Page 35 of Taming Achilles

She brought her bound hands down and offered them to me. I untied them, and reached to wipe her tears, but she turned away. She got up in one quick movement, pulling her jeans up in one go. Without a word or a backward glance, she walked to the bathroom with the dignity of a queen, despite the evidence of my misdeeds in her rumpled appearance

She slammed the bathroom door shut. I heard the running water of the bath as I got up, following behind her. I stopped at the door and placed my forehead against the wood.

What have I done?

Chapter 16

Pippa

I ran my hand under the faucet. It was as cold as ice. I put my hands into the filling tub until they got used to the temperature and turned pale. When it was full, I lowered myself into the cold, letting it engulf me, squeezing my lungs, taking away my air.

Pain is your friend. Pain tells you that you’re alive. It is a gift that draws you from the turmoil in your mind. Pain is grounding.

But I needed more. So much more. I needed the pain on my flesh to match the aching in my chest. I need pain. It had to freeze my bones so that I couldn’t feel the hurt in the chambers of my heart.

I lowered myself further, up to my chin. Then I closed my eyes, lowering myself again into it until my head was submerged. Under water, it was silent. I blew out my air, watching the bubbles rise. It burned in my lungs.

At least my lungs weren’t my heart. My muscles stiffened, my body had stopped shivering.

Yes. Yes. Yes! Turn your head to this pain. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him … don’t …

I always thought that if I had to die, freezing to death would be ideal. It hurts at first, but people report that you actually stop feeling pain in the end. Your body quietly shuts down, and it’s akin to falling asleep. Maybe drowning would be good. No air in your lungs, you might get high before your body expires.

If Victor has to dispose of me, maybe I could request this. Don’t retire me with a bullet to the head. Plunge me into the arctic waters. Or I could do it myself. I tried to inhale, but it burned, so I stopped.

I wasn’t suicidal. But how lovely would it be not to wake up anymore? Not to fight for air, and face each day? Not to feel that undercurrent of pain and loneliness in every cell of my body, and just feel nothing? Nothing would be so lovely.

I couldn’t kill myself. But maybe I could surrender to death. Surely that was different. No one would miss me. Not really. Maybe Brett …

A shadow fell over me and I was hauled up by my shoulders, sputtering, my ears ringing to the loud shout of my name.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I knew that voice. “Pippa, have you gone mad?”

Geordie shook me, the air coming back into my lungs in agonising gasps. He pulled me out of the water, and the air felt warm against my frigid skin.

“What are you thinking?” He continued to scold.

I felt him taking off his shirt, and he pulled me against his naked chest, tossing a towel over the two of us. His skin burned, his coarse chest hair rough against my sensitive skin.

“Jesus, Pippa. What the fuck? What the fuck? What are you thinking?”

His arms were like a vice, holding me against him, tightening and tightening until I could barely breathe. When I thought I was as close to him as I could be, he held me even tighter, lifting me until I was straddling him, my legs around his waist as he sat on the tile.

It took a minute before I realised he was rocking me, crying into my hair.

“You’re so fucking cold, Pip. What were you thinking?” He was chanting it over and over. He said it like a prayer. “Why the fuck is the water able to get that cold anyway? Jesus. What a fucking design flaw.”

I wanted to laugh at his ramblings, but couldn’t. I didn’t have the energy.

I shivered as my body warmed. Feeling returned to my extremities. His hands rubbed my back. He grabbed another towel and tried to dry my hair, but gave up and just held me against him again.

“Pippa, why?” He pulled my head away, cupping one cheek in his hand, staring down into my face. His eyes were red-rimmed, and glossy. He had shed some tears that were lost in the cold rivulets made by my soaked hair on his skin. “What were you thinking?”

“I like the pain.” Was all I could think to say.

“What?” he said, his face disgusted. “Why?”

“Physical pain makes the other pain go away.”

---