watching him wash the dishes, her eyes became heavy, and even though she knew better, her body was screaming that she didn't get any sleep. Her head bobbed, and she forced herself upright to pay attention in an attempt to keep herself in a wakeful state.
Keeping her mind busy, she looked to her left, and noticed the blankets that were neatly folded. There, on top of the organized pile, was the fluffy throw blanket that she had on last night. Immediately she wanted to be covered by it again. No, it was more of a need than it was a desire. She remembered its warmth, its comfort, and the way it enveloped her. She couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed and hyper-aware of her state of vulnerability. There was too much uncertainty in her life and there was nothing left to hold on to keep herself grounded.
Her fate was up in the air and she was nothing more than a compass that was spinning wildly about in a circle.
Tucking it around her body, she felt the hint of safety that eased enough of her soul to lean back and lazily watch Allen clean. She needed to analyze everything and anything that could clue her in to what he could be thinking, especially his opinion of her. As she did, she noticed some familiar little things that he was doing, and it brought forth a slew of hazy memories. Even after all these years, she noticed how there were some little quirks that didn't change; like, how he used to clean whenever he was thinking on something very deeply or was possibly upset.
Wait, he used to clean a lot and often. If I remember correctly, he never did like to be dirty, did he? The realization dawned on her when she thought over all the obsessive tendencies that he seemed to have… wait, didn't he say that about himself before? I don't clearly recall. Why didn't I notice it before?
As her tired eyes watched him dry his hands on the dishtowel, he turned and looked directly at her. Her body locked up from the directness when he addressed her.
"If it's ok with you, I'm going to go take a shower? I shouldn't be long." He asked as he hung the hand towel over the handle of the stove.
"Of course, I don't see why the hell you couldn't. After all, it IS your place." She replied curtly, before trying to hide the surprise at the sudden snark that had popped out of her.
.
.
By the time Allen returned to the living room, he was feeling much more human-ish than he had in a while. His mind had been going on overdrive since he had found her in the parking lot last night.
He wasn't sure how today was going to go, and so, he had decided to do his best to make her feel comfortable.
It was clear that something big had happened to her directly. People don't just show up a mostly naked, blubbering mess, in the middle of a near-freezing night. On top of it, it didn't appear to be related to any of the events that had happened in Hartford, but he couldn't rule that out quite yet. He needed more information.
Maybe there was something else that he was missing? Some other reason that would explain why she is in this current state. Lydia wasn't the type to take drugs, was she? When they were young, she never seemed to be interested, even when he would offer her one of his joints. Sure, in college they used to drink together but she never took it that far. In fact, there was nothing about her last night to show evidence that she was under the influence of any drugs or alcohol. Then again, he didn't know that much about her anymore. In the end, there was nothing more that he could do for her as a doctor.
No, the most that he could deduce was that she appeared to be in a lot of pain and shock. There had been a few times that he had wished for his empathy back and this was one of them. For now, he was stumped. He had no clue what was going on with her or how to even help without her telling him.
The only conclusion that he could surmise was that she had run away from something… or someone. He wasn't going to assume anything, but he did notice a tell-tale deep bruise on her arm.
As his eyes fell upon her, he found that she still hadn't moved from the spot that she was in before his shower. Fast asleep, she was stretched along the couch, the blanket had partially covered her head, and her arm that she rested on was stuck out and exposed. Deciding to take a closer look without being intrusive, he felt the need to find any more clues to better understand the situation and how to help her.
Quietly leaning forward, he was pleased that the exposed arm happened to be the one that he needed to examine. Sure enough, it was a very aggravated bruise, which was one that he had seen many times in his field. How he wished that she would allow him to study it better, but in her current state she appeared to be too emotionally fragile for him to take that liberty.
In the hopes to find anything else to make sense of things before he could make any judgements, his eyes scrutinized over any other exposed parts of her body. If only he could give her a full physical. No, if only she would talk to him, but he wasn't going to push her. It was apparent that she already was under a lot of pressure.
Scanning once again for anything else that he may have missed, he could not find any other evidence that he could visibly see that would point to abuse. Even from the quick, but accidental glance that he had of her naked, there didn't appear to be any other bruising or trauma. Although, it wasn't very well lit in the room, so he couldn't rule anything else that may have been hidden. The only other thing that stood out in his memory were the deep gouges that were on her knees, but those looked fresh and could have happened when she had fallen in the parking lot.
Once more, his eyes fell upon the bruise. Releasing a sigh, he closed his eyes and let any suspicion go. If anything had happened, he needed for her to tell him. Opening his eyes, they trailed up her pale arm until he finally looked upon her face and discovered that she was cautiously watching him. While she didn't look upset, he couldn't help thinking that she resembled a wild rabbit hoping not to be seen.
Again, this was a time that he longed for his abilities.
"I'm sorry, I saw your bruise and I was concerned that maybe something bad had happened. Lydia, I need to ask you something…" Sitting upon the coffee table, he waited for her answer.
The moment that he brought up his question, she quickly sat up with a look of worry and covered up.
"What is it?" She hesitantly asked in return as she gripped the blanket.
Tenting his hands together, Allen rested them by his lips for a moment before he began. She could tell that he was thinking on how to word what he was going to say.
Sitting forward, she prepared for the worst.
"Do you feel safe at home? If you don't… you can stay here for as long as you need. I need to make sure that you're safe." Putting his hands between his legs, he watched for her answer.
Visibly surprised, she lowered her head as she processed his question.
"That, that wasn't what I thought you were going to ask me." Looking back to him, she shook her head. "I don't know… honestly, but… it's not what you're assuming." She gripped at the dark gray sweatpants that she wore; it was clear that she was worried that he'd press her for more information.
"Alright." With a nod, Allen backed off and stood up without taking his eyes off her.
She was so weak today and didn't know how much more questioning she could handle, let alone share. Closing her eyes, Lydia lowered her head and let the pain sink in before a sound in the kitchen prompted her to see what was going on.
Out of her view, she could hear Allen digging under the kitchen sink before he popped back up and set out a few items for cleaning. Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed a spray bottle and a cleaning rag before he disappeared down the hallway.
.
.
No sooner did Allen leave to shower Lydia rested her body down upon the couch and closed her eyes. It didn't take long before she had found herself caught in a dreamlike darkness. Perhaps to some, it might have been considered sleep, but she didn't know if it did. Yet, when she had awoken, it didn't feel like she had slept at all.
As her eyes focused, she was startled to discover that Allen was leaning in closely over her. The paralysis from the shock left her feeling unable to do anything except watch what he would do next.
In this vulnerable state, there was no telling what he may do to her nor did she know what the man was capable of anymore. Giving in to whatever would happen and feeling completely worthless, she relaxed her body but never took her eyes off him. Instead of him being devious, she was surprised to find that he had wanted to see if she was ok and question her.
Or maybe that was the excuse that he had to come up with to hide his true intentions.
No, she didn't want to be questioned nor have the energy, but she couldn't fully deny her host. She felt obligated, although she didn't know just how much to reveal about what had transpired the previous night. Then just as quick as it had begun, the intense moment between them had ended, and he carried on like there was nothing more to it.
After watching him disappear to go clean, an overwhelming numbness overtook Lydia's body. Maybe it was because she was feeling utterly overwhelmed or maybe it was because she couldn't process what had just happened?
Surely, he wanted to ask me more than just that. Who asks just a single question and doesn't prod for more after all that I said… or didn't say? Maybe he gave up? Perhaps he just doesn't care or isn't really that interested in my life? Then why is he being so nice to me? The offer to stay is appealing but why would he want me here? He doesn't gain anything if I stay. No, there must be some sort of catch. There is always a catch. Does he want revenge? I hope that he isn't expecting anything out of me. Is this one of those "nice guy" moves where he will expect me to sleep with him because of all that he does for me?
Balling her fist while tightly closing her eyes, she grimaced as she pulled it closer to press it hard against her forehead.
Or Lydia you stupid fucking idiot, maybe he's being a nice person because he's actually one.
When did this happen? Am I really that jaded? I mean, if Allen is anything like how he used to be, he wouldn't expect anything from me. Especially something like that. Still, I really don't know him anymore. I really don't know what to think.
The sound of a toilet flushing followed by a sink running pulled on her ears and made her pay attention. A spritzing noise was quickly replaced by a repetitive squeaking on glass, clued her in on which room Allen was currently cleaning.
Gods, has being with Beetlejuice this long made it completely normal to assume that someone else in that situation would automatically do something perverted or worse? After all, Beej would have had his way with me if I were laying like that. Is that normal? Beetlejuice is my husband so of course that's fine, but would Allen do anything like that?
Sluggishly sitting up, Lydia turned her head and watched Allen exit the guest bathroom and return some of the items to the kitchen. It wasn't long before he began to thoroughly dust the large bookshelf. Not once did he look in her direction and that opened the door for a strange hollowness to grow in her heart.
I don't know anymore. How could I forget that not everyone works like BJ and people like Allen and his grandparents still exist? Where is the girl who I used to be? I miss her more than ever.
I used to be so strong. Then again, maybe I never was.
Once again, Allen was at the kitchen sink and washing his hands. For some reason she couldn't stop watching him. Each shallow breath that she took felt forced but at least her mind began to still. There was something comforting about watching him do these mundane tasks.
To her shock, he lifted his head and looked directly at her. Shooting her vision down to her lap she wanted to do anything to avoid contact with his eyes. Giving her a quick but soft smile, he moved to the bookshelf. Daring to watch him again, she saw him pull out a book that looked very familiar. In fact, she recognized it as his favorite, the one that he used to read all the time.
Sitting down in one of the matching cream-colored armchairs, he opened it up and began to read. As she watched him, she found herself confounded at the mystery of who he was anymore. She could only remember a small majority of things from their past, but she couldn't read him at all now. Lydia used to know the meaning behind his every quirk, twitch, scratch, snicker, look, and habit, but now she couldn't even read the simplest of his actions.
It was nothing more than a dead language to her, and she was certain that it was for him too.
"Mind if I put on the stereo?" He asked, looking over his book and eyeing her. Quickly nodding a yes in reply, she tried to not let the surprise show.
Fidgeting her fingers together, the click of the stereo made her anxious for some reason. As classical music began to fill the room, Lydia nervously twirled her simple wedding band on her finger. Immediately she recognized the song that had begun to play. It was Vivaldi's 'Storm' and in that very moment, it so strongly mirrored the emotions that were within her heart.
Did Allen choose this song on purpose or is it some sort of odd happenstance?
As the melody began, it soaked into her skin, coming on stronger than she could ever remember it to be. She was not prepared in the least. Wave, after crashing wave of fervent violins harkened a warning of something dangerous that was fast approaching, while a perilous underlying energy built up with the strength of a tsunami. Instead of impatiently crashing forward, a single violin stepped forth, holding the flag high for all to see, before sounding the charge to lead the other stringed instruments on to finally overwhelm and consume the room.
With every bow's tug, she could physically feel as if it was part of her, moving her back and forth like she was a kite on a string. For a split second, the music broke and the thin chord was cut, along with her one and only connection to earth. Suddenly she was left free falling, out of control, and smashing into the ocean. With a resounding splash, she was sucked into a large swirling whirlpool, spiraling, gasping for air, and not knowing which way was up.
When those final somber notes pulled her down to her doom, tears that she didn't even know she was capable of making anymore, began to trace down her cheeks.
Overwhelmed, her lungs filled with the briny-water, as she helplessly sunk further into the dark, cold, and crushing embrace of the sea floor.
It was too much. She had to escape and before she could comprehend what she was doing, she was slamming the bedroom door behind her. Sinking to the floor, she pressed and leaned against the door as her sorrow overtook her.
After a soft knock vibrated the door, she couldn't speak… No, she didn't want to speak but a different sound of pain escaped her mouth and betrayed the need to not be heard or found.
Allen stood in the dark hallway and stared at the door. Listening to the door move from her spasms as she tried to control her sobbing, he understood enough that her cries were heartbreaking, if he could even feel that anymore...
"Lydia? Is there anything that I can do for you?" He asked as he rested his head on the door while hoping that she would answer.
From the other side he heard an elongated, alien sounding whine and that was his only answer.
Wondering if he should knock again, he held his knuckle against the door but let it drop to his side. If there was an emergency, he knew that he couldn't force the door open because she was pressed against the other side. In this moment, he was left unsure of the best way to help her.
With a sigh, he turned, pressing his back to the door, and slid down to sit on the floor. Eyeing the door handle he thought over what he could do. If anything, he'd keep an eye on her. He had no clue what she was going through. He was terrible with dealing with emotions. He had always been. He had blundered through his teen years fumbling with emotions that he could barely handle, until he thought that he was getting the hang of it. Of course, that was only after he met her, and she had begun to help him better understand them. And then, after her, there was nothing. So, how could he understand emotions anymore?
.
.
Hours had slipped away from Lydia as she cried her soul out before she couldn't muster anymore sound. Her heart just couldn't handle much more. She didn't know anything anymore. Her world wasn't just turned upside down, it was inverted, foreign, and made as much sense as a Picasso painting.
No… maybe I'm wrong. I must have blown this out of proportion. Maybe Beetlejuice is right… he didn't do anything wrong. It had to have been me, right? I've been wrong before and Beetlejuice has always been there for me. I mean, whenever we've gotten into fights… he's always forgiven me. After all, I'm usually hot headed, start fights, and he's only punished me when I deserved it.
Gripping her legs tighter, her chest ached, and her throat burned. As she did so, a throbbing pain went through her arm and pulled her worn-out eyes toward something in particular.
No. I'm mistaken… no. I can go home, and he will… he will… things will be good… Beej, he, he, he has always helped me understand things better. He saved me. He's done so much for me…
A hard lump began to form in her throat and made it painful to swallow. Flashes from the night before intruded and confused her even more.
He… he loves me. He wouldn't trick me. I'm the only person he's ever trusted. I'm the only person who… No, I couldn't have fallen for anything like that. He wouldn't have lied to me like he does for everyone else… I, I deserved it. I shouldn't have been talking to another guy, even if Allen is harmless. That's right, it's my fault. Yes. I deserve it.
Tremors began to surface from her belly and spread to the rest of her body as she thought over more.
He's… no. No… he admitted it. Right? He called me a… No. No, he's been good to me when I listen to him. It's my fault that he… he… Oh Gods… Why? Whyyyyyy? Why did he do this!? He said I was special… the only special thing… Why was he being so horrible!? He did all that… I'm not remembering wrong. Right?
Flopping her legs forward, she leaned back against the door. Her body, soul, and mind were too tired to think any more. Her whole being wanted to just give up but there was a restlessness under the surface.
I don't want to sit here anymore. My ass hurts and I want to move around a little but… I don't want to be seen. Wait, I haven't heard anything for a while so maybe…
Lifting her head, she strained her ears to listen for any sign of movement but there was nothing to hear but silence.
I think I heard him leave but did I imagine it? Besides, I doubt that anyone would want to stick around and hear how pathetic I am.
No, I can't sit here any longer. I need to do something and sitting here is not helping me one bit. Maybe moving around can help me think clearer.
Adjusting herself, she carefully stood up, but as she did so, her vision went white and everything around felt wobbly. Quickly grabbing the closet for support, she recognized the signs that she needed to eat something.
This always happens when I don't eat. Gods, I really, really, don't want to be seen. I pray to all things natural that he is gone.
Fuck, Lydia! How rude can you be! Here I am hoping that he'll leave his own place just so I can be alone. I'm just the worst!
Leaning forward, she pressed her ear to the door and listened, but the silence was her only answer.
Maybe there was still some omelet left? Ugh, maybe not that. Toast sounded better.
Rubbing her eyes, she steadied herself before slowly cracking the door open and peering down the hallway.
Oh good, it looks like there's no one here.
"Is there anything that I can get for you?" Allen inquired, watching her carefully from his position upon the floor just outside of the door.
"HOLY FUCKING FUCK!" Flailing, Lydia grabbed the door frame with one hand to keep from falling backwards while clutching at her chest with the other. "I thought, thought… you left."
As he stood up to meet her, he watched as she struggled to calm down.
"Did you want me to leave?" He cautiously asked and in reply she shamefully looked away from him.
Gods, I do but I don't. I dunno what to say. The thought of being alone doesn't sound as appealing anymore.
"No." She quietly answered while slowly lifting her head to finally look at him.
Stepping to the side to move out of the way, he waited to see what she wanted to do next.
Moving past him, she stopped and suddenly her heart lurched as she spun back and put her arms around him.
I don't deserve any of this kindness. Why is he being so nice to someone as awful as me?
Noticing that he made no move to even touch her, she quickly let go and hastily walked down the hallway to head to the main room. Her cheeks were warm as she fought against the embarrassment and shame that she felt growing within her.
"Are you maybe hungry or thirsty?" She heard him ask as he softly trailed behind her.
"Yes." She nodded as she stepped into the kitchen, but he quickly directed her back to the couch again.
"Here, let me get it. Why don't you just stay as comfortable as you can." Standing back, he watched for her answer, but thankfully she silently complied without any protest.
.
.
Dipping the last of her toast into the creamy red tomato soup, Lydia gave it a little stir before putting it into her mouth. This seemed to be sitting better in her stomach and, thank goodness she didn't feel any hint of nausea.
During this time, Allen had been reading in a chair by the bookshelf and it was clear to her that he was just letting her "be". Although, she did notice that he would occasionally steal a glance to check on her but at least it didn't feel like he was hovering or overdoing it.
Sighing, she let the warm soup heat her from the inside out. Finally, she felt like she could breathe. What was it about this place that had a grounding calmness to it? Looking around she thought more on it and realized that wasn't the case as her eyes settled upon him. No, that energy directly emanated from him. He had to be a good doctor if this was what a patient felt when they were being treated by him.
Resting the bowl in her lap, she stared at the half-eaten liquid as it swirled from her movements and there was no way that she could eat anymore.
What caused me to turn into this terrible person? Was I born this way, with a blackened soul, or perhaps I am just naturally bad luck? Yet, here in front of me is someone who appears to be full of nothing but good intentions. Fuck, he has always been too kind for his own good. How many other people had hurt him like I did?
As her mind swirled like the soup in the bowl, she watched as it was carefully taken from her hands and his soft voice somehow helped further calm her.
"If you're done, I can take care of this. Let me make you some more tea."
From her lowered view, she watched as his feet faded before she heard the sink being used.
"Thank you." She quietly squeaked out but there was doubt that he had even heard her.
After he quickly finished up in the kitchen, he sat upon the coffee table in front of her.
"You're welcome."
So, he did hear me. I suppose that's good.
Lifting her encumbered head, she attempted to read his expression to make out anything to help her gauge what he could be thinking. Silently sitting up straight, he was watching and perhaps waiting for any sign that he could do something more for her.
"I don't understand. Why the hell are you doing all of this for me?" She blurted out, not even realizing that she had verbalized what she had been thinking but he was quick to answer.
"Because that's what friends do, right?" He leaned forward, patted her hand before sitting back up and giving a respectful amount of space between them again.
"Yeah, I suppose." She sighed, flopping back on the couch before she felt gravity pull her down on top of the pile of fluffy blankets.
Tucking her head into some of the soft folds, she hid her face but turned her eyes towards him to covertly watch him. Between his knees, he fidgeted his fingers together, until he ran one of his hands through his hair a few times. Finally, this was one behavior that she was able to identify. He was trying to find some form of comfort in this uncomfortable situation, and she was certain that he was trying to figure out what to say.
She reminisced upon the happy memories of when she used to run her fingers along his scalp and through his long, beautiful hair. Whenever she did that, it had always brought him peace from the chaos that was his mind. There was so much that she had forgotten about him. Was he ever happy with her?
When he finally rested his hands, he clasped them between his legs and directed his attention to her once more.
"Uh, did you maybe want to talk about what happened? As Oma would say: 'Gemeene plaag rust wel.'"
"Any problem shared is a problem halved." Turning her head in his direction, she answered with a soft smile.
Seemingly surprised, he returned the smile.
"Yeah. You remembered."
It was then that she noticed how his hands clasped tighter.
She let out a hard sigh and snuggled her face back into the comforting blanket.
Fuck, I don't want to, but I might as well tell him what happened. I don't even know if I remember it right. Am I? I don't know. It isn't fair to leave him in the dark, especially when he is finally asking outright. Ugh, not to mention putting up with my sorry, crybaby ass.
"I guess some things tend to stick in the mind more than others." With a half laugh, she diverted her attention as she began to pull on some of the fuzzy blanket's tufts so that they would stand up.
Trying to figure out how to word it, she struggled with her own thoughts. Nothing wanted to come out, nor could she make any sense of it. She must've been in her head for too long because he stood up to leave.
Shit! He must've taken my answer as avoidance. Gods, in a way it was.
"Wait!" Sitting up, she grabbed his arm and successfully stopped him. Swallowing, she prayed that this wouldn't be as hard as she knew it would be.
His eyes locked onto her hand that was held tight to his arm, and she realized that the large bruise on her wrist had been exposed as it peeked out of her sleeve. Shame pushed its way out of her as she pulled her hand away to quickly conceal it from his scrutinizing view.
"Please, just sit. You're making me nervous standing there. I'll, I'll, uh... I'll try to tell you what happened but please forgive me if I can't." Lowering her head, she observed as his feet repositioned themselves before they found their place by the coffee table.
As he patiently listened and waited, she became hyper aware of the silence as the time began to crawl by. For how large his living space was, it was unnervingly quiet as he mutely sat there and not even the sounds of the city could be heard. Occasionally, the silent monotony was broken by the warm forced air as it was pushed out of the large, tube-like vents near the ceiling.
Finally settling on her thoughts, she built up enough strength to speak.
I must do this. I have to. He might be the only person in the whole universe who would understand my situation. Maybe he is right about sharing problems.
"Uh, Beetlejuice, um uh, didn't react well when he found out that we were talking again." She watched for his reaction as he sat up to attention and began to think on her words.
"I don't remember if I ever told you, but after he was freed, his energy was returned in full? It's very, reactive and it makes him more... uh intense. So, when he's angry, he's more than just angry. It's like his emotions are a tangible thing that control him. You can literally feel them. Ugh! FUCK! GODS! Am I even making any sense?!" Scratching violently at her scalp, she felt confused from her own words.
Obviously, it doesn't make sense!
"I understand." Calmly he responded, prompting her to whip her head to stare at in him in total confusion.
"When I was younger, that was how it was for me. I could feel everyone's feelings. I literally could feel them from other people. Anger was the worst to deal with and it would physically hurt me. There weren't many times in my life that I could feel anything for myself. My parents they were, uh, very angry people. To be honest, they hated me. So, pain was all that I could feel for the majority of my life... well, until Oma and Opa took me in." Allen's eyes tightened as it was clear certain memories were coming back.
"Do you still have your black-outs?" She asked, remembering what would happen to him whenever things would get bad.
"No, thankfully. Just my migraines." He gifted her another gentle smile.
Taking it in, it made sense with what he finally shared, but now the pressure was on and it was her turn to reciprocate.
"Uh, He... he, called me some awful things and told me that I couldn't be friends with you or any other guy." As she explained, she watched his expression carefully. Although she was scared to say more, she had to. She didn't want to verbalize the truth even though she wasn't sure what was the truth anymore. If she did…
Her eyes began to burn and ache. She knew tears weren't too far behind. She just prayed that she would be able to keep talking because she felt like she was losing her mind in all of this.
"When I told him otherwise, he flew into a rage. He didn't hold back and... and.. Th,Th,Then, it got worse. I was wrong though… he's right… I shouldn't… I shou…" The tremors began the rise within her as the night before replayed itself in every horrid detail. "Gods, it's my fault… it's my fault."
Warmth covered one of her hands as Allen placed his hand upon it. His grounding energy brought her back from the edge and provided enough clarity to continue. Looking over to him, he released her hand when her eyes softened as she fortified her will.
"but even though that was my fault… I found out something awful. He confessed about some of the things that he had done. He lied to me. He manipulated me. He used me. How could he do this to me? Maybe he lied about that too? Maybe he was trying to teach me a lesson? I don't know anymore. Did he lie? I love him… I'm not that stupid, am I?" Shaking her head, she didn't want to believe the words that were coming from her mouth, but she knew in her heart that it was the truth.
"Maybe from the very beginning… He had a plan? He manipulated everything in my life so that I would blindly follow him… And I did!" Lydia's eyes darted as she attempted to put the puzzle pieces together. "Allen, our relationship… I think… I think he sabotaged our relationship. No… He set me up!" As she spoke, her voice grew louder until she practically shouted that last sentence.
Any expression that he had on his face, dropped. For nearly a minute, he sat still, like he was frozen until he shook his head before facing her again.
"Why? Why would your best friend do that? We had both vehemently trusted him." As he spoke, his body didn't move, nor did he have any readable expression.
Fear welled up inside as tinges of guilt slapped at her but still, she had to keep going.
"Because he wanted to own me, Allen, and apparently I'm a fucking moron. I think from the moment that I agreed to help him, he believed that I was his possession. Honestly, I don't even suppose that he thought of me as a person or an equal to him. Was I? No, no, no! I was just something to control and when he didn't get his way..." She grabbed her stomach as it began to ache. No longer was that sadness there as an anger began to take its hold.
"He destroyed everything that I loved…" Stabbing pains wracked her stomach but she was too angry to let that stop her. Bent over, she inhaled sharply and struggled to speak. "He stole my future… our future… so he could move in… use me when I was, was my most vulnerable. Oh Gods! What he did… what he did…"
Panting, she lifted her head so that she could look at him. The pain that resonated from her eyes caught him unaware and he moved further back from her.
"THAT FUCKING SLIMEBALL! THAT ASSHOLE! I WANT TO KILL HIM! I WANT HIM TO… AUUUGH!" She screamed out to the room until she was hoarse as she released her anger and frustration within her words and hoped that somehow, they'd magically stab Beetlejuice from afar.
Standing up, Allen tried to shush her, but he couldn't get close. She was livid and he knew that she had a right to it. She continued to scream, pulling her hair, as more and more memories of her husband's betrayals became clearer. Her piercing voice bounced off the brick walls as she began to tear apart and lose herself.
Quickly acting, Allen couldn't let this continue for fear that she'd do something to hurt herself. Gently grabbing her arm, he pulled her forward, trying to calm her but when he did, she yelped in pain and fearfully pulled away from him.
Scuttling back, she pressed herself against the couch furthest away from him, cradling her arm as her whole body shook. As she hid her face behind her hair, a cold wave shot through his body from the thought that he hurt her.
"I'm sorry! What did I do?! Are you ok?" He fought against his need to reach out to see if she was hurt, but he held back.
"IT'S NOT YOU! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" She shrieked, yanking her sleeve down to completely expose the deeply multi-colored bruise. Unlike before, he could now clearly see that there was a growing welt.
Trembling, she held up her arm as her tears freed from their confines and were determined not to stop.
"HE HURT ME AND, AND HE, HE WAS GOING TO KILL YOU! ALLEN HE WANTS TO KILL YOU! I COULDN'T LET… I DESERVE THIS… YOU… You… you…" Slamming her eyes shut, she would have given anything to rid herself of the horrible gore filled visions that were filling her head.
Her legs shook under her, barely able to hold herself up on the couch, she was jarred when she felt Allen grab her hand and begin to feel along her bruised arm. When he pressed into a certain spot, white, shocking pain shot through her whole body. Crying out, she glared at him, holding back the desire to retaliate, as he scrutinized her every reaction while moving her wrist and then her hand. Wincing she tried to ignore the pain as he wordlessly moved it around to work it into different directions. Whenever he found a spot that she would react to, he would press and work that spot further, causing her to hiss out her pain through her clenched teeth. Finally, when he let her arm go, she cradled it but not before covering the horrible reminder of all that had happened.
Once again, he still didn't say anything as he sat back down. Scared to see his reaction to the truth, she had to know what he was thinking. Taking a risk, she looked over and found him leaning forward, rubbing the back of his neck while watching her. Yet, even so, he appeared to be responsive and listened if she had anything more to say.
Carefully sitting down, she brought up her knees and avoided looking at him. How does he remain so calm even after all that I said? Did he not hear that Beetlejuice wants to kill him?
"He… he wants to kill you. In fact, he tried to force me to tell where you were so he could... he could... I couldn't let him hurt anyone, let alone you. You didn't deserve any of this! YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG AND BECAUSE OF ME… HE'S GOING TO… TO…" She couldn't finish that sentence as her body moved on its own as she jumped up to her feet. When she did, he stood prepared to catch her if she fell.
"I can't do anything, Allen. There's nothing I can do to stop him."
Anger, fear, and self-loathing set her in motion, and she had to move, there was no way that she could sit any longer. Unintentionally, she roughly pushed past him, and began to pace in the open space behind him. In turn, he silently watched her as she did so.
"He betrayed me Allen! I was so naïve. I was a fucking idiot who trusted him, and he took everything he ever wanted. I basically handed him everything on a silver platter! I should have never done anything with him. I shouldn't have signed that contract! I wish I had never met him!" More and more regret filled her, her heart began to shatter as the realization sank in that the one she loved had never valued her.
It was nothing to him, that he would so easily and happily manipulate her into doing what he wanted. Every move, he had strategically planned so that she would fall in love with him.
Stepping into her path, Lydia didn't see Allen until she crashed into him. Startled, she pushed him away.
"What the hell did you do that for?!" She snapped.
Unflinching, he gently put his hands on her shoulder and calmly spoke.
"Lydia, even if you tried, you can't change what happened. No, right now, you should figure out what you need, want, and plan how to accomplish it. Now, you said that he had his power? If he is angry about this, don't you think he'd try to find you? Is there a way that he can do that?"
Lydia's heart dropped, filling her vision with white as she realized the truth.
Why would any of my threats even faze Beetlejuice? Of course, he doesn't respect anything that I say. Shit… now, I somehow ended up right where he wanted. This feels like this is another setup.
"I, I, I don't know what to do! Allen, what do I do? He was so unhinged! I think he was the cause of those accidents last night too. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck… If he did… I think I put you in danger! Gods, I led him here. If he shows up… you're dead. I'm dead! Oh, fuck me… Gods… what… what…" Unable to finish the thought, she nervously bit at her thumb as panic began to fill her again.
Allen attempted to make eye contact but her wide eyes were lost as she chewed on her thumb. Murmurs of garbled self-deprecating words repeated out of her in a silent chant, spiraling her further down into a dark hole.
"Lydia?" He said firmly but she didn't respond and so he gripped her shoulders, giving her a little shake as he said her name louder. This time she quieted as her scared eyes lifted to him.
"Alright, let's think this through. Nothing has happened to us so far, so for now, let's not worry about that. Instead, let's think about what you can do. Is there anyone you can talk to? If I remember correctly, you said that you had a caseworker, right?" His calm demeanor appeared to help some of the anxiety abate as she lowered her thumb.
Finally blinking, she registered his words and nodded.
"I, I, I think I could talk to her but… surely they'd just tell me to divorce him. You haven't met Juno. They don't care!" She turned on her heels and began to pace once more. "They won't listen to some stupid fucking mortal."
"Do you want to divorce him?" Still carefully watching her, he sat down in one of the ivory colored fabric chairs.
Stopping in her tracks, her mind went blank.
"I, I don't know. If I divorce him, he dies… Why am I so stupid? I don't want him to die. I love him. Gods, I'm a stupid, fucking moron, stupid, stupid, stu…" Conflict warred within her heart and left her even more confused on what she should do.
"Lydia… stop, you're not stupid. I have never known you to be stupid. You've always been an intelligent person and I admired that about you. Listen, maybe you should talk to, uh Juno, was it? Look, you won't know your options unless you do. Perhaps there are alternatives that you are unaware of? Juno is your caseworker after all, and as such, she should be there to help you." As he spoke, she began to feel herself come back. She wasn't all there but at least she was thinking a little more clearly. Still, she was nowhere near understanding what was the right path.
"I think you're right. I'll, I'll do that now. I can summon the portal door but that's the only thing I can do anymore." She sighed out as she turned her back to him. "Gods, I have no idea what to say."
"Just explain what happened. Ask if you have options or if she has suggestions to help you in your situation." His voice was like a blanket and without looking in his direction, she nodded.
Dramatically raising her arms, a flash of color covered and transformed the clothes that she was wearing into her red spiderweb poncho. Just as suddenly, a crooked looking door appeared near her, floating in the room, and he was taken back to the days when they were younger. He had forgotten all about the eminence when she summoned the door and how astonishing that magic was.
Setting her hand upon the portal's handle, she inhaled and held her breath. Something about this almost felt too final. Mustering her strength, she pulled upon the handle until she heard Allen call her name.
Spinning around, she found him moving across the room to meet her. His hand firmly set upon her shoulder, while his eyes intensified and locked with hers. Her mind raced and didn't know what to expect from him. How can he stay so composed after finding out all of this?! Surely he understood how dangerous this whole situation is. What is he going to say? What does he want?
"Lydia, I want you to know that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. Consider this a safe place." His eyes seemed to pierce into her in a way that was exposing but oddly not uncomfortable. "Please don't make any rash decisions. I know how incredibly intelligent you are, so use only your rational thought processes and don't allow your emotions to make any decisions for you. Take your time and think clearly before you agree to anything. You have a lot at stake and as such, you don't need to rush into anything. Please, don't forget that I'm here for you. Ok?"
"Ok." Suddenly feeling much calmer, she turned to the open door before pausing to give him a final look from over her shoulder. "Thank you."
Stepping through, the door resolutely closed behind her and vanished.
