Show Me

12.

Trigger warning: a single mention of self-harm

The way what she said was laced with resignation, as though she was already bracing herself for the worst, managed to usurp the fog in his brain, the ache in his chest, and he saw her.

A woman who was unabashedly brave, who wasn't afraid to trudge through shit, if need be. A fighter, in all the best ways.

But as he looked in her eyes, they reflected back great loss. Abandonment. And with both of those, a quiet acceptance, too. Stefani, he realized, was willing to sacrifice happiness so that he could maintain control of the shit he should've already had control over.

The shame stabbed at him and he took her face his hands, cradling it. As much as they did not need physical words, he knew he needed to say them, as much as she deserved to hear them.

They weren't loud or cloying but they were the truth, and he had to own them.

"When I was drinking," Bradley created a small distance between them, resting his hands on his knees, "I was in this narrow tunnel that I couldn't see my way out of and frankly, I didn't want to. There was a darkness in me. A voice that told me I was stupid and incapable, a fuck-up." Stealing a glance at her, she had her hands folded in her lap, her face drawn.

"Rehab worked for awhile. Then my father died and I was constantly looking for something to alleviate the ache. Anything. One-night stands, sometimes drugs, but I was drowning in booze, pretty much all day, every day. And Irina fanned that flame, you know? Not blaming my choices on her but I think she liked the mess, if that makes any sense. She thrived on it until the day came where she had to put someone else above herself and you know the rest. Point is, Stefani, part of me will always live in a little darkness, no matter how hard I try. Even without the alcohol. And I've managed to keep it at bay because of Lea. She's my whole life." Clearing his throat, he raised his head so that they were eye level. "And now, because of you. You bring out every single thing that's good about me."

Gulping, he lost what he wanted to say, the courage fluttering away on silent wings but still, she managed to catch it, speaking delicately.

"I don't see darkness, B. I see a man who's overcome shit and made it through the other side. A beautiful father, a beautiful man. For what it's worth, though," she closed her eyes briefly, "it lives in me, too. And I tried to shine a light on it in so many of the same ways that you did."

Pushing up her sleeves, she turned the underside of both arms toward him, revealing faint white lines, faded with time.

"I thought I could cut out the pain," she did not waver, did not shy away from making sure he saw. "Thought if I bled, some of it would bleed away, that feeling."

"Stefani. I--," his throat was a tight band, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm better now. Stronger. But those will always be there as a reminder that I have to live with it, Bradley. Trauma...it doesn't just go away, no matter how much we chase it away and what we chase it away with." Though dry and calm, her eyes were warm. "Nothing you tell me, nothing that you do, can change how I feel."

"That's exactly it, Stef. You accept me for who I am. You see my past, just like you see me in the present and you never make me feel like I'm on the verge of screwing up everything."

"I feel the same way. Today, though, that was only a small piece of what could possibly happen, what does happen. For the most part, I can avoid them, you know, but then there are times like this afternoon." She bore down hard on her lower lip, nearly to the point of drawing blood. "I should've had Peter follow us, at the very least. It was reckless and I put you all at risk, Lea included."