Page 4 of Unbreak My Heart
Someone’s hand on mine stops me from reaching my face.
I don’t struggle, but wait to see what will happen, and I squeeze my eyes to ready myself for the blow that will certainly knock me out.
“Don’t touch. You could contaminate it and make it much worse.” The voice is like music, soft and harmonious, even if there is a spot of worry in it.
I don’t want to ask, but the words stumble out like rocks falling from a cliff.
“Did I lose my sight?”
“A good Samaritan found you just in time. Another day and you wouldn’t have been that lucky.”
I hear her walking around me, checking, mumbling, and adjusting whatever she needs to.
What I can’t follow with my eyes, I follow with my ears. Because I still don’t know where I am, and I’m afraid of asking.
But then, the need to know if I’m safe or if I’ll have to run, knowing I won’t get far, trumps my fear of asking.
“Where am I?” My voice is as hesitant as my mind is to know the answer.
“You’re in hospital,” the voice says. Then, becoming even gentler than before. “Try to get some sleep. Your body needs to recover.” A gentle pat on my foot and then the sound of steps moving away fill the room.
I don’t have the time or the strength to jerk away from the touch, and anyway, it was barely there. The thick covers on top of me muffled the contact, keeping my need not to be touched in check. I move my legs away, towards me, just in case she’s back and I don’t realise until it’s too late.
I wait until I’m sure I’m alone. Then, and only then, do I try to move. Even knowing I can’t leave because I can’t see doesn’t stop me from wanting to run. But the fight I’ve always had in me is gone before I can sit up in the bed. My body rebels like a wire touching the water, and sends me lying back once again with a loud groan.
“Damn.” I breathe out once my lungs work again and my teeth stop grinding against each other—an attempt to keep the screams in.
A drop of sweat falls into my eyes, and it’s like a volcano erupting from under the sea, because a breath later tears are falling from my swollen-shut eyes and onto my hand. I move my arm in front of my mouth to muffle my sobs and I sink my teeth into the garment I’m wearing, hoping it’ll be enough to stop the sounds.
I’m not sure how long it lasts, but when I gain a bit of control, my body seems to lose all its strength and follows the gentle suggestion of the nurse. It sends me into a dark world in which I hope I won’t dream.
Chapter Three
Cameron
I hardly recognise him in this emaciated body. Memories of him overlap with this reality.
A muscular but lean body, standing tall and proud as if challenging the world to take him on. Today, the same body has hardly any mass, and he’s so thin that I wonder how many times a week he’s been able to eat. Actually, to be honest, I wonder how many times a month. But this thought is too much to bear, so I force my mind to let it go.
His hunched form seems so small in the hospital bed, and he’s nothing like the Gael I knew.
What scares me more, though, is the aura surrounding him. It doesn’t scream ‘help me’ as I would have expected. Instead, it screams ‘let me die.’
What the fuck happened to him? The question once again fills my head.
He moves nearer to me, but the movement is so subtle I nearly miss it. It’s only because he does it again that it grabs my attention. I don’t say anything because I don’t want to scare him. Instead, I sit there and watch him, wondering what he’ll say to me when we finally talk.
The first thing the nurse said to me when I arrived earlier was that Gael was awake. When I enquired about his condition, she gently but firmly said to ask the doctor. So, I made my way to the room she pointed to. I spent a few seconds outside, trying to gain courage, to quell my anger, and to control my fear.
Then I entered the room, expecting for him to recognise me, for him to tell me to go. What I didn’t expect was to find him asleep, and to have the chance to look at him undisturbed. I’m glad though, because if he was awake, he would see the pity I feel so strongly written on my face. The anger I have every time I think of us, because of what he did, but especially because of the way he did it, is nowhere to be seen now. What fills my heart is pity, the need to care for him, and the pulsating sound of that tiny little spot inside my heart that’s still his.
His, even after all these years.
I spent the first few months after he left crying and wandering around the house like a ghost. Going back to school was a trauma, not only because of the bullying, but because missing Gael was a hundred times worse there. Calling for help and not having him there to save me broke my heart a little every single time.
Once I left school, things became less daunting, but my heart couldn’t cope with the loss. I pushed myself into work and cooking. I made friends and lived a normal life—at least in front of everyone else—but for years, Gael’s presence and smell taunted me in the most unexpected places and times.
The first time I tried to have sex with someone that wasn’t him, I left his place crying because the man didn’t taste like Gael, and his touch wasn’t as warm as Gael’s.