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Day seven: I endeavor the gym but I can barely make it up the stairs. With one hand, my mobile in my other, I grip the banister so hard that my knuckles turn white, but every step I take is like walking Mount Everest.
Another step and another step. I'm halfway up the staircase now, but I just can't make the rest.
I struggle for another step, fighting with lower body force, and a wound on my back splits.
“Aargh!” I scream through closed teeth, and finally, I break down.
I can't take this numb feeling anymore. I can't stand the pain anymore.
Sliding down the wall, I sit here on the stairs, cradling my mobile, wondering why I don't feel anything. Wondering why I'm so empty. I want to cry but I can't.
Is this a result of Maksim or Charlie?
Charlie...
“Fuck!” I scream so loud that I can feel my voice in the atmosphere. I thrash my fingers into my hair and pull at the strands, inflicting my own pain.
It's the first time I've thought of him since... since...
He shouldn't have sent me home early—a week I could have been with him is a week I've been in pain. He shouldn't have given me this damn bracelet. All of this, the pain and the vacancy in my chest, it's all his fault.
Tears spill down my cheeks, warm tears, and a rush of emotions hit me like a dam has been smashed open.
I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want Maksim to hurt me anymore. I just want to find some peace.
I felt great peace while living with Charlie, after the first night with him, of course. But even then, he didn't hurt me. It was all mental. I miss waking up to his little notes in the kitchen, saying,breakfast is in the oven. I miss knowing he'll be in the gym. I miss that excitement I eventually felt when I knew we'd be having dinner together. I miss... I miss him.
My heart crushing, I scroll through my mobile for his number.
Decena.
The air gets caught in my throat. Tears drip on the screen, making his name look fuzzy. Wiping the tears off with my thumb, I read his number from back to front, storing it in my memory. I delete the name Decena and replace it with Charlie.
Charlie
I can't explain it, but just seeing his name makes me feel better. My chest tightens—no, squeezes, and a strong sense of contentment comes over me. I cannot even feel the pain anymore.
I miss him. I miss him too much.
Before I know it, I'm dialing his number, willing him to pick up because the ringer goes on and on. It takes a moment to register that he's still in England—I can tell by the ringtone—and another moment to wonder why. He said the only reason he was here was for me, and he sent me home, so why hasn't he returned to Mexico?
The ringer dies off but I call him again, and then again. I won't give up until I've spoken to him.
“Pick up,” I whisper, blood roaring in my ears. “Please pick up.”
“What?” he answers snappily on the sixth call, and my stomach sinks.
“Charlie,” I say softly, “it's-it's Blaire.”
“Shit, I'm sorry, baby,” his voice softens now, the deeper notes melting my bones. “I was expecting a call from someone else.”
“Oh... I-well... Shall I call back later or something?”
“No!” he sounds horrified that I'd even ask. “You can call me whenever you want. I've told you that.”
I let out a purifying breath of relief, my nose tickling with more tears. It's so good to hear his voice, and it's so good to know I can still contact him whenever I want.
He tells someone to leave the room, then I hear a heavy door shut.
