“Hey.” Nessa put her hand on my shoulder and tilted her head in close to mine.
The truth was, I couldn’t breathe with her arms hanging around me the way they were. The painkillers had definitely taken the edge off, but my back still stung, and I was scared of the movement doing something to open my stitches. It was even hard to sit with my ass throbbing. The doctor said that the stitches would deteriorate and that he believed there was no long-term damage, but if I had bleeding or something felt off, I should see my doctor back home. It was almost laughable. In our small town there was no way I would go to a doctor and explain what happened. I knew they have to abide by confidentiality clauses, but I would have to see that doctor all over town and worry about the judgment he would paint me with.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Nessa sobbed into my shoulders. I didn’t know if she was apologizing for tonight or for showing me this new lifestyle. I couldn’t help but flinch. “What is it, Vick?”
“My back is split open, it burns like a bitch,” I hissed through gritted teeth because the pain was that bad. Nessa’s hand flew up to her mouth.
“Vicky, I’m sorry I let you down. Can you please forgive me?” she asked, throwing me off.
“This wasn’t your fault. I was lonely. I made a choice, Nessa. It has nothing to do with you,” I replied, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head. The truth was that the sex clubs had been a good distraction for me. I got so worked up with all of the positive endorphins that I felt good. It was the only time I did feel good.
“Vicky, I’ve been at this scene longer than you, there are some messed up freaks around. I should have stopped you, but I was too busy doing my thing. I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t know what it feels like to take care of another person….” she drifted off sadly.
“Don’t beat yourself up, just please help me get home. I need to get home,” I answered her urgently. My gut told me something was happening and I needed to get home now, but we had an eight-hour bus ride ahead of us.
“Give me your bag,” she said, taking my backpack and swung it over her free shoulder. “Let me help you walk,” she said, placing her arm around my waist while helping me forward, step by slow step. Her assistance was appreciated, but I couldn’t stop shaking.
The sky opened up and a drizzle began to fall, it felt like the angels up in heaven were crying for me. I didn’t know how I was going to survive. Clearly Nessa had found a way, I was worried that I didn’t have her inner strength or will to survive. She was only twelve when she was left alone. I’m twenty and should have been on better footing. I should have known better than to go back to a stranger’s apartment. As the cab stopped in front of the central bus station, Nessa paid the driver and we got out. She hadn’t said a word to me, but I could tell she was worried, she thinks that I won’t be her friend anymore.
We took the first bus back to Thunder Bay. I willed myself to get my head together because I had responsibilities to attend to when I got home.
“Please give me another chance, Vicky, whatever you need I will have your back. I am sorry for what happened, but I don’t want you to walk away from me,” she pleaded sadly with her blue eyes circled in red rims. I had only met her three months ago when I went to a bar on the edge of town to drown my sorrows for an evening. She was the bartender and apparently I poured my soul out to her before falling asleep on a barstool. She took pity on me, and hauled me back to her room at the back of the bar, not knowing who I was or where I was from. She only knew my sad story. It was enough for her to open her heart to me.
“I’m not pushing you away, Nessa….I just…..” I trailed off because what I wanted to say was too dark.
“Hush.” She put her finger to her mouth. “I understand.”
Her two words meant everything. Her understanding meant everything. If she survived what she had in one piece, then I could too. I think. She was surviving…I mean, her life wasn’t what I would call normal but she got through her days. It didn’t matter. I stopped myself from overanalyzing because she understood and that was huge. I just didn’t know if it would be enough to hold all the pieces of me together when things fell apart.
“Thank you, Nessa,” I breathed out as the pain medicine took effect, and I was lulled into the most peaceful sleep I had had in three months.
Chapter 2
Luc
Present
I pulled into traffic in my black Aston Martin on my way to the psychiatrist’s office. I had a weakness for fine cars and women. The latter may be my downfall. As I drove here I replayed my time in Canada. The many ways I hurt Alexis, my ex-wife. The many ways I lied to her and my heart twists anew. My memories delve back even further to the day my father finally granted me permission to leave France. What a fool I was. I was so happy to be away I didn’t realize how connected I still was. Lying and cheating had been engrained in my soul from a young age, and as much as I thought I was better than my father’s goons because I understood the difference between right and wrong, I deceived myself. I deceived my ex-wife into believing I was someone I was not. I wasn’t free. The Blanchard name was like a chain of bad morals that hung freely around my neck. It made me believe that what I did with Alexis was okay. I was good to her but I fed her lie after lie about who I was. Nothing about our relationship was real, except that I tried to save her from herself and her bad ways.
As I pulled up to the psychiatrist’s building my father’s words ring clear. “You are free.” After my brother Henri shot me, when he tried to kill my ex-wife, and I stood in front of the gun trying to fight him off, I wanted to believe my father’s words to be true. Despite the fact that he sold his soul to the devil, he needed to understand that there was something wrong with one brother trying to kill the other. I run my hand over the left side of my heart, where the tattoo of an eagle is engraved on my chest, and I know I will never be free. It’s been two and a half years since I left France, and yet, I still feel like I am locked in a chamber.
As I made my way up to my psychiatrist’s office, I took in a deep breath, wondering if there was a purpose to my weekly visits, because it’s been so long and my past still haunts me every step I take. The eagle may represent my freedom, but I had it engraved in my skin as a sign of healing not freedom, for I will never truly be freed from the chains that bind me.
As I entered the doctor’s office, I took a seat in the armchair and settled in comfortably. I had become comfortable with Dr. Davies. He’s even become a friend.
“Luc, you are being too difficult on yourself, I know you’ve done bad things, but you are trying to be a better person, you haven’t touched alcohol or drugs in two years. Those were two catalysts that prompted your bad behavior. You need to give yourself some credit and forgive yourself if you are going to be able to lead a normal life,” Dr. Davies argued, as he glanced at me over his eyeglasses that sat low on his nose. His skin was aged, his grey hair peeked out in spirals over his glasses, and he sat with one leg crossed over the other giving me his full attention. He’s the best in New York City, and I’ve been coming to regular meetings with him since arriving here two years ago.
“Doctor, I want to believe your words but I had the dream again last night. I’m standing in front of Alexis at the university and she says the words, ‘The baby is gone.’ Her voice is on repeat and the more she says it, the more tormented I feel,” I explained, as the doctor nodded his head. I must have relayed this story to him a hundred times over but how can one forget a living nightmare. My ex-wife had stood in front of me, telling me that I lost control and killed her unborn child when I beat her, almost to death.