Ten & Levan

26. Twenty Six

LEVAN

I watch my hands shake.

I've always tried to stop them, to calm them. But not today. For once, I let them. I let them shake, and tremble, and break, for all they want. I let it sink in, I let it sink me with itself. A shipwreck, that's what it is. I would give my life to run away. So I close my eyes, and suck all the air around me in, in, in until I'm running; running through the trees, sifting through the breeze, until the now is left behind me.

Levan isn't one who stops, at least he wasn't. He would run for dad to catch him, he'd hide for mom to find. He'd fall and scratch his knees on the rough ground. Then mom would make him soup and dad would tell him stories of warriors, who lived without limbs but never did they flinch. So that's what Levan did, he'd pretend to be brave and not wince when dad would rub Tylenol on his elbows and knees.

It did burn though, he just never showed. Because then, that's all Levan would know.

I open my eyes to the creaking sound of the floor. Levan the brave warrior, who could possible live without limbs has vanished into thin air, he's long gone. What's left is me; immobile and buried underground, deep. No more running, no more being found. Because all that is gone too.

"I asked you to change," says Ten, I look at the door to find her leaning against jamb. She sighs before she walks to me, her steps falter. But I've done this to her, this house has done this to her, we've sucked even the skip in her step away. We are monsters, nobody taught us to behave.

But I don't know what to say. I never do. But especially right now, especially to her. I have no words. I only need her to leave this house so she can be Ten again. So fly away Ten, to wherever you came from. I bet that place is better than this house in at least a million different ways.

"Come," she says, grabbing one of my unstable hands. She smiles at me slightly and tilts her head in the direction of the bathroom. I feel her warmth on my palm. My breath hitches as I wrap my fingers around her hand. I surprise myself. I surprise myself all the time when I'm with her.

I let her drive me to the bathroom. I'd rather she drive me to the sun so we could never come back. I'd rather she either leave me here or fly me away. But she's doing neither, it's as if she's silently telling me that she's here to stay.

She makes me sit down on the edge of the bathtub and wets a towel under the tap. I try to find the silence that always surrounds me, but it's nowhere. My throat feels dry, it feels like I've lost an old friend. I feel naked. I may even miss its noise, the noise that always ate me up and drank my soul. But I don't want it to return, even though I'm its home.

Ten grabs my face, her warm fingertips dance across my cheekbone down to my nape. She tilts my head up, her eyes scan my face for a few moments before she starts to strobe the wet towel around my left eye. It stings, so I let myself wince; there's not a bit of the brave warrior left in me anyway.

I let my eyes burn, I let my hands shake, I let my feet go numb. I let her swipe at my wounds one by one. I wish she'd run that towel all over my body and heal every inch of me. Or better yet, if that's what healing is about, I wish she's soak me in warm water and dissolve me.

"You need to call the police, Levan..." she says, her voice fading around my non-existent armor, a wall guarding a lonely town. But it's exactly what I thought she'd say if she ever found out. Hell, it's exactly what I thought anyone would say if they ever found out.

"I can't," I tell her.

"Why not?" she asks, her brows furrowing, and her shoulder sagging as she steps back, disappointed, angered even.