Golden

54

– Spring –

Lucy's POV

I breathed in the fresh, spring air through my nose, inhaling the sweet scent of wild flowers and lush greenery as the wind picked up and brushed the stray strands of my messy hair off my face. A gentle breeze tickled my cheeks as I lifted my face to the cloudless sky that was crystal clear and bright even at such an early hour. The rising sun warmed my skin as I sighed deeply, stepping off the cabin's creaky porch steps and lightly padding across the bouncy lawn, wriggling my bare toes in the dewy grass, relishing in its softness. I strained my ears and heard the soft wind chimes from the porch in the distance, finding comfort in the quiet and stillness that surrounded me.
I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this at peace.
But it hadn't been anywhere close to easy getting here...

– Autumn –

"Lucy! Lucy! Over here! Tell us – how are you feeling?"
"Do you have any comment on the most recent allegations?"
"Will you testify in court?"
"What are your thoughts on the other women? Did you know? Did anyone warn you?"
"Have you spoken to John since his arrest?"
Hearing his name being screamed at me from a crowd of faceless paparazzi was almost too much to bear.
I covered my face with my trembling hand, willing myself not to break down right there on the sidewalk even though my legs felt like jelly and my stomach was in knots. I kept my head down and hastily climbed into the back of a waiting car, shielding myself from the overwhelming invasive inquiries and blinding flashbulbs.
I slammed the door shut once I was fully inside the backseat, thankful for a solid barrier between myself and their brutal onslaught of questions that made me feel like I was the one on trail even though I had done nothing wrong. I swallowed harshly and exhaled to steady myself, holding back fresh, hot tears, as we carefully pulled out into the busy streets of New York, leaving the hunters with cellphones in the dust.
I didn't know how anyone knew I had returned to the city, but word of my unexpected arrival spread like wild fire through the pages of the diabolical tabloids and engulfed me in the flames of their sinister stories. I couldn't escape it: the incessant clicking of the cameras lenses, the prying, chilling remarks, the insensitive questions from complete strangers, the suspicious stares from everyone I encountered no matter how briefly. I felt trapped, suffocated and so alone the moment I was completely surrounded by the swarms of faceless paps; but I had no where else to go. I knew I had to face this – all of it – now, ready or not.
And I was definitely not as ready as I wanted to be.
"Not exactly a warm welcome back," Frank noted somberly from the front driver's seat, snapping me back into my body from my wandering thoughts. I met his stoic gaze in the rear view mirror as he turned on the windshield wipers just as a few raindrops began to fall on the glass. I saw the sympathy in his eyes in the reflection, which made my stomach twist into an even tighter knot. I willed myself not to let him see me cry as he added, "I'm sorry."
I had done my best to mentally prep for the inevitable influx in public interest around my deeply private and tight-lipped personal life, though right now I felt like I was dangerously close to being ripped to shreds if I didn't fight back to protect my privacy and let's face it: my sanity. There were many times over the last few months where I didn't feel like I deserved much of anything; but I knew now that I did deserve to be treated with respect and dignity, especially when it came to this hell I had been living in for far too long, a situation that should be treated delicately and certainly not be up for universal debate, discussion and dissection. And the longer the days dragged on for, the more emboldened I became. I was still terrified of the unknown and what was to come, but I didn't dread waking up anymore. I didn't feel as helpless or broken as before. It almost felt like I was growing a new skin: I still raw and tender and sensitive, but I knew I could handle this pain and I could weather this storm.
I didn't admit it to anyone yet, fearing that if I said this out loud, all of my confidence would suddenly drain from my body and evaporate before I could hold onto it, but...
I felt okay. I felt stronger. I felt better.
I felt good.
Even in my moments of challenging weakness and daunting doubt, in the very back of my mind, I clung desperately to a barely detectable whisper that was softly reminding me: this won't last forever. This feeling of hopelessness would subside one day. This pain wouldn't be for evermore.
When I realized that the entire world knew about what had transpired between me and John, I figured it was best to rip the bandaid off and go back to face it, despite knowing how grueling it would be. Though I was still nervous about leaving the quiet and secluded bubble of my hometown, part of me just wanted to get it over with. I thought I would be ready enough to return to the city and the public eye; though nothing could really properly prepare me for the intrusive and brutal barrage from the press that reared its ugly head the moment I stepped foot outside and the photographers spotted me. It was like I had been released to the wolves: unguarded, defenseless and completely vulnerable.
But underneath all of my fear and uncertainty, I still held onto that comforting voice in the darkest part of my mind, reassuring me that I'd be okay.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the next day. Or the day after that. But one day.
I shook my head; Harry's voice echoing loudly through my mind and rattling my skull.
He was still all over me.
"In other pop culture news today, Lucy Evans has finally made her return to the Big Apple after several months in isolation recovering from an alleged assault from her former boyfriend and music producer, John Danvers."
My stomach dropped at the unexpected comment from the radio host that suddenly seemed to fill the car with a fast-acting, lethal poison. My jaw unhinged and my eyes got wide, though they remained dry, in a state of shock at how nonchalantly the news had just been delivered to the masses. Her voice was monotone and dismissive, like she was listing off ingredient in a recipe instead of reporting about a terribly violent altercation. Frank immediately shut the radio off and the car plummeted into an uneasy silence. He cleared his throat loudly, thinking of something to say to change the subject, but I couldn't forget what I had just heard. It made my blood boil. I dug my nails deep into my palms in fury.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the next day. Or the day after that. But one day.
I immediately loosened my grip and relaxed my hands. I breathed a calming sigh and reminded myself: I'm doing good. You're okay. This won't last.
I had already spoken extensively to my management team about the next steps and they had released a statement on my behalf about the situation a week prior. It was shared countless times and everywhere I turned and looked, some media outlet was covering my story, even though I wasn't in control of this narrative at all. I felt entirely detached from it even though it was so painfully personal and deeply private. I hadn't spoken to anyone in my life about it personally, not knowing what to even say or where to begin. I had spent my entire life with a head overflowing with words to explain and convey what I was feeling in any given moment, and for the first time in my life, my mind was a silent echo chamber of nothingness.
And that made me want to die.
"It's fine," I replied back to Frank when he couldn't think of anything to say, tugging at the hood of my jacket to distract myself from the panic quickly rising in my chest. I was still shaking so badly and couldn't stop, so I tried to focus on the pattern of the water droplets running down the window instead of how my chest felt like it was caving in.
To my surprise, Harry had graciously allowed me to use his own personal driver, Frank, for the time being until the media madness died down; which if today was any indication, I wasn't sure would ever happen. I tried to deny Frank's services at first, knowing full well that Harry didn't owe me any favors at all; but he refused. We weren't speaking directly and all of our correspondence was through emails from his manager, but I knew he wouldn't allow me to say no anyway. Harry always cared about my safety more than his own even when we were fighting and even when I didn't deserve it. Though I still felt incredibly guilty about what happened and the silence between us was painfully deafening, I reluctantly gave in and agreed to Harry's request, secretly hoping that he would be waiting in the passenger seat for me when I climbed in the backseat.
Of course, he wasn't.
I couldn't pretend to not be disappointed.
"No, it's not fine," Frank argued angrily, clenching the steering wheel in his oversized hands. "It's not fine at all. They shouldn't treat you like that. They shouldn't be yelling at you in the streets. They shouldn't be bombarding you and hounding you the second you're outside. They shouldn't make you feel unsafe or scared or worried. Not after..." Frank's voice abruptly trailed off. He didn't want to put what had happened to me into words. I wasn't sure he could. No one seemed to be able to, myself included.
I smiled weakly at him, grateful for his adamant protection, but knowing there was nothing he could do to change anything. John's abuse and his subsequent arrest were unfortunately part of my story now and I couldn't run or hide from it anymore. I could only move forward or at the very least try to.
But God, I wished it didn't have to be so painful, so gut-wrenching, and so public.
"Thanks," I told Frank sincerely as I readjusted myself in the seat, wringing my hands together to avoid digging my nails into my palms.
Though my hands were healing slowly but surely and they didn't require to be covered in bandages anymore, the recovery process wasn't nearly as fast enough for my liking. I had gone to physical therapy and was getting some dexterity back, but I hadn't allowed myself to try and play piano yet, fearing the stiffness in my fingers would send me spiraling and make me never want to try ever again.
Besides, I hadn't had any urge to write anything. Though months had passed since "the incident" – as everyone was now referring to it as – everything still felt too raw and fresh to even try to begin to put what had happened into writing. I couldn't bring myself to reflect on it. I actually tried to avoid thinking about it altogether, although that was impossible. It consumed my every thought, both waking and dreaming. I kept telling myself I just needed more time: more time to process, more time to heal, more time to forgive, more time to forget.
But no matter how much time had passed, I still felt like it wasn't enough. I was paralyzed by it.
So I kept waiting.
Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the next day. Or the day after that. But one day.
"I'm glad Harry wasn't here to see that," Frank continued sharply, clicking his tongue in utter disgust as I snapped my head up to look at him once more. "He wouldn't allow that. He would have given all of those low lives a proper piece of his mind. He would never let anyone speak to someone he loves like that."
My cheeks flushed as I nodded back, stunned to silence in the backseat. My heart fluttered at the mention of Harry's name again. I wondered where he was, not having a clue where he fled to after our volatile argument in the woods.
"Harry, I..."
"I don't...I can't hear whatever you're going to say right now," Harry had told me, his words coming out in harsh gasps of air. "I just...I have to get out of here. I...I can't. I just...I can't."
He turned his back to me and I instinctively reached out for him, but I was frozen. My arm hovered in the air between us, my fingertips outstretched, desperately and silently begging him to come back to me.
But he kept walking.
He never glanced back, not even for a moment.
When I returned to my parents' house a few hours later, both of his cars were gone from the driveway.
That was the last I had seen or heard from him personally in two weeks.
"It's the one to the left up here, right?" Frank asked me abruptly, slowing down the car as we pulled onto my street.
Thankfully, the location of my apartment was still very much a well kept secret, so I was greatly looking forward to having more privacy once again away from the prying eyes of the media. I longed for some proper peace and quiet, even though I still knew that everywhere I went was likely to become a circus. A wave of nervous anticipation washed over me as I perked up, lifting my head and gazing out the window at the familiar scenery as we drove onward.
All the air escaped my lungs in one, quick exhale as my eyes landed on a shrouded figure waiting at the bus stop on the sidewalk. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was sporting a bright pink beanie on top of his messy curls. Even though it was cloudy and raining, he still wore oversized, white-rimmed sunglasses, almost like he didn't want his full face to be seen. But I would have recognized him anywhere.
I immediately pressed my hand against the window, instinctively reaching out towards him as my fingerprints left streaks on the fogged up glass. I almost yelled for Frank to pull over, ready to fling the door wide open even if the car was still moving anyway and jump out into the street. But I stopped, my voice trapped in my throat as I watched the man slowly remove his shades, revealing an unfamiliar face.
He was a stranger.
I was devastated.
"Lucy?" Frank asked me again as I tore my glance away from the street, overwhelmed with embarrassment. "This one is yours, right?"
"Uh, yes," I answered softly, still in a slight daze, feeling my heart crack inside my rib cage. "It's that one with the mauve front."
Frank stopped the car and pulled over onto the sidewalk as I began gathering my purse off my lap with my shaky hands. I reached for the door, but Frank suddenly stopped me from the front.
"Wait," he instructed seriously before unbuckling himself. He climbed out of his seat and scanned the street up and down for a moment, not the least bit bothered by the incessant rain, his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits as his gaze swept the area carefully. After a beat, he nodded curtly and opened my door for me, covering my head with an umbrella.
"All safe and clear," he noted satisfactorily as he gently offered me his hand.
"Thank you," I said again with an appreciative smile as I hopped out onto the rain soaked concrete. "For everything."
"Don't mention it," Frank assured me, giving my hand a reassuring, tight squeeze. "Anything for you. You're Harry's family. He's my family. So we're family."
My grin widened as my eyes once again welled with burning tears. Frank held up a finger and shook it sternly, shaking his head in unison. "No crying," he ordered lightly, though his own gaze was misting over. "No more tears."
I laughed softly and brushed them away hastily with the back of my sleeve. I nodded back to him and told him simply, "I'll see you soon."
"Be safe," Frank reminded me before he opened the door to the front seat as I took the umbrella from his large hands. "Please. For me. For Harry. For all of us."
"I will." I knew I was just saying what he wanted – and likely needed – to hear. I'd much rather try and be positive than tell him I couldn't make such lofty promises. "I will."
Frank smiled back at me before driving off again slowly, keeping an eye on me as I unlocked my apartment door and walked up the stairs. Each step felt like an impossibly steep mountain as I dragged myself up the winding staircase, stopping in front of my apartment door to catch my breath. I reached for my keys in my pocket, still struggling to breathe, when suddenly, my mind was sent reeling.