Authors: Lisa de Jong
I locked eyes with his, letting his touch, his smell, permeate my senses. I needed to calm down, and I needed to trust him. I didn’t know why, but that is exactly what I wanted to do.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, cradling my tear-stained face once my shrieks had quieted to whimpers. “Do you want me to call the police? An ambulance? Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
I shook my head furiously, squeezing my eyes shut. “No,” I croaked hoarsely. “I’m ok. I just need to go home. I need to go home, Blaine.”
“Ok, let’s get you up. Do you need me to carry you?”
I shook my head once again but made no move to stand. I couldn’t. I was still utterly frozen with fear. I didn’t even know how I had gotten in that position on the ground. The last thing I remembered was searching for my keys then…
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt too heavy. Too tight. I struggled to fight for just the tiniest breath, yet oxygen had abandoned me.
“Breathe, Kami. Breathe,” Blaine said soothingly, stroking my hair. He took deep, animated breaths as if to demonstrate them to me. I focused on his voice, his touch, those warm brown eyes, and followed his lead.
“Good. That’s good, baby,” he said softly. “Ok, I’m going to unwrap your arms now. Ok? Then we’re going to get up.”
I nodded, afraid that breath would escape me again if I tried to speak. Blaine gently placed his hands on mine and clutched my fingers. Though I couldn’t willingly release my death grip, he somehow freed my knees without resistance from me. Once my hands were balled at my sides, he brought his face close to mine, searching for signs of approval. When he wasn’t met with another scream or sob, he slid his hands under my arms and gently lifted me to my feet.
“Kami, I’m going to go into your purse and get your keys, ok?” he said, still supporting most of my weight. I nodded again, focusing on his soothing voice.
Not having his face to hold my gaze as he rummaged through my purse, my eyes roamed the area around us. They came upon a clump of dark clothing a few yards away, completely still in the night. I couldn’t see a face, but I knew what it was - who it was. Horror rocked me again and I hunched over and vomited, my body heaving violently as it pushed away the remembrance of his hands on me. Blaine jumped back, then maneuvered his body behind mine and gathered my hair in his hands. Once I was absolutely sure that I wouldn’t get sick again, he eased me into the passenger seat of my car.
“Kami…” Blaine turned to me, the steering wheel groaning under his tight grip. His face was full of confusion, pain…anger?
“You’re hurt,” I whispered, noticing his bloodied knuckles.
He shook his head, flexing his hands. “I’m fine. Not my blood.” He knitted his brows together, and then shook his head again. “I need to know where you live. You don’t want the cops, but I can bet that someone heard you screaming and called them. And that piece of shit might wake up soon. I really don’t want to spend the night in jail.”
For some God forsaken reason, his words sparked a memory.
“Did you hear what he did to that guy? I heard they released him from prison early for good behavior.”
I knew it was the most inopportune time for the thought to pop into my head, but I suddenly had the urge to ask him about what that girl said. But I wouldn’t. This wasn’t the time for sharing details of our dark pasts. It would never be the time for that.
I gave Blaine directions to Angel’s condo at The Madison in Uptown Charlotte. I could tell he wanted to ask questions - there was no way I could afford to live there on a bartender’s salary - but he just nodded and cranked up the car. We rode in companionable silence, neither one of us wanting to discuss the events of the evening. There was honestly nothing left to say, and I was thankful that Blaine didn’t push me to talk.
After pulling it together enough to greet the night doorman, we made our way to apt. 1202. Blaine insisted that he see me up to ensure I was ok, and I didn’t object. Having him close distracted my mind from what had just happened. My brain had somehow gone into recovery mode, erasing the moments before Blaine found me on the concrete. I was thankful. I didn’t want to know what he had found in that parking lot. I didn’t want to imagine his horror when he saw me cowering on the ground next to my car, shivering and sobbing into my knees.
The lavish apartment was empty when we entered. I knew Angel would be staying in Raleigh overnight, but I had no clue where Dom was. His car wasn’t parked in one of our assigned spaces, and the alarm system was set. It was unlike him to be out this late on a Sunday and I began to worry about someone other than myself.
“I’m going to make you some tea and run you a bath, ok?” he said once we stepped into living room.
“In my room,” I said nodding towards the hallway. “I have a bathroom in there.”
Without hesitating or thinking about his sore knuckles, Blaine grasped my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Comfort filled me in a way I had never felt before. I wanted to believe that maybe he had sought the same comfort in my touch. Maybe he was scared too.
I led Blaine to my room, something I had never done. Ever. It was my sanctuary. My hideaway. The place I went to when the world got too big, and I felt too small. He pretended not to check it out and walked straight into my bathroom, his hand still in mine. When he pulled it away to start the water and pour in some bath salts, I nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
“Ok, I’ll let you get undressed…and, um, uh…” His eyes roamed my fully dressed body before falling to the floor. It was as if he was ashamed of feeling flustered over the mention of me being naked. But at the moment, I was glad he still found me attractive. I needed it. Knowing that part of him still desired me after seeing me so broken made me feel better, almost whole again.
“Blaine?” I said, just as he turned to exit the bathroom that had suddenly felt small and intimate.
“Yeah?”
I needed to thank him for saving me. Tell him how much it meant to me that he was there. Explain to him what happened to me in that parking lot and earlier at the bar. I swallowed, the taste of vomit a reminder of the shackles that kept me bound in anxiety.
“The kitchen? Off to the right of the living room, past the formal dining room. Tea is in the cabinet over the stove.”
No, I couldn’t tell Blaine no matter how wonderful he had been. He was still a man. He was still one of
them
. He had the potential to hurt and abuse and torture. I wanted to believe that he was different, wanted to believe that
I
could be different, but facts were facts. I still wasn’t what he was looking for.
After he was gone, I eased open the bathroom door that Blaine had closed behind him, shakily letting out the breath I had been holding since he had left. I undressed, praying that he wasn’t peeking at me through the crack in the door. Then I attempted to scrub away the disgust and fear left behind by the evening’s events.
Several minutes later, after my skin was pink and raw and I had washed my hair, I heard a rustle behind the door.
“Kami? I’m, uh, I’ve got your tea, and I didn’t know if you wanted it now or later,” he said nervously, his back turned. It was almost endearing how nervous he was about me being naked just a few feet away from him.
“I’ll be right out,” I called, a sliver of a smile on my face. Before today, a man other than Dom in my personal space would have had me bent over, hyperventilating and trembling. Yet, having Blaine waiting for me on the other side of the door only brought me comfort. I felt cared for, even a little cherished, as I imagined him holding a soothing cup of tea for me.
I brushed my teeth furiously, then stepped out into my bedroom wearing only my terry cloth robe. Blaine was at the windowsill beside my bed looking at framed pictures of me and my roommates, and my collection of little trinkets. Ordinarily, the sight of his hands on my things, disrupting the order of each item, would have sent me into a panic, but for some strange reason, I was completely content. It only gave me the warm feelings of anticipation, eager for him to get just a tiny glimpse of Kamilla Duvall without the mask.
He picked up a paper crane, one of the many pieces of origami that littered my room. “You made this?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid. Keeps my fingers busy.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it aided in keeping my panic attacks at bay. The distraction helped me to put each worry in its own little cubby. Each fear had its place. And when life became too complicated and the fear took over, origami helped me focus them, tucking them away in the forbidden corners of my mind.
Blaine set down the crane and picked up another piece on pastel colored paper. “Thought origami was from Japan.”
“Do you have to be Japanese to eat sushi?” I asked with a raised brow.
“Right,” he remarked, embarrassment painting his face.
I walked over to the steaming mug on my dresser when I noticed the door. It was closed. I was in my room, alone with a man, and the door was closed.
NoNoNoNo.
As casually as I could, my trembling hand threatening to spill the hot tea, I walked over and opened it, keeping it cracked just enough for me to know that it was open. If Blaine noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, holding up a glass jar filled with tiny paper stars.
“Just some stars I’ve been collecting.”
He shook it then set it down. “Looks like a lot of them.”
“253,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Huh?”
I took a sip of the tea to give my mouth something to do before it betrayed me further. “Two hundred and fifty-three. That’s how many stars are in the jar.”
I should have been adding lucky number 254 to that jar after what happened tonight. Hell, to be honest, my freak out at the bar warranted a star. But Blaine was here, and the impulse to record those fears was stifled for the time being.
His eyes continued to survey my space, his fingers grazing everything as if he were reading Braille. He was taking it all in, taking
me
all in. Blaine was absorbing his surroundings in hopes of getting to know me.
He made his way to the acoustic guitar in the corner of my bedroom. “You play?”
“A little,” I shrugged.
He gently ran his fingers over the strings before looking at me with wary eyes, searching my expression for signs of distress. “How are you feeling?”
I tried to give him a smile, but it felt forced. I settled for a nod. “I’m ok. I’m not even really sure what happened.”
Blaine approached me in three easy strides and eased the mug of tea from my hands, before ushering me to the bed. We sat side by side, our knees and shoulders touching, as he gathered his thoughts.
“I came out to try to stop you from leaving. To talk to you. I was locking up when I heard you cry. That
sonofabitch
had his hands on you,” he said through tightly clenched teeth, his fists balled on his thighs. “I don’t really know what happened after that. I snapped. All I saw was red. He was touching you, and I wanted to kill him.”
Blaine turned to look at me, his jaw ticking violently with contempt. “I shouldn’t have let you walk away. I should have seen you to your car, and for that, I am truly sorry. I just keep thinking what would’ve happened if I was two minutes later. I can’t get the image of you standing there, frozen with terror, out of my damn head. God, Kami… I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”
“What happened wasn’t your fault.” The words fell from my lips unconsciously. I had been told the same countless times. I figured it was the go-to phrase for times like these. “I’m ok, I swear. Go on home. You can even take my car if you want.”
Instinctively, I reached out and placed my hand on his, causing him to release the strain on his knuckles. I didn’t know why I did it; there was just an impulse to touch him, to comfort him. I knew what it felt like to be absolutely stripped of control. Our reactions may have differed but the fear, the anger, was the same.
Blaine turned his palm and laced his fingers with mine, his fingertips massaging the back of my hand gently. “Kami…” He exhaled a breath, then his brown eyes were locked with mine. Being that we were so close, our arms, legs and thighs nearly fused together, the moment felt too intimate. I felt exposed, naked and vulnerable under his gaze, but the feel of his skin was a soothing balm to my soul. I could feel my body growing warm and damp, and this time it had nothing to do with a panic attack.
“Blaine?” I whispered. I don’t know why, but just saying his name made that warmth spread. I imagined saying it over and over.
Screaming it. Crying it.
He licked his lips before rolling his tongue, coaxing the metal barbell while he contemplated his next words. “I know you say that you’re ok. But shit, I don’t think
I’m
ok. I have no right to ask this, but…can I stay here with you tonight?”
At the sight of my widening eyes, he quickly continued. “I don’t mean like that. It’s just…I know what happened to you was traumatizing. And seeing you react the way you did, seeing how afraid you were, I know that’s not the first time you’ve been in that situation. You don’t have to tell me anything; you don’t have to explain yourself to me. But right now, I need to be near you. I need to see you. And if you let me, I need to hold you.”
Words failed me. They were literally ripped from my brain and replaced with all things Blaine. He encompassed every one of my senses. I couldn’t see beyond this moment with him.
Long seconds ticked by before a simple nod took him out of his misery, causing him to sigh with relief. I didn’t know what had come over me. Was I really about to let him spend the night? In my bedroom? In my
bed
? But after what had happened, and Dom being M.I.A., I couldn’t think of a good reason not to let him stay. I wanted him there. I wanted to let him hold me and chase away the nightmares I knew would visit me the moment I closed my eyes.
“Thank you,” he muttered, bringing his other hand up to stroke my cheek. “Seriously, I think I would’ve gone crazy worrying about you if I went home. I feel horrible about what happened.”