The Strip

Part 19

Rebecca POV;

You stare at her lips, unable to comprehend what she's saying. It's words that you didn't even think she knew, let alone thought about herself.

Your heart stutters to a stop as the same lips that speak soft wonders to you - the same lips that map your body with care - spew venom directed at their owner.

Your throat is thick with emotion, but you force a crackling "Freen,"past your lips, pleading with her to focus, but there's a vacant look in her eyes. The blue is so dull that it almost looks grey. "Baby," your voice cracks again, and she flinches, grabbing her arms tight enough to leave crescent moons behind.

Her walls are up and she's sealed herself off.

She calls herself a stupid whore with so much vitriol that you understand where she learned these phrases; who she learned these phrases from; how she learned to internalize them after being inundated with the same words over and over and over.

She thinks she's worthless. The thought suffocates you.

Freen is lost. She's lost who she is. She's lost inside her own mind, the small boxes she's built over the years to house these horrid words ripping open all at once and flooding her with the pain she's escaped once before, but she's lost her footing and stumbled right back in.

You want to reach for her. You want to tell her how much you love her, that what she thinks isn't true, but your heart is aching because the blue eyes glaring at you are hollow and empty, the shade of someone else. They're the colour of a woman who abandoned her and a boy who saw an opportunity. They're void of the sparkling mischief, the warm embrace, the seductive swagger that make up Freen.

It physically hurts you to leave her, but you know that you need to think, call in backup, call in reinforcements to get to the woman you love. You're dialing Sophia's number before you even make it to your motorcycle. "Freen needs you," is all you say.

"Are you okay?" Sophia asks in response. When you don't reply, Sophia sighs. "On it. Amelia's waiting for you."

***

Your sister sits quietly by your side, smoke billowing from her cigarette that she only ever lights when she's stressed out. "Evelyn said she's going to make her a care package. Ava's helping her."

Your laugh is sad. You are sad. "I shouldn't have invited Abby. I shouldn't have held that fucking conference. I shouldn't have insisted." Your hands are tangling in your hair and pulling at your scalp.

Amelia takes stock of your response and hums in response.

"What?" You glance at your sister, brow furrowed.

"Freen's in pain," she shrugs, flicking the cigarette a little too hard to just be trying to ash it. "It's not your fault that Freen's trapped in her pain."

"I pushed her."

"You didn't. Freen is one of the toughest women I know. She's just outnumbered by her ghosts and I don't know what - how to - she needs help to even the fight. I want to help her even the fight."

You're baffled, but your tears fall nonetheless when you realize how much your sister has come to love your girlfriend. How your dilapidated family has all come to the defence of her.

***

Sophia looks as exhausted as you feel the next morning, and you share a lingering hug in support and gratitude of one another. Evelyn swings by before she heads over to Freen's apartment and she checks you over silently, her eyes scanning to see if you've eaten, if you've bathed, if you're taking care of yourself all without saying a single word.