Thanks to Terzima for her support and comments (and her translation job!)

Thanks to Lipamo and Bookworm 1986 for their reviews and encouragements!
Thanks to you, anonymous readers.
This is a slightly different chapter.
Enjoy your reading.

A New Life

Part 5

BRODY

We had been traveling for a while, I was looking at the road without seeing it.

Carrie was driving, not saying a word either. Her hands were tight on the steering wheel. So tight that her knuckles were white, an obvious sign of stress.

I was beginning to know her even if at times she would unsettle me. I don't know what had attracted me in her. Was it that fissure inside her? (Were we linked by the same malaise?) Or was it that unyielding strength and will? Despite her illness, she never turned back, always went for it, sometimes forgetting about herself along the way. She didn't tolerate cowardice and even less disloyalty. I still wondered how she had found something she could love in me.

She glanced at the map at regular intervals, I was her co-pilot so that she could keep her eyes on the road as much as possible. I felt she was absent-minded – absent-minded and sad.

To confirm my thoughts, a tear started falling on her cheek; she wiped it away at once as if to hide it from me, but it didn't change anything to the fact that it was killing me to see her that way despite all her efforts at putting on a brave face. I was responsible for her misery. I turned my head and rubbed my face to erase that nightmare, but it was reality.

"I'm sorry Brody."
"What for?"
"I know you don't like to see me crying but – "
Her tears intensified, intensifying my despair.
"I was thinking of my father and sister – "

One more thing I was responsible for: her isolation. She was deprived of those she loved, those who had always taken care of her better than I would ever be able to. I was unable to give her back one-tenth of all she gave me. She was the one keeping my head above water. I tried to hold on for her, because she seemed to care about it more than she cared about her own life (I shivered when I thought about it) but as soon as I closed my eyes, life appeared unlivable to me.

She swerved. I grabbed the steering wheel to keep the car going straight. I put my hand on hers to draw her attention.
"Stop."
"No, it's okay."
"Stop!" I ordered this time.

She pulled over to the side of the road. She laid her head on the back of her seat and her eyelids locked. Her breathing was jerky, she was fighting not to give in to the anguish that was seizing her. It was not the first time I had seen her do it, she was constantly fighting her inner demons (one more thing we both shared). I took her hand instinctively, she held on mine fiercely, in a violent attempt at taking some of the strength I had in me, so I gave her what I had, the little I had. It seemed to be enough because after a long minute, she calmed down and opened her lost eyes. She focused on the horizon then allowed herself to glance at me. Her face expressed embarrassment and some gratitude.

It was hard to show the way we were, to accept that someone else would see us in a state of weakness. However, we were able to do it with one another. Like a sincerity pact, without the make-believe that had hurt us.

With her free hand, she tucked her hair behind her ear, another sign of stress. She let go of my hand, it was sore, and white where her fingers had gripped me. The blood started to circulate again and it prickled but I barely noticed. Instead, I slipped my hand on her thigh.

"Do you want me to drive?"
"No, I need to keep my mind busy."
"Are you sure?"

She offered a tentative smile as a yes. She was already coming out of that moment of anguish, I envied that ability she had.

We stop to comply with her natural needs, and two hours later, we were approaching the French border. In the middle of the Black Forest, we arrived in Freiburg. It was a visually pleasant place, quite animated, strangely familiar. We went around in the town instead of passing through it.

"What are you looking for?"
"A pharmacy. I've got a headache."

She was a little pale. I offered to go by foot, she hesitated and in extremis, pulled over in a parking space that had just been made available. When I got out of the car, it was obvious she also wanted to come.

"Don't worry, I won't be long," I reassured her.

I needed to breathe the air of the town, to merge with the crowd for a moment to suppress that sensation of being abnormal. Terror was there, lying low inside me, it could leap out any time, I knew it, I had been living with it for months, years. Yet, mingling with the crowd seemed to be the remedy to that agoraphobia.

She hesitated, I could see clearly the ramifications of her scattered thoughts that she tried to tie back to one another. She was looking for a way to tell me about her fear of letting me go but her new condition created confusion in her mind. Her pregnancy changed the way she was and the way she dealt with things.

I held out my hand, she gave me a few euros and I shut the door. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and walked randomly but keeping my point of return in sight. She was my landing point, my anchor in the world. She needed me, she had clearly told me so the night before.

The night before…

I didn't want to think back on it.

I had trouble integrating the fact that she had the result of our closeness inside her. An unexpected closeness, intense and genuine. I had believed in it. Yes, I had believed in her love for me and in my ability to reciprocate. I had believed I would be able to overcome the uncertainties that went with that new me modeled by a man for whom I had given up all reservations. He had known how to rekindle my faith, a faith long lost when I was a prisoner. But he had only locked me up in another jail. He made me believe that that faith was my redemption and I was in a quest for reconstruction.

Now I didn't know any more whether I was allowed to follow that spiritual route, and it was a cruel privation. It was all the more contradictory that it was also what had led to my downfall and the consequences were countless. Many collateral damages had followed, starting with my family. What was their life like now? What did they know about my recent actions? Anyway, it wouldn't change a thing. Shame would be part of their lives forever. And Dana –

Oh Dana –

I slowed down to abate the pain of the lacerations on my heart. I had been a horrible father, and my daughter had wanted to put an end to her life. I had felt the same need, and it meant that she had suffered beyond words.

And Carrie wanted me to start it all over again! What was she thinking? I should be mad at her, sometimes I was. It was already hellish to have drawn her into this dead end life, but now there was another life at stake. She claimed it was her choice but she was not rational, she couldn't be and bear this innocent baby at the same time. Did she realize the life that was awaiting us? A life? No, the pretense of a life.

Her worried face appeared before me, she was also scared. Scared of my letting her down, or rather, my giving up. Did she really think I would be able to support her in this situation that was new to her?

We love you Brody.

How long? When this runaway life weighs too much upon them, what will happen? When this child discovers what I've done, what will be his or her reaction? They will blame me for wasting their lives and they will hate me. And this – no, I couldn't go through this one more time. To love and be rejected like a monster afterwards. No – never again. I had learnt from my mistakes. Destroying me was one thing, destroying those I loved was something else entirely.

This was also the reason why I stayed away from love, it was an emotion that burned me down as soon I attempted an approach.

I had resumed my walk, easily locating what I was looking for. In a pharmacy, I stood in line, head down. It was almost an act of everyday life but it seemed unreal. Since Langley, it had only been escape, loneliness, descent into hell, manipulation and lies. I clenched my fists. This anger came back in fits and starts, balancing my morale weakened by the shadows of the souls of the people I had killed. I fed on it like a starving man on a loaf of bread. It regenerated me, enabled me to think and see that this fucking life was garbage. And that I was nothing more than a puppet that had been sacrificed.

Blood was pounding in my temples, I was more alert, more alive. This flame of life only lit up when I was angry or in Carrie's arms. I liked being in her arms, I liked hearing her heart beating, feeling her body tremble, breathe the scents of her hair.

I blinked and all my anger was gone. In front of me, a young woman was staring at me. I tensed up, on the defensive, before realizing that she was only waiting for me to tell her why I was there.

The walk back was quicker, I was anxious to be with Carrie. I suddenly stopped to enter a flower shop. I counted the coins that were left in my hand and I paced among the stalls to choose a single flower. I wanted one as unconventional as Carrie. I stopped in front of a sunflower. It was high and fragile, bright with its vivid yellow, shedding light on me like a sun. Like Carrie. It was also dark in its center, reminding me of how harsh and demanding she could be. I lost myself in the observation of her exact flower representation.

The florist broke me out of my daydreaming, and I paid for the flower.

When I reached the car, I felt stupid all the more so as she was pacing up and down in obvious distress. She stopped when she saw me and remorse hit me hard in the gut, I had taken too long. She stared at the sunflower, I handed it to her and after a moment of puzzlement, her lips stretched into a smile filled with wonder.

"How nice of you," she said simply.

It was as if she had never been offered flowers before. She hugged me in an affectionate embrace which transfered some warmth into me. Time froze, everything appeared so simple and so clear.

"There you go, I've found some paracetamol for you."

She grabbed the whole package.

"Thank you."

"I'll drive," I decided.

She nodded and sat down on the passenger side. There was a bottle of water in the glove box. She swallowed a tablet and sighed while enjoying the fragrances of the sunflower. There was no trace of fear or sadness left in her. That curious well-being that had characterized her since our reunion was back, she radiated confidence and it was contagious. Her hand settled on mine on the gear lever. It was soothing. She guided us until our final destination, only about twenty or twenty-five kilometers north of Freiburg. The houses got scarce, the heath got thicker, and the forested landscape summoned other memories. I instinctively liked the place. And I smiled as our safe house appeared before us. I didn't need to look at Carrie to know she was also smiling.

This safe house looked like the cabin.

More to come soon.