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Chapter 12. Breakdown

Claire's p.o.v.
He can't wait to see me. Really? I find his message a bit too much. He does look like he is hiding something, but all I know is that I haven't been able to pull out a smile since before...well, that (I feel a pinch in my heart) and I did somehow get back my voice too, so I think I should give this new path I came across a chance. Besides, that's what I came here for, running away from everything and everyone in an attempt to start fresh and maybe self-heal and so far things were looking up for me.
Back home, I was suffering the emotional pressure from everyone I knew and that wasn't helpful or encouraging. What was even worse for me, was their pity and the way they would always talk in front of me about it, like I wasn't even there.
They knew nothing really. No one really understood how I felt. How it is to experience the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, at all times. To lose interest in everything and prefer to die, rather than barely living. Eating was a task, sleeping was a task and even breathing was feeling unnatural.
What could possibly get worse for me? My life is already holding on to a single thread, as I gave up hope a long time ago, when I literally lost everything. I remember wishing for my death and feeling very angry with the universe for not getting me out of my misery. Haven't I suffered enough already, to deserve it?
Then one day I snapped out of it. I got up from the bed feeling so sore, from laying there for weeks. I remember finding it sickly amusing that my sore body matched my aching soul. I thought by miss-treating my body, I was punishing myself, although it didn't make sense, as I wasn't to blame for what happened.
I would try and try continuously to push the images away, along with the pain, but that was all I was always thinking of. Even while sleeping, nightmares would continue to torture me. This wasn't something I could self-heal, although I was a professional and I knew exactly what it was and what had to be done. My mind felt numb, but it seemed to be still functioning, as I was aware of what I was going through.
I knew I should allow myself to grieve before taking any medication, even though I desperately needed it, but when a month passed by and I was getting worse, i began acting like many of my clients, who would initially refuse my help, though they seemed to know they needed it, as badly as I did now. Now I really know how hard it was for them. When you are going through depression, you are self destructive and your subconscious fights away anything that can actually help you.
I got up from the bed to get a shower without even remembering how long has it been since my last one. My mother warned me that if she came back home today from work and find me in the same state she left me in the morning, she would take me in a recovery clinic. My sense of smell seemed to have disappeared along with all my other senses. I wasn't hungry or thirsty and I felt nothing besides pain. I would only feel the emptiness, as my body used to have another life growing in it, before HE took it away.
My baby... I will never be able to hold her in my arms. She would forever remain a memory that I created only in my imagination. He took everything away from me, without a reason. Everything! The pain grew bigger in my chest, as it always did every time my mind would go back to that hotel room. Him breathing heavily on top of me, reeking of alcohol and yelling things that I couldn't even understand, while forcing himself on me, again and again, until I bled. His eyes were foreign to me as the way he was looking into mine was as if it wasn't him in that body. He looked possessed. I would scream for help through his fingers that were blocking my mouth, to the point my voice was gone. I would nonstop try to push him away and I kept telling him about the baby, our baby...
"Claire! Claire!" I felt two hands shaking my shoulders, trying to bring me back to reality. I look up and I see Alexander.
"Claire are you ok? Are you hurt? Claire answer me. Why are you crying? What happened?" He said while looking genuinely worried.
And then I do what I wasn't even expecting myself to do. I pull his shirt with my fists bringing my self close to him and I hide my face in his chest, bursting into tears uncontrollably, because all I needed was a safe place to hide. While having a total breakdown, he stands there still, obviously in shock, not knowing how to react to this. I didn't realize I was crying before, but now I feel the top of my dress soaked in tears and I slowly return from whatever dimension I had disappeared to when I allowed my mind to take a peek in what was deliberately avoided and remained hidden and suppressed in the depths of my brain. I immediately push him away and apologize, feeling confused and upset with my outburst in public.
"I am so sorry for this. I don't know what to say, nor I can explain to you why I acted like that." I look up and he is standing at the exact same spot I pushed him, looking lost and confused.
"Are you ok?" He finally says.
"No! But I beg of you, not to ask me anything else. Not for now at least. Maybe one day I will be able to explain this to you. Please, give me a minute to change my dress and we can go."

His p.o.v.
I found her sitting in the lobby area in the most secluded place in that state of...horror. She was crying uncontrollably and completely unresponsive to my voice.
I don't think I have ever been so confused and troubled, my entire life. I couldn't make a single assumption to what I just experienced. It surely wasn't about that last pathetic text I sent, so what on earth was that all about?
I should be running away from this crazy woman, but when she was in my arms, all I wanted to do was to cuddle her and say sweet, soothing things to ease her pain, but instead I literally froze. This was a new feeling to me.
She returns looking much better and she enters the car first, while I am holding the door and follow her to sit across where she was. There is an awkward silence in this tiny space and I feel very uncomfortably as I don't know how to react to this. I decide to break the tension and say something... anything, but I am unable to hide my nervousness and think of anything good, so I just open my mouth and say the first thing that comes to my mind.
"I am sorry for that last text I sent you earlier . It was meant for someone else, whom I am meeting tonight and because I was simultaneously texting you, I mixed up the replies. You must have thought I was nuts" and a pathetic attempt of a laugh escapes my mouth.
"No, don't worry, I sort of figured that out" she replies, looking down. Her eyes are bloodshot red and swollen and she is just as pale as that first time I saw her at the airport, but at least she can still speak.
"You are not going to faint on me again are you?" I ask in another even more pathetic attempt to lighten things up. "You look a little pale, that's why." I answer to myself, when I saw that I was headed to the exact opposite direction of making things better.
"Look, we'll be at the restaurant in less than 15 minutes. I am sure, that when you get something to eat, you will feel and look much better." I continue as she seems uneasy with what I said and I now understand it's better to stay quiet, as she doesn't seem to appreciate my chattiness. She is looking blankly out of the car's window, reminding me the look she had that time after she had pushed my hand away, refusing my help to stand up from the airport's floor.
I am wondering what is the story behind her and at the same time I am not sure I want to know. I am surely curious, but I have enough things in my hand as it is, so I am not to bother with other people's problems. Why does it seem so intriguing though, to find out what's behind those beautiful, yet sad eyes? It was the second time I ever came across with those eyes that were hiding so much pain in them that affected me and that couldn't be good.
I come out of my thoughts when I suddenly realize the car has now stopped moving and I reach for the handle to open the door, to find myself in the same awkward position as last time, of touching her hand, because she was simultaneously doing the exact same thing. This time I gently push away her hand and I speak with a soft voice.
"Allow me."