Hey guys! Sorry that it took me so long to update! This is only a short chapter, too...I just moved from Germany to London to study law and so my life's pretty busy at the moment...Thanks, though, for all the reviews! That really motivated me to go on with the story! I need to say that this chapter is kinda really dark, but I guess some of you are into that as well, otherwise you wouldn't read the story in the first place ;) Just for my defence, I'm not as mentally disturbed as may appear from my writing ;)
Please enjoy and review!
She looked around, saw the well-known Centre room, reckognized the man she had been chasing for the better part of her life, remembered. She was shivering, feeling her complete lower body throb with pain. She was lying on the cold table, with him standing besides her.
The pain was hardly bearable. The only reason that didn't make her cry out loud was the fact that it was choking her.
She couldn't bear him close, had not yet allowed to go back in her memories far enough to realize what had happened. Yet she knew.
He could see the realization in her eyes forming only seconds after she had woken up from her state of unconsciousness. He didn't know what to do, couldn't accept that there was nothing to be done. He didn't dare to move.
Slowly, painfully, she got on her weary feet, who - Jarod feared - wouldn't support her. She seemed like a ghost, pale, fragile, unpredictable and aimless.
Except for the pain that started to fill her, almost pleasingly, she felt numb. She didn't know where she was going, like someone else was carrying her bare feet over the cold, grey floor towards the little bathroom she knew was behind the heavy curtain.
She passed without raising her gaze to meet his. He wanted to grab her and make her look into his face, make her hear his explanations, his rational explanations for what he had done to her. He felt an increasing sentiment of alienation invade his mind and body. The feeling of having lost his freedom forever, the realization that for the first time in his life he had brought immeasurable guilt upon himself.
She didn't care that the water was burning her skin when she heaved her weak body into the tub. She didn't bother to remove her clothes. She felt so dirty that she couldn't stand it.
Jarod could feel her presence behind the curtain, could hear her get into the tub and the silcence that followed. He imagined the cold and blank expression on her face that had hit him just moments ago. He didn't dare to direct his mind to what she was thinking. He was too afraid of what it would reveal about himself. Still, he couldn't help it; he knew what she would do.
It seemed to be the natural consequence out of her very situation. When the throbbing pain in her lower body had given way to the healing effect of the vodka combined with the pain killers, it hadn't felt right anymore. As if the natural balance between her mental and physical sensations would have to be restored. With the decreasing pain coming from her injuries, she was afraid of the thoughts and memories that would start invading her now no longer paralyzed mind.
He could foresee her every step, could see her as if he was right there with her. He was still standing at the same spot as when she had opened her eyes for the first time. He didn't need to physically see her, he could feel her presence behind the heavy curtain.
Maybe, it was the new-found guilt that paralyzed him, that made him unable to move and prevent further harm from happening to her. Maybe he wanted to punish himself, by letting her do what she thought was what she deserved.
She took one of his old razor-blades, still wrapped in old 90s paper, still sharp enough, though, for her to use. Testing it, she slowly, but forcefully ran her thumb over the silvery shining material, contrasting it with the red of her blood.
It was strange, how suddenly the images in his head seemed to scream for more, for confirmation of what they were making him believe. He needed to see her do it, maybe not only out of fear for her, maybe even out of a deep down desire to take part in what seemed her ritual cope with her life. At least she'd found a way, he thought.
The first cut came with hesitation, causing the second one to be of even greater force than intended. The first drop of blood flowing down her white arm felt like a release of what had been dying to get out of her. She liked to see it flow, slowly faster then, down her arm and mix with the cold water around her. It was her own blood, shed out of her own will and labour. It felt good to see that she could control her body, just like they had controlled it who knew how many hours ago.
Slowly, he approached the curtain, feeling drawn to it, to her, in a most inappropriate way. He wouldn't dare to stop her, he knew that much. He just wanted to take part, for once, in her feelings as she showed as much of them as she could, to take part in her sufferings and thereby be that part of her life, he had always wanted to be.
He knew that she wouldn't notice him now. She was too preoccupied with what she had to do in order to move on. It hurt him to see her and at the same time he felt reassured in his desire to belong to her life, to be part of her.
She caused the blade to leave more and more deep red wounds on her delicate white skin. Her threatening numbness was replaced by a feeling of pleasing numbness, filling her, once again, and driving away all thoughts. She didn't stop before the flow of red liquid made her head spin and her hands shake with weakness.
She dropped the blade and slowly, wearily looked up: For the first time after he had come within her, their eyes met.
Please, review! It takes about 1 minute of your time to write a quick statement even if you didn't like the story and any feedback would make me very happy (and may even motivate me to update soon...;) )