Chapter 4 Vatzah Island 2

"Faye", I heard my name as I looked up to see Scott's soft expression.

"You're crying again?" He said as I immediately touched my face confirming it. I didn't know..

"Stop doing that to yourself." He stated as I closed my eyes, willing the tears to go back. I can't afford to be in a more messy situation than I am already; at least I want to try to curb the impact. I let myself feel it too much.

"You're torturing yourself," he mentioned and it made my head snap to look at him. I don't know what came over me but I let myself out of his closeness and thrashed the beautiful flower vase by the table as I screamed at him. They did nothing to me though but I thrashed them and that made me feel sorry as I punished myself more. I think day after day, I loose a good piece of myself, I've become worse , I've become unsettling, I've become more of a schizophrenic shadow. Even more so, I drowned more in self pity and more into something I can't describe if given the luxury of time to. I've become.. something else, I've become.. not myself.

"Torturing myself you say?" I screamed at him as the tears I'd willed back came on to drench me. "Why shouldn't I?" I tried to catch my breath. "It's the only thing I can do to remind myself of what I had to give up and to get here? This isn't the reality I wanted for myself! You think I want to zone out in my kitchen and let my dinner burn? Or go on the sidewalk and not realize I'd worn the wrong pair of shoes? Or go to the grocery store to pick up a few things only to walk out forgetting to pay for my groceries? Or even cry not knowing when I do?" I whispered the last part. I was almost tagged a thief back at that grocery store, I had to explain over and over to make them see my point and understand it wasn't my intent to walk out without paying. The memory still broke me and a couple more others I'd better leave to the stars to absorb. In all that, I could tell that I've lost myself trying to find someone else. A bad bargain, a very bad one.

I now settled my gaze on him, the look on his face wasn't something I could describe and I mentally kicked myself for having screamed all that at him. He didn't deserve my outburst and he sure as hell didn't deserve my resolution to not want anything to do with him or any other man at that. That was when I became aware of my already piling emotions towards him. If I'm not sure of anything in this world, I'm sure I shouldn't give love a light of day in my heart. I'm done with intimacy, I don't want it. I'm done with love, I don't need it.

He sat on the bed not looking at me. I wanted to apologize for shouting at him. "I can't successfully describe your pain but I know what it feels like". He said staring at his hands. I couldn't look away from him.

"A drunk driver decided to drive my sister home from an auction we'd attended together, and on the way met with an accident." He robbed his knuckles almost frantically. I made to seat beside him as he spoke. "It happened so fast. I witnessed everything because I was there, I was the drunk driver." He seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. My heart dipped for him. "I couldn't save her, she died in my arms.. I watched her slip out of consciousness and I did nothing". He sucked in a breath. "For 5 years, I let myself be tormented of the memory, my businesses crumbled and I crumbled along with it". He glanced at me. "I tortured myself till there was no more torturing left to do. It was really grave.. I tagged myself lots of things including a killer. How could I have survived that and all the mental strains that held hands with it?"

Our gaze locked. He's had his own fair share of pain and has tried to curb it somehow and I guess he's succeeded at some point if not completely because his eyes still sparkled with tints of his experiences and the fact that they now contribute in defining his dark orbs that locked with mine and I guess he found a way and he's now crawling out of it however long it'll take. But I, don't see even the tinniest of possibility that will rid me of the pain imprinted on my heart and in my soul. He then took my hands in his.

"Faye, not torturing yourself is the first step to approach healing, and trust me, this is coming from someone who has breached those walls. It'll be hard and difficult and daunting, I know, but that'll have more effect when you don't have someone to go through it with you." He squeezed my hands assuringly. "I'm willing to go through it with you Faye.. I'll be right there when you need a shoulder to lean on."

I heard my own sobs. I'm fucked up. Here's a man I barely even know, stating his intents for a lost woman he barely even knows. What do you call that? He looked so sure and determined and that made me even more stuck to my shell. His determination posed like something I had killed myself more times to attain but I don't want to contaminate him, not like this.

I shook my head disagreeing with him. "No.. I can't let you do that." I looked down at our hands when he brought my eyes to his.

"I'm going to.. whether or not you let me." He stated, flicking away my tears. I let myself drown in his gaze. What sort of man is he? And what kind? Or am I one of the many people he's chosen to assist and be there for? Am I just another notch of his to make him feel better and attain freedom from his painful past? Is he or will he be another "Abel" in the course of time in my life? Despite the already building up feelings that I strangely harbor for him, am I ready to deal with more disappointments and daily drains from him? It's definitely a no. I'm not cut out for that, not anymore. I immediately withdrew my hands from his and sucked in a breath.

"I should have a bath." I mentioned as I darted off to the bathroom making sure to lock the door after me as I sank to the floor. A wise man once told me that, ' once you're trapped in the past, you won't be able to escape because you won't see the door'. I'm reminded of it because I'm distinguishly trapped and I certainly don't see a door. My life has taken an irreversible route and I don't see how I can put a stop to it or maybe I've accepted it as fate of which I've allowed to define me.

After a while of communing with the bathroom floor, I lazily slipped out of my clothes and went under the shower to wash myself. If only pain or even the past could be dissolved and washed away with water and in retrospect, I've become the exact opposite of the woman I needed as a child.