the shadows that still lurk under our feet

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every person must choose how much truth he can stand

- Irvin D. Yalom

Charlie

He gazes at his crossed arms resting against the knees, body slightly bent forward as he sits on the light, grey sofa, the soles of his feet pressing into the brown, shaggy carpet. And then his eyes move up, a bit distracted, sounds suddenly breaking through as if heard for the first time. The local news starting as usual at 10 a.m on the dot, a confident presenter with a pearly white smile and broad shoulders, introducing himself with a swift smile just before getting on with the topics that he pretends not read from the screen in front of him. Something about his voice and attitude seeming both soothing and agitating in a way. Making it more than easy to block out his words altogether. Not that he was listening in the first place, the mind too preoccupied with the last 24 hours of his personal life to focus on anyone else's right now. And a bit selfish as that sounded, it was the honest truth. The fake tan and big smile on his TV would have to wait for another day.

A sigh escapes his mouth as he ruffles and pulls on his hair a couple of times, a clear sign of his brain overworking, the worry settling in more with each breath that he takes and exhales. Something inside of him seeming to be divided in half, right in the center with a thick white line or a red thread that appeared to be there since she stumbled into his life.

Or maybe he did into hers, in the exact second when he decided not to call the police, despite the better judgment and all of the rules he was taught to follow. Instead, following some strange gut feeling that grew inside with each moment spent in Nora's peculiar presence. With each thing that she said so lightly, yet that contrasted so strongly with the body language that had a voice of its own. Something in him whispering softly somewhere under the ribs and then filling the mind slowly, inch by inch. Murmuring prickly things like don't judge just yet, listen, observe. STAY. The voice echoing in his mind, almost pulsating to the beat of each second passing between them. Or maybe deep in his tissue, both soft and urgent.

So despite any logical signs that his practical self was nagging him with, he listened and offered a helping hand to a person that needed it desperately, even though everything about her on the surface; seemed not to care. But the most eccentric part about her; was that she never actually tried to defend herself or blame something else for her state and situation. No, unlike any other junky he met before in his young career, she just offered him everything on full display. Not even fighting or trying to run away. If he didn't know any better back then, he would swear that she was relieved. Almost eager to pay for what she had done, just so she could be locked away. As if a cold cell seemed more appealing to her than any form of freedom could ever be. Maybe that was another reason why he stayed and knocked on that door, on the walls that she seemed to be so skillfully built around her, fake colors and Styrofoam exteriors masking something that was ugly in a way. Bruised. Pained and defeated. And that appeared to throb under her skin continuously as she spoke to him in short sentences and bursts of lukewarm sarcasm. Cocooning herself with eggshells that she chose to protect herself with instead of risking ever accidentally stepping on even one piece.

He shakes his head and once again ruffles his already wildly messy hair, only after a while noticing that the TV was turned off, unnatural silence filling the room. And

then he jumps a bit as an amused voice asks.

You want to leave any of that hair on your head, or are you trying out a new look there?

He turns around and looks up at Jenna as she stands there for a moment, remote control in her left hand, a bunch of books and notes held and placed strategically on her right hip. Then she shrugs without waiting for a reply and turns the screen back on, just before flopping heavily on the sofa next to him. Then she groans theatrically and sinks into the pillows, arms wrapped around her books as they seem to almost cover her entire torso.

Another tough day?

Mmm, could you explain to me why I decided to add economy classes to my studies? On top of my art and history major?

You mentioned something about not wanting to be a starving artist. In case the painting or teaching didn't pay off.

Ah, yes. That does ring a faint bell. A very faint one.

Mmm, good. And also something about your parents planting that thought into your brain. On a subliminal level in a subtle yet slightly devious way.

Ding-dong, we have a winner! Now I see it with crystal clarity and a panoramic view.

Glad to be of service.

She sighs and puts the books away, shoving them to the side, and letting the pile lay between them.

Is Rob at work?

Yes, lucky bastard. At least he doesn't have to deal with a stack of professors that consider torturing their students as easy entertainment. And the joy of their sad, low-paid, and slowly suffocating existence.

Easy now, or you're going to turn into a Walton specimen sooner than you think.

Walton? Is that a code for your dirty thoughts? If so, I'm in.

She turns his way curiously, and he snorts, answering automatically before thinking.

Not this time, no. But yes, Walton. Eleonore Emily Walton, to be exact.

Well, look at that. Who would have known that Elle could sound like royalty with that foul mouth and sweet tongue of hers?

Jenna grins and then gazes at him with more attention, something seeming to be bubbling up in her eyes.

And how did you find out about that?

By accident, of course. It's not like her to just blur any personal information out. Had to stumble upon her trash to even find out her last name, not to mention finding out that her birthday had been barely two weeks before that day.

There is a certain sort of shift and silence expending in the room. And it makes him look again in Jenna's direction after staring for a while at the screen and some TV series that he tried to find some deeper meaning to. There was none. His eyes catch hers, and he freezes, feeling his face turn red instantly. As if he had just done something wrong but had yet to find out what it was.

What? What did I do?

Charlie Connor Evans. Am I just imagining it? Or did you leave out that information completely, and kept it away from me?

Uhm...

He feels her bulldozer stare grind him slowly to the ground without any mercy or regret, leaving only his powder ashes as remains. Rapidly, he can sense himself getting smaller under that laser gaze placed strategically under a flurry of long copper red hair.

Well??

It must have slipped my mind. But honestly, it's not that big of a deal, is it now?

She points a finger at him and taps it against his chest, the fingernail digging in slightly. His eyebrows lift automatically, and she smiles in a patronizing way.

As a male specimen of a human, I can see how you can see it as such. But no matter, we are going to make it right. Aren't we?

He just nods a few times and then starts to shift further away, eventually getting up, his eyes gliding to the time on the watch under the TV.

I have to start and get ready for work, Jenna. But whatever you want to do, I'm sure, can be arranged.

He can hear her sigh and moan out in frustration.

Well, it's a good thing I am usually prepared and have something up my sleeve.

He nods again and disappears into the hallway. Mind somehow drifting back to the worried state from before. Memories guiding him to Nora's face as her own words seemed to hurt her like sharp blades every time she confessed something of her past to him yesterday. It made him flinch, things under his chest pressing into it with force. He hated seeing her pain and struggles, but every time he got to have a glimpse into her life, it made him feel closer to her somehow. It was something, he still didn't exactly have words for yet but knew it was important for him to hear every little part of it. Bad, good, or ugly. Whatever it would be, he wanted to see it. Now, if only he could make her understand that as well.

_______

She sits on a bench in front of the hospital, waiting for him before he starts the afternoon shift. Tapping a nail against the lid of her paper cup laced with something that pretended to be coffee, but in truth might as all have been the stuff you find in sewers. She wrinkles her nose at the thought, slightly drained from the last couple of days, the grey complexion and dark circles under the eyes, only confirming that picture. And then she looks to the side as Charlie's tall silhouette slowly appears on the main path that leads from the entry, right to an old small park situated in front of the building. She smiles at him faintly, gazing up and shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness of the day. A light that only hit her eyes, and for everybody else, was just a faded-out murky day.

The more tired she was, the more her senses were affected. Sounds, smells, and anything that touched her eyes heightened. As if she was a baby, taking in the harsh, cold world for the first time. Not a fun trip, that's for sure.

She frowns a bit as Charlie drops something unexpected onto her lap, eyes reluctantly zoning in on a square shape silver bundle with a wide, deep green bow. It takes a few seconds before she can move again, her mind not fully cooperating with the worn-out body. Slowly, she puts the empty cup to the side, gently touching and sinking into the feel of the smoothness of the satin bow, its deep shade somehow captivating to her.

Mmm, what is this?

She asks, cautiously as if whatever was inside the box would not appeal to her. Presents weren't really her thing. Well, receiving them anyway. It always made her a bit uncomfortable. As if she didn't know what to do with herself or how to react. Somehow having a specific, unintentional talent for upsetting the giver. She watched him sigh with bubbling consternation.

A late birthday gift.

Once again, she gazes suspiciously at the little bundle on her lap. It's light, and to her utter surprise, it even smells good, delicate perfume tickling her nose as she inhales deeper.

Tell me you did not...

No, relax. It's not from me. Just read the card.

He sighs and sits heavily next to her. She looks again at the box and notices a small floral card sticking from under the bow. Carefully, she slips it out and reads the word written with elegant letters. She snorts at the text and looks up at him. He shrugs, and she reads out with amusement.

"For some gala or a date with a millionaire on the side from your babysitter".

It's a late present from Jenna. She wouldn't let me off the hook until she pretty much forcefully shoved it into my arms and made sure I left with it in my hands. And then I swear, I could feel her hawk gaze on me from the window as I was walking down the street.

She smiles a bit at the amusing imagery of that scene.

Oh, I believe you. And I presume you were the little bird that spilled the beans?

It slipped out. And she surrounded me before I could do anything.

Oh, Charlie, dearest. We will have to work on your defense tactics one of these days.

Just open it.

He grumbles, and she smiles under her breath as Charlie crosses his arms and gazes at the trees and people strolling in front of them. She opens the package and lifts her eyebrows as she slowly pulls out a beautiful, long green sweater. It's soft and warm, stunning in its simple form. And under it lays a delicate silvery scarf meant probably for later to wear in spring. It shimmers a bit even in the faded light as she moves it around between her fingers.

Charlie, that's just...

Unnecessary, I know.

No. No, it's beautiful. Please, thank Jenna for me before I can get to her.

There is something in her tone, that makes him stare at her with much rounder eyes.

He seems a bit taken aback.

You like it?

His eyebrows scowl deeply, and the corners of her lips lift.

No. I love it.

Oh...

He finally seems to relax and sits more comfortably on the bench.

That's good. She would have given it to you, herself, but is busy with the upcoming exams and hardly has even time to sleep. Yeah, she's a hurricane mess of hair and snide remarks lately.

She bites her lip, visualizing a scene from a movie and hearing a line that she always liked.

I think she gets it from me...

What?

Nothing, just talking to myself, as any self-respected looney-tune would. Ready to walk in and face mundane reality and your nicely fitted scrubs?

She stands up and heads inside before he can respond in any way, letting him follow her as she walks into the building. Smiling and trying not to focus on the throbbing in her head that was expanding alarmingly with power for the last hour. Tickling her brain since the moment she woke up today in the middle of the night, annoyed as the sleep chose not to take her back into its embrace.

______________ Part 2 _______________

A few hours later, they meet up again in the reception area, when he gets an opportunity for a 15-minute break between his pilling up responsibilities. People passing them by ever so often like a buzzing swarm of bees or a school of fish deep in the ocean. It's a good, soothing background to keep her away from her own thoughts, the increasing pain under her skull, and pulsating ache under the skin. A growing rash that only he had a cure for. And she doesn't even have to ask or say anything. The scowl on her forehead, speaking loud enough on its own.

He touches her wrist discretely and rubs the soft skin there, as their surroundings keep on buzzing in a comforting way. She closes her eyes, blocking the world out, focusing only on his touch. And after a while, all the pain subsides from her slowly, as if drugs flowing through the shattered arteries, temporarily mending the things that would forever remain damaged. She exhales softly, smiling a bit, and then gradually opens her eyes. Then she notices someone else's reaction, and the smile dies out abruptly: another pair of eyes watching them from afar.

She stares at the lifted eyebrow and an amused expression, with something hidden just on the edge as the head tilts with slow understanding. Clarity. And then the stare shift and breaks into something grotesque-like. It resembles low-burning irritation but is much more dangerous. She takes a step back and pulls away from Charlie's light touch without even looking up at him, too overwhelmed by the whole situation. Her past was finally haunting her down. After all, it was just a matter of time. She constantly repeated it like a mantra in her head, and now it had become true, morphing into reality. She swallows and feels the chill spreading in her veins, growing into something cold and thick. An almost syrupy, half-melted, and half-frozen ice texture. It reaches her bones as she forces her back to straighten. She couldn't help but wonder if her finally releasing the truth about Dan let him to her. As if he took one whiff of her sins and sauntered closer, catching her scent. A hungry beast, eager to play with its toy before it became its meal.

Her eyes follow his as he comes a bit closer, watching her every reaction.

Eleonore, darling, I see that you have found yourself a healer. How clever, though they are quite often found in hospitals. Also in nurseries and schools. Did you know that?

What he says doesn't break through her mind at first, blending with his tone that still pretends to be entertained, when in fact it could break steel with each syllable that comes out of his mouth. She blinks and stumbles to repeat the words, to put them in some logical order. Eventually, she succeeds, but it's not a pleasant win. It was like an open gateway to something she wasn't sure, was a good idea to unlock. Once again, she forces the wires in her brain to work correctly. And it's not easy, the task reminding her of moving through a minefield, every new step a possible way to destruction.

She breathes out.

A healer?

The words come out in a whisper as she looks up at the man, smoothly taking another few steps towards her. The elegant, caramel brown leather shoes appearing to pretty much glide against the surface of the linoleum floor without a sound. His smile grows amused again. It's rather obvious that he enjoys her struggles in a sweetened cruel way that makes her skin crawl. A healer. She repeats and tastes it on her tongue as if trying to understand its flavor. If such a person existed, it would explain a lot. Even in the crazy world, she was in. She finally manages to turn her head and look up at Charlie. He has a funny look on his face. Like this surreal exchange has affected him too somehow, his thoughts somewhere far away from her. She touches his shoulder to grab his attention, suddenly forgetting about everything else, feeling strangely protective of him. She didn't want him to be a part of this darkness that she was a prisoner of. He didn't deserve to be bound with the same chains as her. Not marked by the shadows that always went too deep into the structure of one's soul.

What's wrong?

Her concern for him seems to unblock her state, her muscles once more in motion. Charlie stares down at her, and she breathes out in relief as he finds his way back to her.

Besides everything that's been going on for the last couple of weeks?

She nods slowly and stares at his face. He looks like he's going to try to make a joke out of it but then just sighs. His voice low when he speaks, and unsure a bit as if he was trying to remember something. His blue eyes touching her as if asking some soundless question.

I have been called like that before by someone very close to me. It was a long time ago. I almost forgot about it.

She furrows her eyebrows, worried about him. After a moment, turning her head to look at the unexpected visitor that couldn't care less about hospital rules and visiting hours, or anything else for that matter.

Alister, what are you doing here?

In this institution? It is a public place. I don't understand that surprised tone of yours.

You know what I mean Al.

She says and watches him cringe, the nickname slipping out before she could even register it fully. But honestly, she didn't care that much. After all, she was going to burn in hell anyway. It didn't make much difference now if she got under her skin, just the way that he got under hers. She stares as he composes himself and straightens his tie. Dusting away some imaginary dirt from his shoulders. A collar of a cobalt blue shirt shows from underneath the unbuttoned, long black winter coat. His hair is combed to the back and glistened with the remains of rain. She wonders, silently, when did it start to rain. And if it streets, will turn icy when the temperature drops even more.

Well, you see. I have a business to attend here, people that owe me, the animals. You hear them here, don't you? All of their filthy thoughts breaking through your skull?

He gives a loud laugh, catching everyone's attention in a 20-meter radius, and she ponders if he always enjoyed being the center of attention.

But then again, you hear them everywhere you go, no place to hide. Yet, there is something about hospitals that attracts them more. It must be the fighting for their lives and the smell of desperation that makes them so loud. Do you enjoy that kind of music, Ms. Walton? Does it please you? All the stained blood that runs in your veins, hammering the vastness of your mind? A pure delight to the body, isn't it?

He gives her a dry smile as he observes her reaction and the fear creeping into the eyes, another cold chill crawling under her skin. Making her freeze and leaving the body almost motionless. And there was no doubt, he enjoyed it and craved it. Any pain that he could cause her brought him delight and pleasure. Then, unexpectedly, with one smooth shift, his face turns professional.

I was looking for you since you have proven to be an annoyingly troubling creature to find off late.

As you said before, it's a public place. I am not exactly hiding in some dark alley or underground bunker. Am I now?

Are you sure? Because you seem to be hiding pretty well in this healer's arms, from what I can see.

She abruptly lets go of Charlie's shoulder and narrows her eyes. She thought that she would have a small break from the shadows that followed her, but no, they found her even here. She could bet his little minions sniffed her out and let him know where she was. Just like the last time, lurking in the darkness and waiting for her with a very particular message. She remembers the tight hands around her neck, the numb stare, and the threat in a low voice, and she flinches. Fingers automatically moving up and touching the skin when traces of bruises still lingered. She tries to focus on their exchange again.

He helps me deal with the pain. Making hell taste just a little better.

My words come out slowly as I use force on each one of them.

Oh, I am sure he is helping you in many ways. Many primitive, yet delectable ways.

Don't even go there, Alister.

So sensitive. Maybe you should get that checked since you're already in a hospital.

He laughs at his little joke, and she tries very hard not to hit him with a chair standing nearby. Nobody messed with Alister and stayed alive to talk about it later. Well, at least in one piece, that is. And she really wanted to keep the parts that still weren't broken. Both physically and mentally.

_____________

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https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses ( the beginning )

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Previous chapters :

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43. https://old.theprose.com/post/442704/doctor-issues

44. https://theprose.com/post/444836/eventually-everything-resurfaces

45. https://theprose.com/post/451637/things-that-find-their-way-to-the-shore

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