Page 37 of Collateral Damage

“Hey…” Even touching her arm she doesn't flinch, she's frozen like stone, in a state of shock and its crippling me seeing her this way.Why the fuck do I care so much.

I scrap the talking knowing full well that's the last thing she wants to do and grip her tightly feeling her melt into my hold. Resenting every second I'm comforting her. I never had anyone to comfort me. Maybe I resent it because I mourn for it. Someone to actually give a shit.She collapses her body weight into my chest as she lets go of two months worth of agony, clawing my forearms so tightly her nails are indenting my skin and I know there is direct anger toward me amongst her strength.

She's kept it together for so long and she's finally cracked, she's staining me with her discomfort, trying to find comfort in the very person who put her in this mess, it's like trying to throw water on a roaring fire, you think it's helping when in reality, it's fuelling theflame further.

“I'm sorry…” I whisper lightly down her ear, quiet enough that she can't hear my blasphemy. I don't ever apologise. It's something foreign to me and just speaking those words aloud goes against everything I am. I can't apologise when I'msmothered inSin. Sorry will never make up for the damage I've done. I don't know what this means for us, or what we do now. But right now, I hold her, I let her break, I let her crumble. I stop fighting for her to find her strength.Right now, I am her strengthand we'll figure the rest out later.

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Play - ‘Save Me – XXXTENTACION’

She's been out for a few hours, exhausting herself to sleep as I sit here like a relative waiting for her to wake in a hospital bed. The only time she ever looks at peace is when she sleeps, even more so with my boy cuddled up next to her keeping her warm. He’s not left her side either and I don’t think either of us want to wake her. Just as much as I'm scarily starting to not want to let her out of my sight. I roll my stiff neck out, leaning over my weight, slumped into my hands feeling my leg twitch restlessly my mind going over everything I said. If she hadn't pushed me, I don't ever think I would have told her the truth. Why? Could be fear. Could be guilt. Could be both.I knew telling her may possibly ruin whatever good streak we had going, as messy as it was, it was comfortable.

Now we're back to square one, learning a new me and a new her. Everything she knew was a lie, and when she wakes she's going to have to accept this new version of her life. I just hope I've toughened her up enough for her to be able to handle it.

My impulses win and the back of my finger finds her soft cheek, warm beneath my touch as she rolls into my pillow, cracking open her eyes and I've never felt such relief.

“Hey thereLittle Dreamer…” I stand slowly, approaching her timidly like she's an injured doe.

“I thought Ilostyou there…” She whispers.Did she just recite my words? I choke back a smile as she takes a deepbreath, pushing her body up off the bed to give all her attention to me.

“How are you feeling?” It's a stupid question. But I ask anyway. Maybe the sleep wore off some of her dejection.

“Lost.” I psychically feel my heart sink. Even ripped of everything there was still so much behind those eyes, but right now there isnothing.

“If I could take it back. I would.” I perch beside her and this time she doesn't move away from me.

“You said you'd of killed him that night.”I did. And part of me still would. But if I knew she was in the equation I would never have taken her life from her. Not like this.This was before I met her.“I won't excuse what he did to you…I'm sorry. You had every right to be angry.” There’s that damn word again. And if she wasn't so sad right now I'd keep up my end of the deal and make her chew goddamn soap.

“Innocence. Just- don't.” I'm not going to sit here and listen to her take pity in me. That is not why I did this.

“Do you wanna talk about it… about him….” I know she means the devil himself. And I'd rather take a bullet than bring him up.

“Not right now.” Why would I want to talk about that pile of shit…I'd rather eat it.

“I'm not the only one hurting right now. I'm not blind. I'm just trying to help…I'm trying to understand…” This isn't a therapy session. I'm not going to be counselled over my dead father, I'd rather celebrate and shoot shit.

“What more do you want from meAlora?…” I can feel my temperature rising at the thought of him as she continues to push me.

“For you to be honest with me.” She can't be serious. I've just told her everything and she's still accusing me of hoarding secrets!?

“I've been honest with you!” I shoot up off the bed, pacing to ease my short fuse. The last thing she needs right now is me getting angry.

“Look! I just want to know how you dealt with this! This- pain! This- aching!” She's trying to seek that information from me? Does she forget I find enjoyment in hearing scumbags beg for mercy?

“I didn't! This! This is me dealing with it! I kill people and it makes me feel good! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” I never got time to deal with the shitty card’s life dealt me. If I had, maybe I wouldn't repeat my fathers ways as a coping mechanism for my freakish appetite.

“You don't kill just anyone. I read those files Hays. There's a method to your madness.” She pays far too much attention; it's starting to get on my nerves.Wants to know me,kind of attention.

“I kill people who cheated death.” She focuses on my words and reads right between the lines.

“People like your father…” One death is too merciful for a monster like him. His face appears on every life I eradicate, it haunts the very walls I live in until I can’t see it anymore, until his face appears inside another and for a mere moment, my serotonin levels spiral as I see his face,until it disappears for a while, and the cycle continues. A never-ending loop of unfulfilled rage, chasing a life that is already dead just to feel something. Just to fill this empty hole that is only getting bigger.

That is how I cope.

“Do you want a gold medal?” There is stillness smothering the room as we sit in one another's musing.

“If things turned out differently. Maybe we would have met in different circumstances.”

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