The pain is within you. It's not raging, nor near its height, but it's there. It flows through your veins like a slow, lazy virus and it's urging you to wake up.
The damaged hand is throbbing with pain. The pain is filling your body, filling your mind, consuming and hot and hateful. You know you can't make it disappear, just let it flow through you for long enough that eventually, you're feeling nothing.
You open your eyes, not asleep and not dreaming and fully aware of your surroundings.
(Your surroundings are a cold dark room that isn't yours and a hard hard floor and white white white ceiling that you hate with a passion).
You look at your damaged hand. Even in the dark, you can see your two missing fingers are covered in blood. Your palm is covered in blood and your three remaining fingers are sticky and wet and smell like iron. (They are covered in blood).
You put your right hand above the damaged left one and squeeze hard your palm. The pain is overwhelming and you're full of it. The flesh is hot and painful and you think you can feel the tips of the missing digits throbbing with steady, phantom pulses of pain.
From the tips of your hair all the way down to your toes, the pain is everywhere. (It's everywhere everywhere everywhere). The memories are gobbling it up. The anger that lives in your chest is a thirsty demon and it raises it's ugly head and it's drinking from this consuming, hot, hot, overwhelming pain.
You cry out a soft cry. The pain is everywhere, white and flaming, and cold. Every cell in your body is twitching and electric, full of this hateful hateful hateful pain.
You squeeze your palm tight and let out a deep deep deep breath.
You stand and you go to the bathroom and you turn on the cold water. When you move your hand, the pain is throbbing bolts of electric red and white lightning through your body.
You carefully avoid the mirror above the sink and you place the missing fingers under the stream of cold water. Drops of blood hit the marble and you wipe them clean with your good hand.
You hate the blood.
The water meets the flesh and everything is pink. The blood and water run down the drain and disappear. The cold cauterizes the pain and you lick your lips to try and conceal the sigh you know will be far too loud for this night, even though you're alone and there is no one to hear your sigh or your moan or you soft soft miserable cry.
Finally, the pressure from the water seal the wounds and closes the torn ends of the broken vessels. The hand throbs but it doesn't bleed anymore and it's not so bad. You've grown used to being constantly in some sort of pain. (The other wounds are closed and already formed new scars around your body. The hand is the only thing that still tends to act up).
You wrap some clothes around you and put on your sneakers. They are torn and old and dirty, like everything you own, but it'll do for tonight.
You go outside and you feel immediately the cold. It's strong and bitter and angry. it's hard and it's tense and it bites at your face and at the exposed skin of your hands and your wounded hand throbs and pulses and hurts.
The darkness is thick and you like it. You start walking and you walk quickly. The streets are empty at this time of night and you find you remember the way like it hasn't been so long (too long) since you last strolled these streets. But you remember and you walk and you shiver and You avoid the lights and the windows, sticking to the shadows.
(You feel safe in the shadows and you don't deny yourself this small comfortable pleasure).
You find your way quick enough and it takes you to Joel's old house. It's dark and nobody lives there. You figure someone would, but it seems like either Tommy is too sentimental or people are respectful enough to leave this place alone.
You don't care what's the reason, you're just glad it's empty.
As you approach the house, your eyes register a single dark figure, wrapped up in blankets, sitting on the steps to the front porch.
Your heart gives a leap and you freeze in place. Dina is looking at you and her smile is big and her eyes are dark and shining and she stands without words, opens her arms and steps forward. You stand there as she opens the blanket and envelopes you withing it.
She is warm and soft and she kisses your cheek, wraps her arms around you, and holds you. Her arms are strong and soft and loving and she smells like home. She's whispering in your ear.
"I knew you'd come here".
(This is not what you've imagined and not what you've prepared for and you feel like crying like screaming, like laughing).
"I didn't".
"Yes, you did".
She releases you a little, enough to gain space. She steps aside and looks at your face. You expect to see some sort of anger or disappointment or disgust in her eyes, but all you see is relief and love and maybe a hint of sadness.
(And love and love and love).
You're a little afraid to touch her, so you don't. she moves forward and kisses down your cheek to the edge of your mouth. Then she looks at you from the corner of her eye and when you don't move she opens her mouth and kisses you on your lips, hot and familiar, and everything like herself.
Your lips meet and it's sweet and eager than beautiful. You missed her mouth and you missed her smell and you missed her presence. You kiss fast and then slow and then fast again. you kiss soft and hard and pressing and seeking and sought. You kiss loving. You kiss missing. You kiss with everything that you've got.
"I'm scared." Dina says in a small broken whisper when the kiss is over and both of you are out of breath.
"Of me?" you say and your hand is throbbing throbbing throbbing, painful and malicious and angry.
"No".
"I'm not gonna hurt you," you say and your voice is small and shaking. you try to pour as much confidence as you can in your words. (It comes out as small and childish and so damn scared).
"I'm not gonna leave again".
"I know".
You look at her and her face is so close to you she's a little blurred. Her eyes are clear and glimmering, almost black in the thick thick darkness of the night. They are clear and strong and you don't deserve it but there is infinite gentleness in them and you love her so much.
"I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I did and I don’t know how to fix this".
You take a deep breath and you are scared. You've never been this scared in your entire life. You shake and you know there is nothing that will change the past and nothing that will help you forget. It is what it is because of you and because of the decisions you made and you feel like a failure and you feel like an embarrassment and you feel sick and humiliated and helpless.
"Ellie," Dina says your name in a stern kind of voice. She puts her hands on your face, each hand on each side of your head, and she keeps your gaze steadily on her. You want to run and you want to hide and you want to disappear, but you keep your eyes on her.
(You have nowhere to run).
Dina is staring at you, hard and dark, and the blanket is hanging from her shoulders. The night is cold but you're not because she's pressed into you and she has her hands on your face and this is everything you ever wanted.
(Dina's eyes are deep and dark and angry, but she's not angry at you and you don't get it).
(You don't get it).
"Ellie," she says your name like a prayer. like a hymn. "I wish things were different, too, but there's nothing either of us can do to change what has happened. It's in the past and I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want you to think about it. I want us to accept everything that has happened and let it go. I want us to move on. If you promise me to do your best, I won't ask for anything else".
"I love you." You tell her and a shiver goes through your body, raising goosebumps because you do love her and you don't know how to make her understand.
"I love you, too".
"I'm kinda scared." You say, tasting your voice.
"Me too," Dina answers with a soft smile.
"It's scary".
"I know".
"And I'm not gonna leave you again".
(You want her to say 'I know' and 'I believe you'. You want her to say 'you're a fucking lier' and 'you already did'. You want her to say 'fuck you' you want her to say 'don't ever ever leave me again' you want her to say 'you should have stayed away').
Dina is just staring at you, soft and gentle, and everything like home.
"Good." Is what she says and you love her you love her you love her.
//
Dina is smiling. You test your own muscles. you smile back.
Then she looks away for a moment, and then looks back at you. Her smile disappears and the brightness of her eyes fades and then (for a moment, you panic) she is kissing you again. You kiss her back and you think she is the softest and the most loving and the most beautiful woman in the world.
You think there is no one you would rather be with.
You think you don't deserve her.
(You think you're the luckiest asshole in the whole damn world).
Your heart is pounding hard in your chest and every beat shoots throbbing pain into your damaged hand. Every heartbeat sends hot spiking pleasure through your veins.
Dina's cheeks are pink and you taste her on your lips.
"What?" you say, softly.
And then Dina, strong beautiful smiling Dina, is not kissing you anymore and not holding you anymore and not saying strong beautiful things anymore.
Instead, she starts crying.
She cries heavy violent tears that turn into heaving violent sobs. She shakes and you can feel her heart through layers and layers of clothes and pain and flesh and bone.
She's crying and there are no words. You hold her with shaking hands, pull her closer. She's always been so strong and so sure and so happy, you don't know what to do, so you just hug her and let her cry.
"I'm not going anywhere." You tell her and she cries.
"I'm not going to hurt you, ever again." you tell her and she cries.
"I'm right here." You tell her and you hold her and you kiss the top of her head and she cries and cries and cries, young and scared and angry and relieved.
(She cries and you hold her and you kiss the top of her head).
(You've done this. You know it's your fault. and hot panic settles in your chest and you are having trouble breathing. You can't take her crying for things you've done. You don't want her to take responsibility for your choices and your shortcomings and your stupid decisions. You can't let her try to accept any of the blame. You have created this situation and you made the decisions that led you to where you are now and Dina has nothing nothing nothing to cry for).
You tell her that.
"Babe," you say softly and you put your hand, your good hand, on her shoulder. You shake her a little.
Dina stops crying. Her face is wet and streaked and stained with tears, but she doesn't seem to care. She is looking at you and you pull her closer. She sniffles and you take a deep breath and tighten your hold around her shuddering warm small body.
"I'm so so sorry".
"I know".
"Please stop crying".
She nods and takes a deep breath to try and compose herself. Both of you are tired, exhausted. You know something has changed and the change drained both of you.
You keep standing close together, arms around each other, warm and strong and refusing to let go.
"Where is JJ?" you ask softly.
Dina chuckles. "With Jesse's parents".
"Can I see him tomorrow?"
She looks at you with surprise and hurt and softness. "Of course".
"He won't remember me." You say quietly, with a heavy heart, and the truth of it hits you like a ton of bricks. It's pure pain and you deserve it you deserve it you deserve it.
Dina hugs you. She squeezes you softly and you hold her tights. You feel a little better and the pain in your damaged hand isn't as bad as before. The throb is still there, but it's softer. Easier to endure.
"He'll be happy to see you".
"It's been six months".
Dina nods. "He'll be happy to see you." She says and just like that, you believe her.