HER

CHAPTER 11 Familiar faces (MARINA)

He looked just like him.

Doing a double take I froze as his grip tightened. Squeezing right down to the bone. I couldn't stop staring at those cold eyes. They bore into my flesh, cutting away at me. Until I was nothing but a bloodied pulp.

It couldn't be him. Surely not? He was dead.

"I shot you..." I whispered. Rather strained but thankfully not clear enough for him to hear over the roar of the crowd.

My eyes darted from face to face, searching frantically for Lana. Hoping and praying that she'd seen me. That she'd seen him.

What if she'd gone.

Why would she even wait?

I wasn't her responsibility. I wasn't anybodies but my own. Again my thoughts had taken over my reality.

The air around me felt thick and still. Like I was underwater. Moving slowly. Completely solid.

A flash of auburn hair caught my attention. I saw her pacing towards us. When she was near enough I grabbed her hand. Craving her touch. Constantly it seemed.

I felt the hard ridge of keys.

Grimacing, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I took her hand, and forced the keys into his side, twisting for good measure.

After that it was all a blur.

When I hit the ground I guessed he had reacted as anyone would and had pushed me. Gritting my teeth my hands scraped against the concrete. The coolness seeped into my fingers making them heavy and sore. The cuts burned on my legs as I got up and walked towards the car, pulling at Lana to follow.

I didn't feel anything.

There was just this... numbness.

It was something I had felt throughout my marriage. It was as though I wasn't fully present. I was aware of what was happening but it was like I wasn't in my own body. Wasn't truly living.

But it was something that I was used to. Something familiar that I welcomed with open arms.

After driving along the desolate road Lana asked me why I didn't cry. This offended me so deeply, not only because I didn't know but because I knew she wouldn't understand. I seemed to have no trouble doing it around her. I tried to blame it on the amount of people. After all it is embarrassing crying in front of strangers. I, of all people should know.

But of course there was the real reason.

Pausing momentarily, I decided to tell her the truth.

His dehydration plan. It was to try and make me so sick I wouldn't even dare think to cry. But of course old habits die hard. He attempted it three times before it really worked. Before it really effected me. I couldn't believe he had actually succeeded. Saying that he broke me was an understatement. As if I was some common houseplant he had forgotten to water.

This was sadistic. Impulsive. Sociopathic even.

This was one of the worst ways he abused me. How I despised that word. Abused. It repulsed me. It suddenly made my situation real.

I grew breathless and hesitant with my story, as she sat like a girl made of wax, who had ventured to close to fire.

I never did gain back the weight. Not fully. People at parties told me how well I looked. Floods of people coming and going. Forcing me to compare myself to how healthy and alive they looked yet they would repeatably tell me the same spiel. Sheep's bleating, one after the other. That they would die for a figure like mine. Nodding I would murmer to myself, well I nearly did.

I didn't find much joy in food. Not after that. That's why Lana surprised me with her sweet tooth. It reminded me of before. Of my childhood. Sweets and fizzy drinks that I wish I could stomach, but I couldn't bare to look at them. It was too painful. I really did try to get my curves back. Once smooth lines now painful edges. It sickened me.

My biggest worry was that I was becoming him. Acting out so viscously. Living with someone like that for so long, that must have some affect on you?

I wasn't emotionless. I knew that much but in a sense I was. I felt no remorse for my actions. They could have kids, families, people who really cared. Yet I didn't. The only person I cared about was Lana.

My head pounded, I didn't understand it. Why did I feel so much for this woman? I had only known her for such a short time. My mother always said I was too trusting. Gullible was the word. She said that when I moved to America. And as usual, she was right.

Whenever Lana looked at me all those worries washed away. Like waves crashing over sand on a beach. A clean slate.

My heart couldn't handle rejection but my body always surprised me. It could take multiple beatings and starving's yet couldn't cope with her eyes on my skin. That uncomfortable heat. Her face made of wax. Smooth and pale. Unchanging. I had yet to see her blush like I did.

My face always flushed. Crimson crept down my neck and chest. I could practically feel my heartbeat in my cheek.

Lana drove very warily, checking her mirrors every couple minutes. Lips pressed firmly together in a rather pensive way.

I could gaze at her for hours and still want more. The more I studied her the more I realised the less I knew about her. My head thumped against the window as I unclenched my fists.

The burning in my knees grew to a simmer. Sleep seemed like the perfect solution.

Now that I was away from those men I came to the realisation that he didn't look anything like him.

Lana was right, I was acting manic. This unsettled me because it meant that he was right. I was crazy. Mentally unhinged. Loosing my marbles. Nuts.

She slipped her hand into mine and I knew it couldn't be true. Why would she still be with me?

Maybe I was crazy, maybe I wasn't.

Maybe life is...