Temptation

85 - Hero

Rehab is exactly how I remembered it. The walls are beige, the bedding is beige and the only pop of colour I see during the day is the colour of  Dr. Maverick's t-shirts. My therapist, Dr. Maverick is letting me go home tomorrow. I don't know whether to go live with Mara and DJ or go back to my home in London, where I will be reminded of Madden.

These last three months, I've tried reach out to her via email, phone calls, and even writing handwritten letters but I only got a handwritten letter back once, and that was the only time I heard from her.

Dear Hero,

I'm glad to hear that you are doing well and getting yourself back to where you were when we first met. These last few weeks that I've lived without you have been painful. I love you unconditionally, but you refused to come to be with me and I don't know if I could ever trust you again. I want you to know, I sit here, writing this letter to you with a lump in my throat, holding back the tears. I'd do anything to be in your arms again but I'm not sure if I should.

If we ever meet again, I truly hope that we could be what we once were but for now, I hold onto my pain and I've suffered every day and night, trying to erase our memories we shared. When you get out of rehab, I ask that you call me and maybe by then, I will be willing to meet with you again.

Hero, I never stopped loving you and I still love you. I wish you all the best in rehab.

For always,

Madden

The letter she wrote me broke me down. It was after reading that letter, that I truly started working towards being healthy and this time, I quit alcohol and drugs.

* * *

Mara picks me up from rehab and asks me where she should be driving me. I make the decision, to fly home to London so that if Madden gives me the chance to see her, then I will be able to see her as soon as I get home. As I wait for my jet at the airport in the private V.I.P. section, I try giving Madden a call; not thinking that she will answer me.

To my surprise, she answers but she says Hello as if she's not sure who is calling. "Madden, it's me." She pauses for a while so I fill the silence, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called." "No, I'm glad you did. How is rehab?" She tries to keep the conversation casual, but I need to get straight to the point because my flight is about to board. "I'm on my way home—to our home. Meet me there at 5PM?" I know she said to call her and that she may want to meet with me, but I prepared myself before calling her for a no so when she says tells me that she will be there, I'm really shocked and excited to see her. She ends the call with a simple goodbye and my heart is fluttering inside my chest. I feel alive again; I feel like I can be the man I was with her when we first met.

During the flight, I catch myself listening to The Fray; their songs relate to my life in so many ways and calm me when I feel anxious. In rehab, Dr. Maverick diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder because of the things I had witnessed as a child. All the trauma I had in my youth that I pushed deep down inside, always seemed to come back in all my relationships and with Madden, it had an atomic bomb effect.

When we land, I'm met at the airport by Adam who drives me to my home and comes in with me, when I'm in the house. I used to be able to be alone without any concern of relapsing, but I've set measures in place to make sure that doesn't happen; hence Adam staying at the house with me. The house is clean, the maid must be by here at all times and Bean is healthy so I can guess she's been coming by daily.

I go to my room where Madden's stuff was once, is now completely empty. I remind myself that I caused this whole situation in the first place. On her pillow, I find the letter I wrote her when I left. I read through it and realize how fucking stupid I was being when I wrote this, but my mentality was distressed by trauma and I need to try to explain this to her when I see her. I take the pages down with me when the doorbell rings.

I look through the front window and see Madden standing at the door, waiting to be let in. I crumple up the pages in my hand and stuff them into my pocket then I open the door. It's only been three months, but she looks as beautiful as I remember her. The words escape my mouth without any thought, "I missed you." Without any hesitation, she replies with, "I missed you too." There is so much I want to say to her and so much I want to do to her, but I need to control my sexual desires and keep on topic.

"Come in," I suggest, and she follows my hand movements into the house. I love this woman and I am going to do everything I can to get her back.