Two Minds & All the Places They Have Been
Chapter Seven / Conversations & Bruises
warning: mentions of PTSD
Zyla stood naked in front of the mirror, teeth clenched as she looked over her battered body. Over the years, she had collected scars across her body, and they all have a story. Most are nightmares she would not like to think about. But there they were, marking her body and laughing at her as she stood in the silence of the bathroom. Bruises old and new littered her skin, looking almost like the colors of the night sky and she pushed the skin with her forefinger, wincing a little. She looked over her pale body, pressing her fingers against her ribs and hips, noticing for the first time that she could almost see the bone. She supposed that her meals had become less frequent and scattered throughout the day as she hunted for the gang, but she never really knew the actual damage it had on her body. She had been always too busy looking behind her as she ran across the country to worry about her own health. She admitted that that was kind of stupid thinking now.
She didn't eat a lot, she drank more than probably necessary, she only got a few hours of sleep each night before moving on, she had nightmares, she slept with a gun under her pillow in fear, and she was constantly stressed; looking back on the past years, Zyla realized how far deep she had gone, and she was now terrified that she could never get back.
Swallowing, she turned from the mirror and turned the shower on, the mirror she had been staring in slowly started to fog over. She stepped in and slowly started to wash her hair, her muscles relaxing under the spraying hot water. Closing her eyes, her hands clasped behind her neck and her arms meeting in front of her, elbows touching, she stretched her neck from side to side, her eyes feeling more and more sleepier as she stood under the water long enough.
After she rinsed the soap and shampoo off, Zyla turned the knob of the shower off and wrapped herself in a clean fluffy towel, drying off. Only a few moments into drying herself off from the water, she realized that she had absolutely nothing to wear that was clean. She wrapped the towel around herself and peeked her head through the door, staring down the lit hall. She was about to call out for Spencer when she noticed something dark on the floor. Zyla looked down and saw a pile of neatly folded pajamas. She brought them inside, staring them over. They were all Spencer's clothes- a long sleeved black shirt, a pair of gray and black boxers, and pajama bottoms.
Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she dressed in just the boxers and shirt, both just a little too big on her. She folded the pajama bottoms up again nicely, hung up her wet towel, and balled up her old clothes with a grimace on her face. They were covered in dirt, and the shirt had blood soaked into it from her shoulder, and they just smelled and felt gross. After a moment's thought, she threw them away in the wastebasket underneath the sink, and headed out the door.
Now having showered, Zyla felt much better. Her muscles were relaxed, her skin was smooth, and her hair was actually, like, clean. On the road, she tried to shower, or at least wash her hair, as much as she could, but sometimes it was difficult because of where she was, what resources she had, or how much time she had before she had to move on. However, now that being filthy was off her mind, she thought about how starving she was, and immediately detoured to the kitchen.
Spencer was in there making a cup of coffee, eyes unfocused as his brain whirred away, deep in thought. Zyla didn't bother him as she began to rummage through his fridge and pantries for food, humming a little as she did. She pulled several snacks out as she picked through the cabinets and fridge, eating some of them and putting some of them back after a moment's thought. Her stomach grumbled loudly and she grimaced as she began eating the food she had scrounged, leaning on the kitchen counter.
Zyla watched Spencer as he buried himself in his own thoughts. She knew that he might need some time to think over and process everything that had happened and everything she had told him about the past.
As she munched on crackers and fruit and the like, she thought over what will happen in the future. Where would she live? What would she do? She had spent so much time going after Andrew and the group that she had forgotten how to live domestically like Spencer did. She had never put thought to what she would do if she succeeded her goal and lived. Her eyebrows furrowed as she slowed her chewing.
My god, she thought to herself. I'm going to have to get a job. Like, a proper job.
Several questions about what was next flooded her thoughts. Of course, she'd need a paying job, and where would she live? Would she get her own place? Would she move in with Spencer? Was she even mentally capable of getting a job after everything that had happened? And what about the relationship between her and Spencer- it was quite clear on how they felt, but she thought back to her mental stability. Is she even able to uphold a relationship like that? And is that fair to Spencer?
"What are you thinking about?" Spencer's question jolted her from her thoughts, and she blinked lazily back into the present. She shrugged in response to his question, and began to clean up her mess, now feeling satisfied. "Just… what's next, I guess." she answered, her voice sounding detached. Spencer studied her a moment more, observing her movements.
"And what's next?" he asked softly, wanting to know himself. Zyla wished either one of them knew. It would make the whole thing easier, to be honest.
Instead of answering and going deeper into it, she shrugged in response and straightened up. She sighed, and looked over at the clock. She almost groaned when she realized that it was almost four a.m. She was absolutely exhausted. Her body felt like goop and the only thing she could think of was collapsing somewhere and sleeping for ten hours.
"Let's deal with all that stuff another day," she said faintly, a tired small smile curved on her lips. Spencer nodded, and there was a brief tense silence. He said that he'd sleep on the couch, but they've slept together before. Why would it be weird if they did now? She felt bad that he was kicking him out of his bed after the long day they've had.
But they weren't fifteen anymore. They weren't in Las Vegas, and their only problems weren't the test they had Monday or the bullies at school. They were both different people now; they had changed and grown, and been through dark times that still haunts them to the day.
Finally Zyla turned and walked down the hall to the room. She opened the door to the dark room, and barely had time to pull up the blankets before falling asleep on top of them.
Zyla's life became a whirlwind of overwhelming uncomfortableness. As the aftermath of recent events began to settle down between the two, the shock starting to wear off, each of them realized that they had to deal with real life and make decisions. Zyla especially.
Her whole life the past few years was run, hide, hunt. It was tough to just break from those routines and instincts that had been installed in her for four years. As she stayed with Spencer, he began to realize that too, when she would tense in silence and watch every moving thing at all times, keeping her eyes on everything. She barely slept- if she's not waking up almost screaming from nightmares, then she's staring at the ceiling or doing something else to keep her mind occupied. Once Spencer woke at three in the morning to her baking.
Spencer knew from his mental knowledge that she was suffering from PTSD, along with anxiety and maybe a little depression too. But she shared none of her thoughts or feelings about this with Spencer, and he was too afraid to ask her. Of learning the truth or her reaction to him asking, he didn't know.
While living in denial, Zyla spent her time thinking about the future. Where will she live? What will she do? What about her and Spencer? Not only did she not know what Spencer wanted, but she didn't even know what she wanted. She was afraid of the future, but she knew that it was coming whether they liked it or not. At some point, one of them will speak up and decide. But for her, it wasn't soon. For him, it wasn't soon enough.
Eventually Spencer had to go back to work, and Zyla would be alone, then, in the apartment, wandering alone with her mind. That, she knew very well, could be very dangerous.
It was the weekend before Spencer started up work again. The apartment was quiet, as was the rest of the city. For Zyla, the day had been filled to the brink with activities and things to do and see, things to occupy her with so she wouldn't have to let herself think for too long. For Spencer, it had been long as he silently watched Zyla's every move, calculating her mental and emotional state and knowing it wasn't good. All day he had been gnawing away inside himself with worry and anxiety about her well-being and the confrontation they'd eventually have.
The conversation that loomed nearer and nearer was settling just above them in the silent, tense room. As Zyla busied herself with crude sketchings in a notebook, Spencer watched her from the corner of her eye. Zyla wasn't stupid or dull; she knew that Spencer had been watching her like a hawk, and it was freaking her out even more than she already was. She was put on edge from his constant stare, whether or not he was actually physically watching her.
One of them would break soon, they both knew it. It was just a game of who first, and what will happen when it does.
After a few more minutes of the complete silence, other than the Zyla's pencil scratching along the paper, they found that Spencer won the game.
"Would you stop it?" Zyla snapped. Her voice sounded incredibly loud and booming from its suddenness in the quiet apartment. Spencer looked up at her with wide eyes, still quiet but trying to think of what to say. "You've been staring at me for days, and it's driving me absolutely crazy. I'm sick of you watching me every time I breathe so you can make sure I don't break or something."
Spencer narrowed his eyes just slightly, voice caught on concern. "I'm worried about you. We both know that you're not doing well from everything that's happened, and while it's not common, it's normal. You know, seven to eight percent of the population will get PTSD in their lives-"
"What? I do not have PTSD, Spencer. For Christ's sake," she faltered in disbelief. Spencer tried to calm her, his voice low. "It's perfectly normal, Zy. It's almost expected, from everything you've been through-" Zyla slammed her journal down on the coffee table, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before speaking. "Spencer. I'm fine. I don't have PTSD. Yeah, sure, I have nightmares sometimes and stuff, but that's kind of normal."
"You've been eating only about one to two meals per day, you only get about three hours of sleep at most every night, and you haven't been out of the apartment since you've gotten here. You're hurt from what happened, and bottling it up and running away from it isn't going to do any good," Spencer stated, his voice quiet but quite serious. Zyla broke eye contact with him, looking away and clasping her hands together. She stayed quiet for a few moments.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. "How am I supposed to just go back to a normal life after everything that's happened? How am I supposed to move on if I don't know where I'm going? I have no job, and I can't burden you with staying here all the time."
Spencer moved to sit in front of her, taking her hands and smiling at her softly. "No offense, but I don't think you or I have ever had the definition of a 'normal' life," he said, and her lips quirked a little in response. "It's not going to be an automatic thing, healing and accepting what happened. It takes time. I'm going to be here for every step of the way." Zyla gave him a little bigger smile, squeezing his hands.
"As for you and I… I love you, Zyla. I've always loved you, and I always will. I know you're struggling right now, but this… me… it can be home, if you want it to," Spencer spoke, and she was reminded of the shy little boy she had first met when he spoke. She looked at him in slight awe and with hope.
Spencer loves her. Of course she knew that (she'd always known), but in this moment, she didn't know if it had ever felt more defined than now. She began to wonder how she ever doubted him, and how she thought that they'd both get off that easy. She leaned over, tentatively, and kissed him. It was slow, hesitant almost, but it felt warm. It felt like home, and that's something Zyla hadn't felt for a very, very long time. He kissed her back, giving her all the words he didn't say, the ones she desperately needed.
They broke apart, and he hugged her. She curled into him like a child, and they were like that for a very long time before she began to speak. She told him everything- all that happened, all her thoughts and feelings, all her regrets and desires. She asked him the questions she'd been asking for months, or years, and he listened through everything. Ever so patient and understanding, he stayed quiet until she had finished a while later, and even then Spencer just held her while she cried.
Zyla fell asleep soon after, and then Spencer a little bit later- each reveling in the fact that, for the first time in forever, they finally found home.
A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating in like forever! It's been hard to write lately, and especially for this story- I've had a bit of writer's block lately. Don't know when the next one will be out for sure, but I'm hoping it won't be as long as this one took, ha ha!
Thank you for being wonderful, and please review! Have a lovely day.
