Calia Read: Unravel

I take in the strong jaw below his sharp cheekbones. His skin is free of stubble and tan from the sun. He steps closer and his fingertips brush against the bare skin of my back. I shiver.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

I stare at us in the mirror. He lifts a brow. His lips curl up in a lazy smile.

Pulling my hair to the side, he wraps both of his hands around my arms, encouraging me to lean against him. I go willingly and when my shoulder blades touch his chest, I practically sigh. He stares at me through the mirror and slowly leans down to kiss me on the shoulder. His teeth graze my skin. I make a noise and tilt my head further to the side.

He asks the same question Lachlan asked minutes ago. “Do you love me, Naomi?”

My body still reacts at the way he says my name. I can barely swallow, so I nod as he moves in closer and breathes me in.

I do love him. In the most twisted, impossible way.

Max tilts his head and smirks, like he knows what I’m thinking. His hand moves from my neck and drifts lower. I watch as his large, tanned hand stops where my heart beats. His palm lays flat against my skin and his fingers spread.

His eyes droop to half-mast as he watches my reaction in the mirror. The tip of his nose brushes against my cheek. My hands fist up, and I watch in fascination as he kisses the curve of my cheekbone.

“If you love me then don’t give up,” he says, his voice a low whisper.

“I promise I won’t.”

I know what’s next. And I’m desperate for this time to be different. So I lean even further into him and smell his scent. For me, stuck in this place with sterile walls and musty scent, it’s refreshing. It wraps around me before it disappears.

Just like that, he’s already fading. My voice is stuck in my throat and I reach out for him, but my hand just slashes through the air.

He’s gone and I’m falling.

My back hits the back of my chair. I jump in pain and shock. My heart pounds in my ribcage, and I take deep, shallow breaths, trying to calm my heart.

“Naomi. Are you okay?”

I flinch and look up to find Mary staring at me.

Her face is etched with concern as she waits for me to answer. I swallow loudly and shake my head. Painfully, my fingers dig into my thighs while my body shakes with pent-up frustration.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s time for your medication,” she says.

I stand up and nod before I follow her back to my room.

I’m running on adrenaline, and a sweat breaks out across my forehead.

Even though he’s gone, I can still hear Max. I can still smell him. I can still feel his hands on my skin.

I know I’m not making Max up. I know I’m not imagining anything. And what scares the hell out of me is that all those facts change nothing.

The only fact that matters is that everyone thinks I’m a total headcase. And now, the one person that has consistently been there for me is losing hope.

Tonight, I would rather take the drugs than think about what is stacked against me.

Tomorrow, I’ll accept that in order to unravel my story, I’ll be destroyed first. Like the frozen water drop, it’s inevitable that I break.

Going, going… gone.

“What feels good to you?”

I roll onto my side and rest my head on my hand. Max lies on his stomach. Across from us, the window is open, letting in the summer heat. Bright sunlight pours into the bedroom. It trails across the floor, up onto the bed and slants across Max’s back. I trail my fingers across his tan skin before I lean close.

What feels good to me? I answer by kissing him hard on the mouth. Good. Max responds, his hands curving around my face, holding me in place as he sits up.

He moves above me, his lips never leaving mine. His body lowers and we’re skin to skin. He breathes through his nose and I wrap myself around him.

The hands that I love trace the outline of my body. His breath is warm against my skin, kissing my jaw and moving further down.

And then he’s ripped from my embrace. He reaches back for me. Right before he disappears, I see the look of fear in his eyes. It’s not for himself. That fear is for me.

“Get out of my head,” I moan. “Get out, get out, get out!”

I forcefully press my palms against my eyes forcefully until spots form. I keep pressing, hoping the image of Max will dissolve.

How long can a memory replay before your mind short circuits? I can feel my mind trying to keep up with all my Max memories. It works faster and faster. Starts to overheat. And then boom. It explodes.

Right now, it doesn’t seem like such a bad option. I want a blissful moment where I can just… be .

No memories.

No words.

No pain.

Silence.

I stand up from my bed and pace. A frustrated groan escapes me. I’m tired of being stuck in this place. This small room. I stare at the four, cream colored walls that surround me. They’re blank. No pictures of family, no posters. Nothing. Other than the television, the only thing I have for entertainment is the big, square window.

I’m tired of it all.

It’s like being trapped in a box. And every day that I’m trapped, the sides close in just a little bit more.

Most days, I can handle this place. But now that Lachlan is staying away, I’m afraid. He was my only source of support.

Mary knocks on my door. Nine a.m. sharp. I expect to see her usual somber face, but today she looks at me with a light in her eyes. “Good. You’re up.” She hands me morning pills. “You’re seeing a new doctor today,” she says.

I frown as I swallow them all. “Why?”

I think Dr. Woods is full of shit. He thinks I’m a whackjob. We have a silent understanding; he prescribes me medicine, and I pretend to listen to his advice.

“Why? I don’t know why you’re seeing someone new.” She nudges her head toward the hall and I can’t tell if she’s lying to me. “Are you ready?”

No, I’m not ready. I hate change and I don’t want to start all over again with a new doctor.

“Has Woods given up on me?”

“Naomi…” She sighs and looks away. “I’ve already told you I don’t know why you’re seeing someone new.”

“Mary, if you’re going to lie to me make sure your delivery is right. Make me believe it.”

She gives me a blank look, but one corner of her mouth pulls up. Just a little. “Just come on, will you? You’re going to be late,” she says.

“So… this new doctor. Does it have a name?” I ask as we walk down the hall.

“It’s a She not an It. And her name is Dr. Rutledge. She’s new here and excited to meet you.”

I toy with the ties of my gray sweatshirt, processing this new information. “Will I be the first to suck the hope out of her?”

“No, you’re not the first.” Mary looks over at me, a warning in her eyes. “She’s very nice.”

Being nice means nothing here. I give her nine months before she’s either handing me off to another doctor, or she’s packing up her pretty diplomas and hightailing it out of here.

We stop in front of a closed door. I stare at the bronze nameplate. In black letters is the name Genevieve Rutledge, M.D.

She will be just one more person that will judge me and I’m not ready for that.

“Are you going in?” Mary asks.

I don’t want to answer all the stupid questions. I don’t want to deal with her gaze quietly assessing me.

“Naomi?”

“Yeah. I’m going, I’m going.” I say the words but my legs refuse to move. My hands stay rooted at my sides, like weights are attached to them.

Mary loses her patience. She knocks loudly on the door before she walks away. I watch her, and for the first time, I wish I could follow.