Now We're Even (#Wattys2017)

iv) return

James had just finished making the coffee when he heard a key turning in the lock. Larissa pushed the door in and stepped inside, soaking wet and laden with shopping bags.

"Jesus, Lara, what happened?"

"What does it look like?" she said, heaving the bags onto the kitchen bench. "I forgot my umbrella." James watched as she started unpacking, putting various groceries into the cupboard above the sink.

"You want a coffee?" he asked.

"I'd kill for one." She shot him a questioning glance as she opened the fridge. "By the way, aren't you meant to be at uni right now?"

"Yeah, well... yeah."

"So? What happened?"

James shifted his weight and dug his hands into his pockets. "I don't know... I just... didn't feel like it today."

Larissa sighed deeply. "James, we've talked about this before. If you ever wanna get out of here, or have enough money to at least have a choice, you have to finish medical school."

James went pale as his mind went through every option he had. If she was going to fight with him, he was going to need an escape route, and fast. His hand reached down to his stomach, traced the raised scar through his shirt. He tried to stall.

"I can find another place if you want. I've already apologized for moving in with no notice, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. But I get it, if I've outstayed my welcome I can-"

"James." She stood in front of him now, hands on his shoulders, groceries forgotten. "You know it's not about that. You can stay here as long as you like. But haven't you ever thought you'd like do something apart from staying here all day, reading your novels and trying as hard as you can to avoid studying? I know, I know, it's only been a year. James, look at me." She grabbed his chin and lifted his face so he had no choice but to meet her eyes. "It's time to move on."

He squirmed uncomfortably under the weight of her dark gaze. "Alright," he said.

"Alright," she repeated, and turned to put a packet of cereal next to the toaster.

James took a deep breath as the last moments of his panic began to recede. He forced himself to regain control, repeated a few words to himself. The past is in the past. Not every fight turns violent. You can trust Larissa.

Not every fight turns out like that.

"You still want that coffee?" James forced out.

Larissa gave an amused huff and smiled. "Sure thing."

James busied himself with pouring it out into two mugs as Larissa went to find a towel. She returned a few minutes later, her hair still drenched, but wearing new clothes. "You know, I heard from Jason today. He says that you haven't showed up to work in two days."

James froze. "Uh, yeah. I'm sorry about that."

Larissa sighed. "Have you been taking your medication?"

The medication in question was meant for James' anxiety, but he barely ever took it. Right now, it was buried at the bottom of his cupboard, probably accumulating dust. He didn't want them. They made him sluggish, slow. He needed to be ready to run at any moment.

"Yeah," James lied unconvincingly. Larissa raised one eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Need help with that?" he asked, pointing at the shopping backs on the kitchen bench. Larissa nodded, and the two of them started unpacking them. It was a little ritual, a routine. This goes here; that goes there. There's a few things that you can put in the back of the cupboard. Don't bother unpacking that bag; it's just some personal stuff.

They finished unpacking the bags, tossing the grey plastic into an empty drawer. They were quiet as Larissa sipped at her coffee, then gave a slight nod and headed out of the kitchen. James set his own mug down, then turned towards the window above the sink. Rain streamed down, pouring over the entire city of Victoria. It was barely the beginnings of autumn, but it seemed like everything was starting to break.

James flopped down onto the living room's couch, wincing slightly as his back slammed against the cushions. Although it had been just over a year, the dark bruising on his back hadn't entirely vanished. He reached up, his fingers brushing over the raised scar buried under thick layers of red hair. Despite his efforts to hide it, he knew that it would always be there, a slight bump on his forehead, a reminder.

His ankle hadn't been broken in the fall, only twisted. His arms, although numb at the time, weren't damaged, and he had regained feeling in them soon after the fight. The smattering of bruises that had coloured his face were all gone, although some had taken longer than others to heal.

Then there was the stab wound.

James' fingers traced over his shirt. The thin cotton barely covered anything, and he could feel the scar underneath. He took a deep breath, and, ever so slowly, lifted up his shirt.

The scar was a long, jagged slash. It didn't seem deep, but James knew the truth- the knife had almost poked all the way through his back. He was lucky that the blade had snapped off inside him- helping stop the bleeding, if only for a moment. His hand traced along the bumps and the indents of where he had been slashed, and left to die.

Of course, the scar wasn't entirely visible anymore. It was covered by a tattoo.

The tattoo of a mouth, grinning, full of jagged teeth. It hadn't been James' idea. He would have preferred to restore the skin back to its original appearance, but Larissa had managed to convince him. It's symbolic. Eat the thing that hurt you, see? You're not a victim anymore.

But James knew, as he had ever since that horrible night, that he was a victim. That he would never be able to run away. That he was forever bound by what had happened to him.

The doorbell rang. James forced himself up from the couch, making sure his shirt was pulled over the tattoo before walking over to the front door.

The doorbell rang again. James pulled the door open.

A single glance was all it took to bring James into a downward spiral.

He slammed the door shut.