Bruised (Completed)

Chapter 33

It feels as if everything is spiralling out of control, slowly slipping from the grip I once had on it. The mind tries to stay rational, but the memories of my father render its goal futile and make me question whether Alistaire truly loves me or simply stays because she is afraid of what I can do if she tries to leave. Even when our bodies react to each other and she whispers assuring words, it is not clear whether they are rehearsed or hold actual meaning.

Every minute I question when I will finally lose the battle, succumbing to the old habits I recently picked up again, and become my father's son. Or when he finds us here in spite of how cryptic I was the last time we saw one another. He already found me once, so who is to say he shall not succeed a second time?

Ali grows more distant, evades my touch at every twist and turn. She tries to at least, but the beast always forces itself upon her in the end. Our hands do not hold each other anymore, photos are strictly for professional use only, no black and malachite on the beach, even the americanos start to taste bitter. All because I crossed the line, the boundary that has been overstepped in a drunken stupor so many times, too far the last time I lost myself in the unhealthy addiction we have developed, but deny we have. That was the last time I felt her entire body, her skin heated by my touch.

We do not talk anymore like we used to do, mostly due to her staying over at the Park's. Especially after I let the anger get the best of me in one of our heated arguments, which have become an almost daily occurrence. Sometimes they are about pointless things and quick to blow over, but most of the time it is about our behaviour.

Well, mine.

Of course, I am greatly annoyed by hers too, especially because she is around the Mandarin again seeking solace, but it feels like injustice whenever I blame her of walking away, only to return when it supposedly suits her.

No, it is unjust to accuse her because I told her to walk away whenever things would become too much to handle. Turn out like they have.

But when she is home and we are normal for as far as that is possible to achieve these days, I am concerned about her health. It may sound cold-hearted or maybe still empathic, but I am less troubled by the bruises than I am by what gradually really seems to sap the life out of her. The energy that once surrounded her slowly dims and causes her to hold on to things in order not to fall, coffee is replaced by tea, aromas change with the atmosphere. When I asked what is going on, she merely told me not to worry, that everything was alright.

But it is obviously not, a mere facade to keep up appearances.

Seohyeon even called me one time, telling me she could hear Ali sobbing in the bathtub and threatened to kill me if I had anything to do with it, which I had in a certain sense, though it could also have been due to the wounds I inflicted on her, the bruises I painted onto her skin with uncontrolled fists.

Other than that, she does seem truly fine, but I have a vague sense of what she is hiding.

Surely you can't... no, I told you I can't do it.

It must just be a fever thanks to the lingering winter weather, the chill having crept into her bones. That is what I tell myself, at least. All because I am too weak to face the truth.

Coward that I am, I take to the bottle in the hopes of drowning the terrifying thoughts which keep repeating themselves. Sometimes with Namjoon, having a night of spraying graffiti and running from the cops like we did in the days of old, and at other times without him, when my feet find their way to the beach, the waves, cheap soju, and the tiny box I carry with me at all times in case the right moment presents itself my only companions.

Tonight is one of those nights in which everything went wrong again. We fight over her latest escape to the Park's, I hit her when she defies me after I accuse her low key of the lie Jimin holds her in his arms at night despite knowing she would never do that, slam the door shut too loudly as I storm out of the apartment and onto the dimly lit streets of the beach district. The nearest convenience store has the temporarily amnesia-inducing liquor that I desperately need and before I know it I find myself in the usual spot. Nothing but silence to allow thinking about the sins committed against the girl who sticks to a man who cannot keep his word.