Breaker
The heat of my blood feels like it's seeping through my skin, a slow boil threatening to erupt. Ava's right in front of me, but she might as well be a thousand miles away.
Her eyes, those piercing honeyed eyes that used to hold me like an anchor, now glance through me as if I'm just another stranger. It's tearing me apart, splintering the edges of the control I'm gripping onto for dear life.
She doesn't remember me. At first, I thought it was some sort of game. But every time she tells me she doesn’t know me, the words are a punch to the gut, leaving me winded and mad with rage at such a thought. The thing is, I believe her.
That’s what’s worse.
After five long years of dreaming of this moment, it's ripped to shreds in front of me, and there is nothing I can do to change it.
“What did they do to you?” I try to remain calm, but this is all starting to form in my head. Each piece of the puzzle as to what is happening is starting to fall into place.
“They?” Ava replies, confused and wary.
“What happened?” I ask her. “What do you mean ‘your accident’?”
“I only know what they told me: truck ran into my car. Sometimes little bits come back. I remember it was snowing, close to Christmas. A screech of brakes, a scream, I’m not sure if the scream came from me. The Christmas lights of the houses all along the street suddenly became so bright it filled my world. And then I woke up,” Ava tells him, tears welling in her eyes.
“Do you remember before the accident?” I ask her.
She takes a deep breath. “No, I mean, I don't know, everything's fragmented. There are holes where there should be memories." A shiver runs through her, and I clench my fists, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her into the safety of my arms. "Since then, I've been... different. Anxious. Like I'm waiting for a storm I can't see."
“What hospital?” I ask her, almost knowing the answer. Ava looks up, blinking at me in confusion.
“What hospital did you go to after… after your accident?” I ask again, being careful to keep my face and voice neutral.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. Somewhere in the countryside, private. They told me some rich old lady had seen what happened to me on the news– she’d been in something similar years ago, and wanted to pay for my treatment,” Ava explains.
“Did you ever meet this woman?” I ask.
“No, they said she wanted to remain anonymous. Honestly, it’s better that way. If she wanted the recognition or wanted to talk to me, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Ava looks at me for a moment, and I know without needing to ask that she’s weighing me, weighing how much of herself she wants to gift me. She did it all the time when we first started seeing each other.
I hope she decides I’m worthy of her honesty now.
“I don’t think I am better off from surviving,” Ava admits. “There is something I’m missing, something that made me whole that I’ve lost.”
Her words hit me with the weight of a sledgehammer. She's been altered, changed in ways no one should ever endure. My mind races, piecing together the jagged shards of information, looking for the culprit, the reason.
And worse– she truly believes that she would’ve been better off dead than living the life she’s been living since.
All because of me.
They wanted to sever our connection and rip her from the fate that bound us together. And they succeeded.
"What did they do to you?" I ask, barely recognizing the snarl in my voice. It's all I can do not to tear down the world around us, to hunt, to make them pay for the shadows haunting her gaze.
But I swallow the inferno of my rage because Ava needs me to be calm. She needs me here, not lost in the vengeance that beckons with its siren call.
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