Page 26 of Phoenix
“Hey!” Someone whisper shouts to me from the direction of my bedroom door, but I’m so disorientated from the nightmare, I can’t make out who it is. “Hey, it’s me, Jessie, it’s Warren; remember?”
I feel his body slip inside the bed next to me, the mattress dipping below his furnace-like skin and his tattoos wrapping around his arms that are currently reaching out for mine. I can’t answer him, I can only nod my head while I try to take in deep breaths to calm myself. He lets me, and waits patiently until eventually, I am just staring at him.
“Nightmare?” he asks. He knows exactly how it feels to suffer from terrors in the dark, so I simply nod again. “You want me to stay or go?”
“Stay,” I reply without pause for thought.
He looks right into my eyes for a moment or two and with a slight smile gracing his lips before we both slip down onto the bed. I flinch when he cradles me inside of his arms, but I soon warm up with his perpetual body heat radiating out from him. It’s not long until I calm myself within his embrace; I even feel comforted…safe. It takes me back to when Jake would have to hold me in order to fall asleep. And soon, I do. I fall into blackness, sleeping until morning without him turning up inside of my dreams.
I wake to see Warren still lying next to me, stretched out with one arm tucked under his head and the other hovering over his bits and pieces. I smile to myself over the memory of Jake sleeping like this, almost every night. It’s strange because I always thought it was cute on Jake, but with Warren it stirs lustful thoughts within me, making me remember that one night we had together. My cheeks begin to heat up and I suddenly have an urge to move away from him, to get myself to the bathroom where I can hide any evidence of my embarrassment.
That night had been so alien for me, so out of character, I half wonder if I had been momentarily possessed by somebody else. But then, when I look at him, chewing on my nail in thought over it, I can’t see how any hot-blooded woman could resist the man lying before me. And, for that night, when he warmed me from the inside out, I did become a real, live, heart-beating woman. But then, when I woke up to find him gone, I returned to being cold, just as I always am.
“Mm,” he groans, making me jump on the spot in front of the bed where I have been staring. “Morning.”
“Er…hi,” I whisper before quickly grabbing one of his sister’s robes to cover up.
“Shit,” he says with a smile, “we need to get you some clothes. You can’t keep slumming it in Lou’s old stuff. What say I take you into town today? In fact, I could ask Lou to go with you. It may come as a surprise when I tell you I’m not very knowledgeable when it comes to women’s clothing.”
“That’s ok, I don’t mind,” I rush out, “I’m ok wearing your sister’s cast-offs if she no longer wants them.”
“Honestly, Jess, it’s on me,” he replies, getting out of bed and stretching up even taller than he normally is, rendering me completely speechless. I blame that on the small piece of heat I can still feel radiating off him. “I owe you, so I’ll pay for anything you want.”
“I said I’m fine!” I snap more harshly than I meant to, which only makes him look at me with suspicion. I try to shy away from it but the guy’s a big brother, and one who had to play the role of a mom too.
“Jess!” he demands when I turn around to try and escape back inside the bathroom; the authority in his voice makes me freeze on the spot. “Turn around.”
When I finally do as he instructed, I try to act nonchalant, to hide my fear. Though I needn’t have bothered because he’s now looking at me like he’s caught me sneaking in after curfew. I suddenly feel sorry for Louisa having to grow up under his watchful eyes; in fact, I suddenly have a curiosity to meet her.
“Talk to me, Jess,” he says both softly and reproachfully, all at the same time, and with his arms crossed and those damn tattoos flexing at me.
“I’m afraid, alright? Is that what you wanna hear?” I ask him in barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want to go outside in the open because that’s where he took me; it’s where I lost my life. I was ripped away from my home, my family, my childhood, everything I knew, and it all happened out there, Warren.”
“Jess, I understand, and I half as much guessed at that, but out there is a big place, and I will be with you every step of the way, I promise. I’ll even brave it around the underwear section.”
“I appreciate that, Warren, really, but please-”
“You can’t stay inside for the rest of your life, Jess,” he says softly, edging toward me with his hands held up in the air. “We’ll go on my bike, go to one store, and then come straight back again. Come on, Jess, trust me!”
“No, I really don’t want to-”
“Jess-”
“Don’t make me!” I shout, no longer able to argue with him because I don’t have the strength.
Thankfully, my raised voice, the trembling in my hands, and the heat in my cheeks is enough to make him stop. But it doesn’t wipe away that look of disappointment; I know that reaction well. I’ve seen it every day from my parents ever since I escaped back home. The longing for me to turn back into the daughter they remember, the little girl who is no longer there, no longer part of their ‘normal’ world. In fact, after a few moments of staring at each other, he shuffles back from the door, smiles tightly, then exits altogether.
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Phoenix
As I stare out toward the few men who choose to frequent this place in the day, a collection of die-hards with nothing better to do on a Tuesday lunchtime, I can’t help thinking about Jessie being stuck indoors for the rest of her life. I guess we’re like a mirror, her and I, with my tragedy taking place trapped inside of a house, and hers being out in the open with no one to see her being taken. I can’t bear the thought of being stuck inside forever more, to not be able to fly through the wind on my bike, or to forever be confined to four walls and a bed. Jess, on the other hand, can’t stomach the idea of not being hidden behind a shield.
If I really think about it, the air is my salvation; the clean, fresh air. Some people crave the ocean or the sand beneath their feet, but for me, it will always be the air rushing through my hair, over my skin, and in my lungs. It doesn’t take a genius to know where my need for fresh air comes from. First, the fire - the thick, black smoke infecting my mother’s pink lungs - then my father with nicotine gluing his together with black tar. My need to escape that has always had me running for my bike; to ride so fast, I can physically feel the air permeating my skin.
Before I decide to blow the bar and make a quick getaway on my bike, my phone springs to life, showcasing my sister’s name across the cracked screen. I could have replaced it but what’s the point when I frequently lose my shit with it. I’ve thrown these things across the room so many times I’ve now lost count.
“What?” I huff because I’m still pissed off about what she and Jake decided to do.