Red

46

"Fucking hell, Tris! What is wrong with you? What do you think you're doing?" Van yells. He brushes some of the sand from his face and eyes while still keeping a tight grip on my arm.

"Nothing. I want to go with Sam," I say, tears brimming my eyes. He was scaring me again. His voice, his touch, the look in his eyes, all made my body shake in fear. I try to push Van's hand off me, but he just grabs my other hand instead, giving him what he wanted. Control.

"You're acting like a complete child, that's what you're doing," he tells me, looking straight into my eyes with nothing but anger. I couldn't see any of that 'love' that he claims to have for me. It was getting harder and harder to believe he actually meant what he said.

"No, I'm not. Let me go, Van. Let me go!" My voice trembles as I speak, and I can tell Van knows I'm nervous. It seems like that's his last concern at the moment, though.

"Why can't you see that I'm protecting you?" Van asks, each word he spoke sounded more agitated than the last. His impatience with me was growing thinner and thinner.

"Y-you're not trying to protect me," I say. My stomach flips, and I know it would be better to just agree with Van. But I couldn't do that. I wanted to be strong like Van. I wanted to be fearless and brave. If I couldn't stand up to one person, how would I ever achieve that?

"What am I doing them? You think this is fun for me, dealing with you like this?" He says with a scoff.

"No ones asking you to do this, Van," I say, my voice suddenly sour. I blink away any tears that wanted to fall from my eyes.

Strong. I need to be strong.

I began to wonder what Sam and Bondy were talking about right now. I'm sure Van didn't tell Bondy about the way he treated me, and if he did, there's no way he'd tell Sam. How was I going to explain my tears when Van and I walk back to them? Would Sam even still want to go to the waterfall knowing how problematic I am?

"Believe me, baby, I wouldn't if I didn't care for you in the way that I do," he says.

It made sense. Someone would have to really care to put up with me acting like this, but that's not what I was thinking about. I couldn't process things straight, not with Van so angry, not when his cold, hard eyes were glaring right into my teary, frightened ones, not when his lips were drawn thin, like he was trying not to completely lose his mind. Those things masked any sense of love that could have been present.

"But..." I stop and swallow. I hesitate and look up at Van, cautious, already knowing that by doing so, I would lose. I wouldn't be able to continue my argument, his looks alone could shut me up so easily.

And when my my eyes finally met his cold ones, that's exactly what happened. We only held contact for a split second before I coward away, but that seemed to be enough.

I lost my motivation to keep up the fight. Whether it be Van's anger, my own tiredness, the fact that I knew Van would win once again, or a combination of all three, it seemed worthless. So I say there, gazing at the ground, body trembling.

Sam would find out that I had been crying no matter what. My cheeks would be stained with tears, and my eyes would remain red for a while. It would be easier to just agree with Van, like I always end up doing. Maybe I wouldn't be so upset all the time if I actually listened sometimes. Van most definitely would be a lot nicer if I gave him the control he wanted.

And then my mind wanders to life outside of this island. To the people who were living normally, going to work and school, sleeping in a bed with blankets, not towels, taking real showers. I started to wonder what I did to deserve this, and what I did to deserve everything else that happened in my life. Why did my parents died, why I got in a plane accident, why my sister died, why I can't just have a normal life. Why nothing seemed to work out.

"What are you thinking, darlin? Tell me what's on your mind," Van says. It never failed to amaze me when he says things like that, something so warm and caring, right after being so loud and hostile. It's like he could just flip a switch and he'd be a completely different person.

"I...don't know," I say, a lie that Van can see right through.

"Baby, please," he says, letting go of my hands, knowing I'm not going anywhere. He moves closer and puts his hand on my cheek just as a tear slips from my eyes, making him immediately take his hand off of me.

"I'm sorry, Tris. I don't want you to feel scared," he says, moving back a little bit, thinking he was the one making me upset. Only I wasn't crying because of Van or Mike, I was crying because of everything. Because everything in my life seems to work against me.

I shake my head. "It's not you," I say, sounding just as frail and weak as I felt. I form fists with my hands and squeeze tightly in hopes of calming my uneven breathing that I could tell was coming along.

"Tris," Van says, noticing my hands. "Hey now, relax for me, yeah?" He says, but he didn't know how hard that was for me. Van didn't get anxious like me, he probably never had to be told to relax because he always seems to have things under control. Telling me to relax was like telling a fish to climb a tree.

Van grabs my hands, prying his fingers in between my own to separate them from my palm. He holds my clammy hands and waits for me to calm down, only I couldn't. My breathing wasn't getting any more controlled, no matter how hard I tried, and my chest felt tight.

I felt bad for Van, for him having to put up with not only my irresponsibility, but also my anxiety. If I had died on the plane crash instead of Annabelle, Van wouldn't have to be dealing with this mess right now. But that's not how things were, of course. Because the world doesn't work in my favor. And, apparently, it doesn't work in Van's favor either.

"Tris, darlin, do you think you need your medicine?" He asks with uncertainty mixed in his voice. Uncertainty and something else I couldn't make out. Sadness, maybe.

I know he didn't want to waste my medicine since I only had a few pills left. We've only been here a short period of time and I've already used some of them, only proving how dependent I was on them and how bad my anxiety really was.

I shake my head. My pills would run out sooner or later, and I'd have to deal with moments like these without a drug to help, I knew that as well as Van. So I might as well start without them now.

Van lets out a deep breath, something that seemed to be impossible for me at the moment. "I think you do, love," he tells me, the uncertainty still lingering in his voice.

"No," I wheeze out. It felt like a thousand needles poking my lungs when I spoke.

Van ignores me, though. "C'mon, I'll carry you back," he says, standing up and still holding my hands. I remain seated on the sand. "Get up for me, darlin." He tugs gently on my arms, which was enough to convince me.

I was too weak to say no again, and I didn't want to hear Van telling me not to be difficult right now. Though, in my eyes, I'm always difficult. I'll always be a burden to Van, and he's always, for some unknown reason, going to put up with me.

"Thank you," he says and lifts me up, placing me on his hip. I bury my face in the side of Van's neck, hoping it will be enough for no one to be able to see my face when we walk back, especially Sam. I can't have him think I'm as sensitive and frail as I am.

Van rests one hand on my head, and the other under my bum. He kisses the top of my head. His lips stay there for a few seconds before he starts walking.

I could only hope that Sam and Bondy, or anyone else, wouldn't see us walking to the plane. I bite my tongue, hoping to hold back any tears and loud sobs until we at least get on the plane.

"Try to take some deep breaths for me. Everything is going to work out, love. I promise," he says softly into my ear.

I tried my best to believe him, but it was hard to do so when nothing in my life has really ever worked out.