HER
I think I might be the one with the head injury.
The word had slipped out unbidden. I don't even have it in me to dredge up the old anger I experienced when I learned he'd been letting me call him 'handsome' everyday for months without telling me the truth.
Moving to the window, I lean out, desperate for a breeze to cool the heat burning through me. I breathe heavily, regret acidic in my mouth.
"I don't have anyone I feel that way about."
I wince at the memory of his words, at the sting of his rejection all those years ago. In my heart I had truly believed he would write to me, maybe even show up on my doorstep.
Nothing.
I got nothing. Not even an explanation or apology.
Despite the fact I knew I was being hunted, that I could never return to the place I called home, it was his silence that sent me crumpling to the floor, clutching at the pain in my chest, most often.
"I'm going back soon."
I shouldn't say it, but I do.
Tell me what you didn't then.
The way he was looking at me, he wouldn't look at me like that unless he felt something for me, would he?
Maybe it's a fraction of what I feel for him, I don't care. I just want to hear it.
I promise myself this is the last time.
The last time I ask this man if he wants me like I do him.
All I can do is hope this time is different.
HIM
"I'm going back soon."
It's like a bucket of icewater has been dumped on me.
Ah.
This is it then. Her drawing the line between us. Telling me in her way that though some feelings may be echoing because she's back here, nothing has changed.
She's married.
She's going back to Thomas.
Pain blooms behind my ribs, and I want to drop to my knees, to beg her in every language I know not to leave. To stay with me.
But what good will that do?
Why should I put my heart on a silver platter for her to stomp on?
Anger stirs in me: at her, at Thomas Prescott, at myself.
Despite my promise not to take my feelings out on her, the last few minutes have wounded me in an irreversible way.
How can she look at me like that and expect me to be fine? How can she look at me like that and then tell me she's going back to her husband?
"Maybe you should write me."
The words come out full of the pain I'm feeling, accompanying the bile that burns my mouth.
Sarcastic.
Cold.
I see her visibly flinch. So hard it almost looks painful.
Good.
A horrible voice whispers to me. Happy that I've made her feel even a fraction of the pain she's causing me. Her knuckles are white with how hard she grips the window. The light silhouetting her, so that even when she turns, her expression is unreadable to me.
"Lyub te ya, Aleksi."
She's gone the next moment.
The words hit me in the soft flesh just under my ribs, and my hands fly to the spot, gasping from the pain they inflict.
I love you.
She hates me. She thinks her last words to me will be ones of caprice. The truth is ten times worse.
The pain in my chest grows, and I slide off my bed and onto the floor, any pain from the impact dulled by the all-consuming one coming from my heart. Both of my hands press firmly into my chest, desperate to staunch the flow of my bleeding out.
At the knowledge that forever more, Laura's parting words to me were "I love you" in my own language. I curl towards my knees, choppy, gasping breaths heaving out of me.
She has ripped out the part of my heart which held her. Which, being the majority, has left me with only a small, useless piece.
I suspect even this belongs to her.
HER
Honestly, I was going to stay for a few more weeks.
Amber, though recovered, would want to spend some time with her baby, and selfishly I was glad for the excuse to stay.
"Maybe you should write me."
I have to stop shoving my clothes in my bag to grip my chest. Though my hand does nothing to stop the pain that lives there now.
Maybe it was worse having him confirm it in person. For all those years I thought maybe there was an explanation. That he didn't get my letter.
But all along he knew.
He never cared for me.
Angry tears streak down my face, and I wipe at them furiously.
I take my anger out on my clothes, forcing them into my trunks with far too much aggression.
"You're leaving."
I jump at the voice, and turn to find a frowning Amber standing in my doorway. Perhaps if my heart wasn't so raw I would offer elegant explanations and apologies, but I don't have the energy.
"I was going to say goodbye." The words have far too much bite, and she can't see the sorrow on my face as I swear heartily at a shoe which refuses to fit into my bag.
"Laura. Laura stop."
She grabs my arm and I feel the tears flow again as I struggle.
"What happened, is it… Is it that bastard?"
I laugh hollowly. I know she isn't talking about Aleksi, yet I want to say yes just the same.
"No no, nothing like that… just."
I let out a frustrated sigh, and all the fight leaves me at once like a flame being doused with icy water. My legs give out and I slump to the floor, leaning against the bed. Amber follows me, her face still a mixture of confusion, concern and anger.
I rub my eyes, trying to alleviate the stinging and gather my thoughts.
"It's not practical for me to stay here, Amber."
Her brows furrow, a deep frown etching into her face.
"It wasn't practical for you to come back," she pauses for emphasis, trying to read my expression. "But you did."
"I did it for you," I say hopelessly.
"So… you have to go back?"
I nod, staring at my clasped hands where they lay on my skirt. She huffs, standing and beginning to pace the small space in front of me.
"Do you want to go back?"
The question stumps me.
No.
Yes.
"Maybe?" She stops, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well, I mean I don't hate it there. It's less… complicated." I take a steadying breath, really thinking it through. "I like having my own store, being able to choose what I do everyday. But it's lonely there. Adah only comes or contacts every so often. I'm afraid to get too attached to anyone there in case I have to leave again. Here, well, it's too late. I care about everyone and I feel comfortable here. But it's not safe, and…" My face twists and I feel myself wringing my hands. "Aleksi."
As I talk she nods along, pacing again. Only stopping when I say his name. Confusion is clear in her face.
"What about him?"
I sigh, not able to meet her eyes.
He rejected me today, and also years ago, and I'm painfully in love with him.
"I think he'd like it better if I left. He…" I scowl at the memory, the pain I've suppressed and tried to ignore. "He blames me for what happened with Thomas."
Her eyebrows shoot up.
"He told you that?"
I nod, more tears slipping free.
I don't belong anywhere.
She finally slumps next to me, and I lean a heavy head on her shoulder.
"I can't change your mind, can I?" It's a question, but she says it more like a fact.
I say nothing, only take her hand and squeeze it.
"I'll miss you."
I really will.
I always do.