Heal the Heart

46.

Harsh thuds and screams jolted me awake. Strong vibrations coursed through my entire body, my swimming head popped into focus, and my flight senses kicked in. More shaking. I screamed Earthquake! and rolled over, only to fall off the bed and crash land onto the cold floor.

The shaking, thankfully, stopped and the pain, not thankfully, set in. I clutched the sides of my head and whined. The screams vanished and left behind a tingling in my ears. A tingling that spelt out Wake the fuck up! WAKE UP!

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" And the screaming returned.

A blur whizzed around in front of me, opening and slamming doors. Heavy, angry steps and huffs punctuated each action.

"You have no shame, no respect, no value of time. There's nothing left in you."

I squinted, forcing my half-lidded self to come into focus. Syama was in front of the dresser, his back to me, doing something with his hair. His button-down was wrinkled. Blunt throbbing spread through my temples, went around the back of my skull and settled well enough into my neck. I held the edges of the bed and pulled myself up, reminding each limb of mine to function as it should.

Syama peeked over his shoulder, shooting me a dangerously disgusted look that I'd never seen on his face before. He shook his head and left the room, going straight for the main door. Stuffing his feet into his sneakers, he glared at the clock, then fixed his glare at me. "You're late, and clearly you have no care about it. So obviously you won't care now that even I'm late for work. Happy? Can't you at least have some value for others' time if not yours?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but a bitter, burnt taste sat heavy on my tongue; sharp thorns pricked my throat as I tried to swallow it.

Syama yanked open the door, rattling the frame, and just before he was about to storm right out, he turned back. "I already have one death on my conscience." His seething gaze was directed right to my soul as he spoke the next sentence. "Don't add another one to it."

Then he was gone, slamming the door for good measure. The echo of that bam haunted my ears as I stood disoriented and confused against the jamb of my bedroom.

I trudged to my bed and sat down at the edge of the mattress. Everything was so scattered. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. And check if all was in functioning order.

Pushing away the hammering situated within my skull, I took account of all my body parts. No injuries, no unintended pains, and no weird marks.

Now, for the hard part.

Remembering.

Last night, after I had burst into my apartment, my face aflame with Beck's touch, I went straight for my liquor cabinet. Only to find cobwebs and tumbleweeds. My head was swimming with Beck and his reasons for coming to LA. Not just LA, to me. He was there where I worked, where I lived, tainting all what I called mine with his presence. He had said he still loved me.

He didn't have the right. Not after so long. I had moved on, and finally finally stabilised. My health, my mind, my soul, we were all in a good place... Decent enough place. Plus, Beck only had the power to affect me if I gave it to him.

Which was where the problem really lay, wasn't it?

He did affect me. More than I cared to admit. His mere stare made my body light, and his touch brought forth a warmth from deep within to banish the coldness that I had made my home. That was what scared me the most. For all my anger and hate and loathing, I still craved Beck like my next breath. Even after all these years, it didn't wane no matter how hard I tried. And believe me, I tried.