In the Arms of Rain (Ville Valo)

11 - Shatter Me With Hope

I had been living in London for six months and was totally in love with my new life. I was still broke, but rather than slaving and sweating over a coffee machine, I was performing every night in a show I loved, travelling around the country, taking singing and dancing lessons and living in the centre of a cosmopolitan capital. I had friends, dates, and even the cold, hard-faced director had warmed up to me.

But one night in the mild, balmy summer, everything changed. The show had finished, I had thrown a jacket on over my velvet shorts and corset and headed to the nearest bar with some of the other members of the cast. They took their seats and I went to the bar to get a round of drinks.

I had ordered and was waiting when I felt the light brush of a hand across my ass. I took a step out of the way, but figured it was accidental since it wasn't exactly forceful. But then a slurred whisper accompanied it.

'Hey, aren't you a bit cold in those shorts?'

I looked up, glaring, ready to tell the perpetrator where to go, but when I saw his face, the words dissolved into nothing in my mouth. He wasn't even looking at me, just leaning, hunched over on the bar, a glass of red wine loosely in his hand.

All I could do was stare. I stared at him for a slow-motion minute, then looked away, a sudden stab of pain ricocheting throughout my body. He looked so...different. But I didn't feel sorry for him. I felt angry.

Unable to look at him again, I said quietly through gritted teeth, 'well, now it all makes sense.'

I had already started to walk away, but I heard him mumble some nonsense words before eventually arriving at, 'Nina...Nina?'

I didn't reply, however much I wanted an explanation, I felt sure I wasn't going to get one from him tonight, given his intoxicated state. That being the case, I didn't want him anywhere near me.

'Nina, what...what are you doing here?' he asked, following me. I couldn't go back to my table with him behind me, so I turned and headed back to the bar. I gave him an icy look. 'What am I doing here? That's where you want to start?'

His eyes were glazed over, his skin dull, hair tangled and clothes dirty and smelling of stale alcohol. He bared little resemblance to the man I had almost fallen in love with. He was repulsive. But a tiny part of me still wanted to hear him out. After all, my anger towards him was what had driven me here, to the life I really wanted.

He was staring at me, blankly, as though he had already forgotten who I was and what he'd asked me. But after a minute of me staring angrily back at him, he stuttered out, barely comprehensible, 'I'm so sorry, Nina.'

I sighed, shaking my head. There was no point in vocalising what was going through my mind, that sorry wasn't good enough, sorry meant nothing, coming from a drunk. I didn't even know who this man was.

It was then that one of my friends came over to me, put his arm over my shoulders and asked, 'everything okay, sweetie?'

I nodded and turned away from Ville. 'Yeah, everything's fine. Could you help me carry these?' I handed half the drinks that had appeared for us on the bar to my friend, and I got the rest, returning to our table, leaving Ville standing alone, looking thoroughly pathetic.

I tried to join in with the conversation but I couldn't concentrate. Despite myself, I was distracted by that lonesome figure, drinking by himself. Despite myself, I felt guilty - I knew it was him who should feel bad, but did I really want to punish him? Something must have gone terribly wrong in his life for him to be alone at a bar in London, away from his home, away from his friends and family, and looking and acting like such a disgrace.

My friends were getting ready to leave, and for a moment I thought about staying with him a while. But I quickly made up my mind that I couldn't go back there. I had already moved on. So I got up with the others, picked up my purse and walked with them to the door.

A hand on my arm stopped me. I sighed and looked over my shoulder to see Ville, his eyes red and raw, staring at me. He didn't say anything. I sighed again.

'I'll catch you guys up.' I said as my friends looked questioningly at me. They all shrugged and walked out, one of them making a signal that I should text him.

I spun on my heel to look at Ville. 'What?' I asked, confrontationally.

'I just...' he said quietly, 'I just want to let you know how sorry I am.'

I shrugged, nodded my head and said, unforgiving, 'okay. Got it.'

But he still didn't let me leave. He appeared to have sobered up a little and could look me in the eyes, but I found it hard to hold his gaze. I didn't want to forgive him. I wanted to go back and for him to have never screwed things up in the first place.

'I understand if you don't want to talk to me,' he sighed, 'but just let me explain myself. If you still want me to leave you alone, I swear I will never see you again.'

I glared at him. 'Fine. But this had better be good. I don't believe in second chances.'

'I know it must have really hurt you. I know I broke my promise to you,' Ville said, trying to grab my hands, 'but it wasn't intentional. I just got...overwhelmed.'

I rolled my eyes, snatched my hands away from him and turned back on my heels. 'That's the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard. You know what, Ville?' I snapped. 'I tried. You didn't. That says it all. You are not the person I thought you were. So now you can at least keep that promise to never see me again.'

I shoved through the people crowding into the bar and forced the door open, practically running down the street until I turned the corner. I leaned against the wall and started to cry.