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Bre was forced to stay outside. |
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She sat just to the left of the door to the room she and Aramis shared as man after man after man filed in and out of there with barely five minutes' pause inbetween one person's entry and another's exit. She couldn't understand how he'd met so many people in such a short time. They'd only left Kaz's city a day earlier and had found this inn to spend the night in no more than four or five hours ago. As soon as they'd secured a room, Aramis took all of her belongings, shoved them into her bag, and told her to keep her "pale, narrow a** outside" as he "conducted business."
Whether she wanted to or not, she could hear him "conducting business." No matter how she cringed, no matter how hard she pressed her hands to her ears, no matter how loud she spoke to herself, or sang, or even screamed, she could hear him in there, his sharp, punctuated cries of pain breaking though her self-made barrier and shattering the frail shield she'd put up around her. And every time another stranger walked out of that room, his face flushed and gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, she could do little more than cringe with the knowledge of what had just happened. And always, once they left, he began again. The raw, gutteral roars of absolute agony that nearly shook the walls she leaned against for support left him completely exhausted. She could hear everything, sure, but she couldn't see what Aramis was doing in there.
Not that she should have, anyway.
Curled up in the fetal position on the worn, filthy mattress, Aramis continued to scream into the pillow. It didn't matter to him that he'd been screaming so long and so hard that the blood vessels in his throat had begun to rupture, and that a faint mist of crimson life spattered over the already woefully stained pillowcase. He'd torn at the mattress beneath him with such a feral ferocity that he'd completely torn a hole in it. But even that wasn't enough. Still clawing, he'd caught his fingernails into the springs and, still dragging his hands downwards, had ripped them completely off. His head was pounding, his lungs were aching. The entire room stank of blood and sweat and cigarettes and spilled alcohol.
She didn't understand what had happened to Aramis to make him act in such a violent, self-destructive way. What was wrong with him? What had he seen or heard or felt or lost to hurl him into such a state of reckless dichord that his own health and well-being (which he'd guarded jealously and with great zeal) were no longer even a distant priority in his life? Every time she thought of standing up and opening that door, another soul-crushing scream made it rattle and she simply reverted back into sitting down and waiting for it all to pass.
But it wouldn't pass.
Finally, Bre gathered all her courage and turned the doorknob, opening the door to the room they were supposed to share. Even in the rancid darkness, she could make out his swollen, bloodshot eyes, his dry, parched lips and his tear-streaked cheeks. Closing and locking the door behind her, Bre sat beside his badly trembling body and took his bloodied hand in hers. For hours, she spoke kind words in a soft voice, but they did little to ease the chaos within him. Eventually, even she grew tired and lay down to rest beside him, draping an arm over his shaking shoulders and trying to still the inevitable, involuntary sobs that interrupted the slowly deepening silence. Tomorrow, she'll wake up early and wipe the dried blood from his hands. Tomorrow, she'll dab at his cheeks with a wet cloth and erase any trace of the tears he'd cried. Tomorrow, she'll comfort and protect him the way he'd done for her so many times before. And tomorrow, for the first time since they'd met, she wouldn't ask any questions. She'd wait patiently until he decided to speak, even if that time never came around. Bre pretty much knew Aramis well enough by now to know he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. He'd smile or laugh and pretend that it was all behind him. But she wouldn't argue. Maybe this was just one of those things he had to deal with on his own. And for once, she was willing to leave it at that.
Finally, Bre closed her eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep. Sometime during the night, Aramis awoke to find Bre asleep beside him. Instead of ignoring her as he usually did, he instead turned his body to face hers and put his arms around her just as she'd done to him. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. He allowed himself to smile for just a small moment, no longer than a heartbeat, before going back to sleep.
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Mon Aug 08, 2005 @ 02:21am · 3 Comments |
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