близость

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I'm not sure if I know how to do this - how to treat Audrey, after all that she's been through. I must admit, that I let her down, I failed her, when she had to go through that eight years ago, when she came back from China, in that awful state of mind, and I just left her. This has been sitting on my mind, heavily, ever since.

I failed her back then. I'm not gonna fail her again, I swear to god or whoever is out there: I'm not gonna let her down, not ever again. No matter what it takes, no matter how much time I'll have to spend finding out how to treat a human being that was held in captivity and mistreated for such a long time. I should know that. First handedly. But it's a huge difference to go through hell and fight your own way back out, compared to helping somebody in Audrey's position. Nobody ever helped me. I'm not even sure if I would have accepted anyone's help. Why not? Pride? Being the wounded animal that retreats to its den to lick its wounds?

Maybe that's why I've ended up sitting at the bed, watching her. I've slept enough in the past hours. I don't even know what day it is. Is it the evening of still the same day? Or already next morning? No idea. Doesn't matter. Audrey is still asleep, lying on a blanket on the floor in that corner, curled up in a ball. It is so great to look at her- to know that she's alive, that she's in a state which is not the best possible but yet pretty okay, compared to how bad it could be, and that she's here. It's been almost twelve years in which I haven't had her that close to me for such a long period of time.

A part of me is frightened, I guess. Frightened of losing her again, of fucking this all up. Everyone you touch ends up dead. I hear Heller's words in the back of my head when I look at her. Is he gonna be right, in the end? I hope not. I've just saved her, damn it. It's time to prove Heller wrong. I am capable of saving a life, not only be the reason for its end.

She lies there peacefully but yet I hate to see her lie there, on the ground.
I really have to fight the urge to take her into my arms and carry her back over to the bed. She wouldn't want that. I didn't want that either, when I got out of captivity. It is strange... I have to try and think back why. To sleep on a bed, in the middle of the room, on a soft mattress. What was my reason to continue sleeping on the hard wooden floor, even when I could have slept at the bed?

I didn't deserve any better.

The feeling of being vulnerable, when I tried to hide in a corner of the room, to make sure no-one would see me.

I know how she feels right now. She wouldn't want me to get any closer. I would be invading her privacy and be her enemy. That she let me carry her on my back yesterday doesn't count. That was necessary to save our both lives, even her tormented brain realized that.
Now she's over there and I guess she's back to the defensive position, building up an emotional and a physical fence around her, letting nobody get close. She has no good memories of other people any more. Nobody who came to her during the past months meant well for her, I guess. The few moments in which I saw her, two months ago, they don't count. Maybe she's not even asleep. Maybe she's just feigning it, so I'd lave her be.

She ate the things that I put there for her, probably at some point while I was still out. I take away the empty dish, take a shower and change my clothes, that is really overdue. After the black shirt with the long sleeves is gone and as the lukewarm water washes over my body I realize for the first time that my lower arms are covered in scratches and grazes from carrying her legs. I have to do something about this.
Drowned in thoughts I sit down on the bed again, to put bandages around my lower arms. She's still asleep at first, but then, at one point, she's suddenly awake. Did I wake her up? Or did she stop to feign being asleep, because she saw that I'm living my own life right now and didn't do anything to get too close to her?

She sits up, wrapped into her blanket, staring at me.
For a moment I halt what I'm doing - bandaging my forearms - and look at her. I put on a little smile for her, to show her that everything is okay, but this time she doesn't smile back. I don't know why. I'd like to scream out loud, I'd like to cry or whatever, a thousand thoughts are rushing through my head: why doesn't she just smile back? What's so horrible that is going on inside her mind? Am I an enemy to her? I am not your enemy, Audrey!

The most horrible thing for me is that I don't know what's going on inside her head.

When she sat up I hoped that she'd probably come over and help me with those damn bandages, but she's just sitting there watching me as I clumsily wrap the white fabric around my right lower arm. She won't help me. She won't come any closer. I have to put those illusions aside that her mind lets her care for anything else but her own safety.

When I'm finished I lean over to the side of the bed which is closer to her - I don't lean towards her too much, not to scare her. I have to tell her that everything is okay, but she seems not to care at all. Do the bandages around my arms scare her even more? Does it make her think I'm not strong enough to take care of her?
I tell her that I'm okay. And that I'm here to take care of her.
Still no reaction. It leaves her cold, whatever I tell her about being okay. Doesn't she care? Is it all the same to her whether I'm okay or not? Probably. Her mind only lets her thoughts go as far as they concern her own immediate safety.

I haven't even asked her - yet - if she is okay. She looked alright when I dragged her out of the Chinese prisoner transport van. Aside of being totally undernourished and skinny, she looks like she's not hurt.

I'm not gonna ask her if she is hurt.
That would only get her thinking about things that she can't handle.
I will find it out anyway, if she were hurt, she can't hide it from me, at least not for long.
When I came back from China, years ago, I wanted no-one to ask me whether I was okay or not. I acted like a wounded animal, licking my wounds in the dark because I didn't want to show to anyone what I had to go through. That paramedic who gave me a prescription for painkillers was okay - but only because he didn't even give me a closer look. My wounds healed, eventually, but nobody took care. I wouldn't even have let anyone see them. Right now, I can't even put it into words why. That was senseless. There is no reason for hiding from a doctor who just wants to help you- but yet my mind told me to.
I guess Audrey feels the same.

I take the pack of clothes that I prepared for her from the nightstand next to me and with slow moves I put them down on the floor, within her reach. It's so hard to fight that urge to rush over to her and just take her into my arms. It's awful to hold back. I don't want to hold back, but it's the only move that makes sense right now. She trusts me so far to be in a room together with me and not freak out. I guess that she wouldn't let anyone else even that close.

She's still wearing those Chinese prison clothes. They look and smell awful and they're dirty. I want her to get rid of them and get rid of all the memories which are attached to them.

She's not gonna undress in front of me, that much is clear - and right now, I'm even glad. I can see some things through her raddled clothes, how skinny and bony her body is. But I don't know how I'd feel if I saw her naked in such an awful shape. I guess I would either cry or freak out. Both wouldn't be good for Audrey to see. Right now I'm really glad that she stands up, takes the clothes with her and heads over to the bathroom.

She had troubles standing up. But she wouldn't have accepted the help that I didn't even offer.

I have to get something to eat for the both of us. She has to get stronger again and she has to put on some weight again.
The fridge is full as I open it. Belcheck probably went to buy something for the three of us while I was asleep. Half the things are labelled in Kazakh which I can't read at all. Some others are labelled in Russian, which is at least somehow similar to the few Serbian words that I know.
He's gone right now. I don't even know where he went or why but I don't care. He's a professional in what he's doing. Usually, Igor paid him and me to do things - now it's me who pays him. With the money that I saved and with the money Mark gave me.

With a loaf of bread and some cheese I head back into our room. Hesitatingly, I knock at the door first, before entering, not to surprise her, in case she's already out of the bathroom.
She is.

Her hair is dripping wet as she's standing next to the window, looking out. Smart girl. She didn't open up the net curtains and she didn't just open up the window and run away from me. The basic instinct is still there. It tells her that she's safe here and that we both have to hide.

This time, as she sees me, she even manages to give me a little smile. Wait... or is the smile just because of the loaf of bread that I'm carrying? Don't know. Doesn't matter. If making an end to her starving is going to bring back her trust, then I'll even head for that road.

Slowly I walk over to her side of the room, to the blanket that she put down onto the floor, to sleep on. I'm deeply invading her privacy by being here, I guess, but I take the smile that she gave me as an invitation. All my moves are slow and calm enough to give her some time to adjust or yield away.

I sit down on the blanket and a few moments later, she comes over to me, too, sitting down a few feet away.

I cut a slice of bread off for her. She hesitatingly takes it out of my hand as I offer it to her. I don't know what to say to her. There are a thousand things which I'd like to tell her - that she's out now, where we are, what my plans are,... I guess that would be way too much for her right now. She can't grasp that information.

After a few minutes she slips closer. That slice of bread is already gone.
She takes some more bread and cheese from the plate that is standing on the floor right between us.

My presence seems to be okay for her right now. We sit in silence for a while, eating. I'm glad that she is hungry and has some appetite. I should have told her to go slow, not to gobble that much food down after eating close to nothing for such a long time- but before I get the chance to say something, her body already tells her that, clearly.

She jumps up and runs to reach the bathroom just in time when it all comes up again.

I should have told her to eat slowly. Maybe I shouldn't have given her that much... I could have brought her just a little piece, instead of letting her get just as much as she wants.

No. That's wrong. There is a difference between taking care of her and treating her like a child. She's a grown up woman. No matter what she went through, I'm not gonna patronize her. I would have hated it, if somebody had done that to me, years ago. That's what they all tried to do. That's exactly why I retreated into my cave and let nobody close.

Being there for her is different. Being there for her means that I'm gonna hold her hair while she vomits and not that I'll keep her from making her own decisions. It's a wonder that she lets me be that close. Maybe she's just not able to push me away because she's at an end of her powers.

A while later there's nothing left inside her that could come up again and we both end up sitting at the tiles on the bathroom floor, close to each other. She's crying. I wouldn't know how to put it in words, but I know what her reason is. She realizes how weak she is. She realizes in what shape she is. The way back seems endlessly long, when you're in that position. I know that. I know it, first handedly. If I could only tell her.

There's not much space between us. Slowly I let go of her hair that I've still been holding and put my hand on her shoulder, wordlessly telling her that she can lean back if she wants to.

I see her hesitate. But as the sobs shake her whole body she finally decides that keeping me at distance makes things worse, not better. The part of her that remembered me and told her that I'm her friend, not her enemy, finally won over the part that tells her to let nobody close.
At least for now. I wrap my arms around the skinny body that leans its back against my chest.

I tell her that it's alright, that things are gonna get better again. I have a hard time not to cry with her, as tears fill my eyes as well while I hold her. She's crying. I guess it just needs to get out. Maybe she doesn't even have a reason that she could ever put into words. If you only knew, Audrey, how many times I retreated into my den and cried, remembering the life that I had lost. Every time I looked into the mirror and saw my scars. Every time I remembered how I left you and let you down.

I was angry for a time, but when that was over, only the sadness stayed with me. I would have given so much to have you near - nobody else. You would have understood how I felt.
Just like I understand you now. I could sit here, forever, holding you.

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