Page 159 of 912321

Play - Lover, Please Stay by Nothing But Thieves

I keep reaching out to you

When I'm confronted with something that reminds me of what my mother went through, the emptiness she left behind, the fear of getting attached to someone because everyone always ends up leaving, I think back to the boy I was.

I see his reflection in the mirror again, empty, emotionless, silent, and lost. All alone.

And every time I see that same look in someone else's eyes, something inside me breaks.

With her, it was always worse. I stop thinking, I stop analyzing. All logic vanishes. I simply refuse to watch her sink. I don't want to see this bottomless sadness. I don't want to see this fear consuming her from within.

I don't want to see her hate herself even more.

I cup her face in my hands; my palm is stained with blood. It hurts, but I don't care, I don't feel it.

“Look at me.” Her gaze finally met mine. It was hazy, distant; a part of her was still somewhere else despite everything. “Listen to me. We’re going to do something.”

She blinked slowly as if fighting to gain control back. From all the rage, the built up fear that turned dark.

“Do you trust me?” A few seconds passed before she nodded weakly. “Good. Then you’ll put on my jacket and let me handle this. I’ll get you out of here and take care of the rest.”

She didn’t reply. Her eyes slid behind me to the man’s body. Her tears hadn’t dried yet; there was blood on her face, on her dress, everywhere.

I took off my jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders, and took her hand in mine. This time, she squeezes my fingers loosely. I help her up; her balance is unstable, so I put an arm around her shoulders as we leave the room.

In the hallway, I keep my back to the cameras as much as possible. The jacket obscures part of her face. With the dim light and the distance, the difference in our builds with the dead man inside the room isn't very noticeable.

I lower my head toward her as if we were a couple. As if we were whispering in each other's ears. As if this night were like any other.

“It's going to be okay, I promise,” I whisper to her.

We walk slowly to the elevator, the doors close behind us and silence falls immediately. I take her in my arms and she barely reacts at first. Her forehead rests against my shoulder, and then I feel her hands tighten around me.

“Focus on my voice, not the memory. Me,” I whisper.

Choosing someone who's suffering is a particular kind of tragedy. Because no matter how much you want them, you can't get inside their head and fight the monsters for them.

You just stand there, watching, hoping and picking up the pieces when everything falls apart. But it's worth it. It always will be.

I know it the moment her eyes lay on me when the doors open on the ground floor, I would pick up the ruins that her soul is built from and rebuild it every time she needs it.

A few minutes later, she settled in the back of my car. I close the door and stay outside.

The phone rings three times before he answers, “What did you do this time?”

I look through the window. She's motionless, her gaze distant, my jacket slipping off her shoulders.

“I need a cleaning.”

My contact replies with a long sigh, “How urgent is it?”

“Very.”

“I'm on another continent. If you want me to come quickly, it's going to cost you.”

“I don't care.” My gaze returns to her for a second before adding, “Do it. Send me the bill afterward.”

“You know I'll bankrupt you,” he laughs.