Ariana’s POV –
I sit back against the coffee coloured couch, the leather squeaking against my clothing. This isn’t a couch made for com-fort, it’s made to simply look . . . professional. I wriggle around a few times before eventually sighing and giving up on finding a comfortable position. Next I worry about where to place my hands, by my side or maybe on my knees? I chew on my lower lip and decide to keep them clasped near my stomach. I fiddle with my fingernails, the nerves inside me be-ginning to increase by the second.
“Comfortable?” Beverley Hurst asks me, glancing over at me from her moon shaped glasses. I nod my head and bow my head, hiding behind my hair. I’m not comfortable being here, in this artificial room with a shrink that doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to be inside my mind.
“Yes, I’m comfortable.” I mumble a response, sighing as I glance down at my watch. Fifty five minutes remaining of my session before I’m free to lock myself in the house and stay safe behind closed doors.
“Good. Today I thought we’d start working on one of your bigger problems.” She says firmly, taking her notepad out and glancing down at the page. I nod my head —
“Sleeping.”
“Yes, sleeping. How are you getting on? Is the medication helping at all?” Beverley asks me, her tone becoming hopeful. I shake my head, chewing on my lower lip again.
“No, the sleeping pills don’t help. I stay up most of the night, watching movies or scrolling through my phone.” I tell her. I glance down at my watch and inwardly groan, another fifty three minutes to go.
“The longer you stare at the clock, the longer it feels like you’re here with me.” She says softly. I quickly look up, a red tint covering my cheeks. I mumble an apology and she smiles.
“Don’t worry about it Ariana. Most of my patients who walk through that door don’t want to be here until they start seeing progress. That’s when their attitude really changes.”
“When will I start seeing progress?” I ask her, wondering when the nightmares and fear of being kidnapped again will stop. I know my captor is dead but that doesn’t stop the flashbacks or the inability to close my eyes when the darkness comes.
“Everybody is different. Some people see it immediately and others don’t see it for a while. The most important thing is to try.” Beverley tells me, placing one leg over the other. She leans forward slightly, creating less distance between us.
“Are you still having nightmares?”
Her question causes me to still for a moment until I eventually nod, the chill in my body spreading and invading all the warmth.
“Yes.”
“Okay, talk me through your most frequent one.”
“Do I have to?” I mumble, swallowing the emotions that are currently building in the back of my throat. I can feel the fa-miliar sting of tears hit the back of my eyes and I clear my throat, fiddling with my fingers again.
“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to but it will help.” Beverley says softly and I sigh, closing my eyes. I want to start feeling better but the task of talking through my problems seems almost impossible. I become awkward, un-comfortable and the fear begins to grow at a faster rate. There’s a little voice in the back of my mind that is urging me to speak to the therapist, let her in so that she can really help me.
I take a deep breath, feel the oxygen spread throughout my body and open my mouth to begin.
*****
Alex’s POV –
My phone rings for the fifth time and I choose to ignore it . . . for the fifth time. I wrap my hands around the steering wheel and lean forward, resting my head against it. The cool leather presses against my hot forehead and I inhale sharply. There’s a whirlwind of emotions running through me and the alcohol stirring inside my stomach doesn’t help.
I try to recall what I’ve done for the past two weeks but all I can seem to remember is the bottom of several vodka and gin bottles. I slowly turn my head, my eyes squinting in the darkness as I study the house I’ve stared at for the past week. No-one has noticed me sat across the street, my car turned off with nothing but the silence to keep me company.
I sometimes sit here, staring up at her bedroom window as I try to imagine what she’s doing inside those walls. Is she sleep-ing? What does she dream of?
I often worry that I’ll end up forgetting her sweet face but the truth is, I’ll never forget that soft smile and her deep grey eyes. The way she touched me, the way she made me feel like I was the strongest man in the entire world. The muscles in my arm twitch to hold her again, wrap my arms around her and whisper to her that nothing bad will ever happen. . .
How can I tell her something that isn’t true?
I’m the evil that she’s been followed by her entire life. I am the darkness that she needs to be dragged away from. My phone rings for the sixth time and I glance down at it, seeing Caleb’s contact flash across the screen. I slowly reach for it and answer the call, bringing the phone up to my ear.
“Alex? Hello?”
“Hey,” I respond, my voice a hoarse whisper. Caleb pauses on the other end before sucking in an annoyed breath.
“God damn it, have you been drinking again? Alex, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do I need to sign you up for AA meetings, huh?” Caleb says firmly, his voice rising as he speaks.
“What do you want?” I ask him, ignoring his outburst. I know his intentions are good but I don’t have the energy to deal with Caleb.
“What do I want? I want my best friend back. I haven’t seen you in like a week man.” Caleb replies, his voice a little softer this time. I can hear the desperation in his words and a familiar stab of pain flows through my chest because I’m hurting somebody else I care about.
“Sorry man.” I mumble an apology, hanging my head in shame. There’s a pause on the other end before he speaks again.
“Where are you?”
I turn my head to glance at Ariana’s house again. All the lights are turned off beside from the living room. I wonder whether it’s her or her parents watching the television inside.
“Nowhere.” I say quietly, my eyes fixed on the living room window.
“You’re at her house again, aren’t you? I already told you it’s going to end bad. It’s not healthy for you to do that Alex.” Caleb tells me. It sounds like he’s pacing on the other end of the phone and I grunt out a response.
“I’ll come and get you. Don’t you dare turn that car on whilst you’ve been drinking.”
“Okay.” I murmur, resting my head against my steering wheel again. My eyelids flutter closed and I breathe softly, exhaus-tion washing over my body.
“Alex, do not drive. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.” Caleb says firmly. I groan in protest —
“Yes, I will not drive. I’ll throw my keys out the damn window if that’ll make you happy.” I tell him. He scoffs on the oth-er end.
“Enough of the sarcasm. Hang tight, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I end the call, dropping my phone into my lap. It’s not long before I feel sleep washing over my body, the living room light in Ariana’s house still fresh in my mind.
*****
When I wake up, I find myself in the back seat of a car. I lift my head up and regret it as dizziness washes over me. A low groan leaves my lips and I attempt to open my eyes again. Caleb is sat in the drivers seat and he turns his head, glancing down at me. His eyes are full of concern, mixed with a hint of frustration.
“Don’t you dare throw up in my car.”
“I won’t.” I mutter, closing my eyes. The movements of the car underneath me cause the nausea inside my body to intensi-fy. I groan again, struggling to keep down the contents of my stomach. Caleb drives over a bump and the car bounces me around, throwing me sideways.
“Fuck,” I groan, attempting to sit up. I turn to glimpse at Caleb and he’s driving silently, his jaw locked with tension.
“I thought you hated me.” I mutter, the alcohol beginning to seep it’s way inside my brain. Alcohol brain, I’ve experienced it way too much over the past few weeks.
“I don’t hate you.” Caleb mutters in response, shifting in his seat.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask him.
“Because you’re spiralling into a dark hole and I can’t watch you do that to yourself. This whole blaming yourself for the Ariana situation has got to stop. Do you think your Mum would be proud of you for the way you’re acting? Drinking every night? She wouldn’t, even I know that.” Caleb says sternly, almost telling me off. I think of my mother and I know he’s right, she’d be disappointed.
“I can’t stop.” I tell him, my words weak. The back of my throat is sore and scratchy, my eyes sting and my body is slowly breaking down. I can’t remember the last time I ate a vegetable or drank water or even worked out. I’m slowly killing my-self and I can’t stop it.
“It breaks my heart to see you like this man. I’m going to do everything I can to help you, I want the old Alex back. You’re my damn family, I won’t give up on you.” Caleb says, keeping his eyes trained straight ahead. I look at him and wonder how he’s keeping it all together, even after everything he’s gone through.
“Brothers.” I murmur and he nods his head, his voice softening considerably.
“Yeah, brothers.”