You also don’t come back all there. The brain lags, but you don’t know it because everything is alright while it tries to figure out if you’re dying. Not everything makes sense, and some things come up funny in very unfunny situations.
He was seeing me. Truly seeing me, because raw panic flooded his expression. He ripped himself away, stumbling back so fast he had to catch the doorframe.
I sat up, ruined mascara filling my vision and spilling down my face with new, violent bids for air and hiccuping sobs.
A tremor started deep in Vitali’s shoulders, working its way down his arms until his hands shook. He dug his fingers into his hair.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” he mumbled quickly, backing up into the bathroom where he sank onto the floor against the edge of the tub. “Fuck—fuck…”
I grabbed for the blanket and covered myself, wrapping it tightly around my shoulders. My breath came in rapid gasps.
I didn’t need anyone to explain what happened, and right then, I just needed to calm down. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t think about the pain dissipating through my body where I was either hit or…
Just needed to calm down.
Wind slammed against the window again, rattling the pane, and the sound fought the buzzing in my head.
“I… didn’t mean… Katya.” The words scraped out of his throat. He lowered his head, pressing down on his neck with both hands as hard as he could. “Fuck.FUCK.”
I swallowed and lightly touched my throat, where his phantom grip still choked my words.
“Fuck—God—FUCK—”
My cheek ached, and now the other one stung. My thighs throbbed.
“Don’t leave…” It was so quiet. If his voice weren’t so deep, I never would have heard. “Please, don’t leave.” He didn’t look up, just pulled his knees up to his chest. Like a child.
I slid off the bed, tugging the large blanket behind me as pillows rolled off onto the floor, but did not move toward him. I wanted to, but my legs refused. Light shivers played between my ribs. I tried to swallow. Couldn’t. Too many pennies in my mouth.
Slowly, I shuffled to the foot of the bed and away from the bathroom. My dress lay discarded on the floor beyond the iron bedframe. One of its straps ripped off. The nylons hanging off the post were shredded.
The sight of him above me, panting like an animal as my breath ran out, seared into my mind with a white-hot flash.
I blinked away the film of makeup on my eyes and tried to sort my prattling thoughts as I listened to his heavy breathing. He timed it.
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four.
Hold. One. Two. Three. Four.
Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four.
I counted with him, and my lungs gradually fell into the same pattern.
Vitali didn’t move when I made my way (slowly) back to the doorway and leaned against the frame. We stayed like that for a few long minutes, in that tiny bathroom with chipping bath tiles and exposed pipes. In that tiny bathroom belonging to a man with a $30,000 watch.
“I’m not leaving,” I said finally, cleared my throat, and tried again—this time more convincingly, “I’m not leaving.”
His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was rapidly mouthing something to himself.
How many times had he lost control like this? How many timescouldhe have lost control and didn’t?
“Neverher,” he breathed out, and I wasn’t sure I was meantto hear it. “Never,everher…”
I gave it a few more minutes because my body shook, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t overcome the thought to run. So, before my legs could carry me off, I sank down beside him, setting the blanket like a buffer between us.
A cruel place, this world.
He protected me for so long. Over and over, he told me‘no.’Even when I got upset. Even when I pushed it, thinking myself sly. Thinking I understood.
