For Your Eyes Only

I woke up on Annie’s bed, curled in a ball at her side. I didn’t stir at all as I felt her hand gently stroking my hair and… She was humming. Maybe if I was still she would… yes. There. She began to sing softly, an uncertain waver still in her voice.
“Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you.” I smiled a little, trying to seem asleep, but her voice was flawless. The sweet sound reminded me of soft waves on the beach, or the comforting noise of rain spattering on the roof. Her voice was almost like liquid, flowing through my mind and easing away my tension. “Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?” Finally I began to shift around until I was sat up and facing her. She blushed deeply as her voice faded out to nothing, realizing I was in fact, awake.
“That was beautiful,” I whispered.
“Y-you heard?” she asked quietly. I nodded in reply, quickly pressing my lips to hers for comfort. She hummed quietly into the kiss, watching my eyes carefully as I pulled away. She knew what I was going to ask.
“Annie… I-I… I saw your medical history…” Now she refused to meet my eyes at all. She only picked at her fingernail polish, remaining silent, much to my despair. “Baby, please, we have to talk about this.”
“No we don’t,” she whispered, sniffling. I pulled her into my arms and allowed her a moment to softly cry into my shoulder, but it was nothing like what had happened last night on the bus.
“Yes we do,” I whispered back. “Look, I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but there’s more to it than I thought, and I can’t help if I don’t know.”
“You promised.” It hurt me to hear the break in her voice, but she was right. I did promise, and now I was breaking that promise. But… I needed her to talk about it. I had to know why she had done those things to herself. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how.
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said. What was I supposed to say? I loved her more than my own life, but she wanted to end hers. She bit her lip, and I would have smiled if it weren’t for our current situation. “Tell me.” Almost two minutes went by as I watched her struggle between her heart and mind, each telling the other something else. Finally she took a deep breath and began to speak.
“The first time… The first time, Dad had just called me… Called me awful, awful things… He called me a whore and-and said he regretted ever even keeping me. He said I was a mistake and that Mum should have listened when he told her to abort me. He was right, I am a mistake. I don’t deserve to be alive. I-I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Shhhhh. You’re perfect and I love you more than food,” I whispered, trying to crack a lame joke. She smiled and sniffled, wiping her wrists across her eyes.
“So I went to my bathroom and found the Tylenol bottle. I had heard my best friend talk about her friend’s sister taking too many pills and almost dying, so I took twenty-four of them. I remember the number because it was all that was left in there, and I was worried that it wouldn’t be enough. I only wanted to die. But Mom found me and called an ambulance. They pumped my stomach and after recovery I went back home.”
She told me about how her dad would make her do things like clean the kitchen floors with a toothbrush, or clip the bushes outside with children’s scissors. She told me how he used to drop a beer all over the floor, and kick her when she bent down to clean it, and kick her again for being ‘clumsy’. My blood began to boil as she described the gruesome treatment she received. After she recovered from the pills, she started cutting. She said it made her feel like she was still a person, that she still had emotions. It made her feel.
The second time she attempted suicide, she said, was a week before the drugs bust at her house. Her dad had forced her to give his friend’s son a blowjob, then made her strip down to her underwear in front of all of them. She sobbed in my arms, telling how they laughed at her scars and verbally abused her for hours. After they had passed out from the excessive alchohol, she had thrown her clothes back on and run out of the house, ignoring the profanities her mother was screaming. Annie told me that she ran to the Bourne Bridge in her hometown and stood herself outside of the railing, preparing to jump, when she saw another man ready to do the same. People began gathering around, watching the pair and pleading with them not to jump.
“I… I called over to him. He was only about twenty feet away. He was older, probably in his late fifties. He was wearing old, worn-out clothes and had dark skin. We scooted close and held hands for a while without talking at all. We understood how the other felt, even if we didn’t know the situations. I remember the Police came and were talking, but we ignored them. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing that he didn’t really want to jump, and neither did I. We just wanted relief. I remember asking him to help me, and he picked me up and carried me over the railing and back to the police. He wouldn’t allow them to take me, though. He sat down and held me, Ni, like you did on our first date. He held me and let my cry, ruining what was probably his only good shirt. And just before the policeman came and took me away, he said something I’ll never forget.” She stopped and glanced away, then nervously back at me.
“And what was that?” I whispered.
“A special man is gonna want you someday, and he’ll be pretty disappointed if you’re not there to meet him.”
I pulled her into a hug and let her squeeze a few more tears onto my shoulder. I hated her father and mother. I hated them for what they did to her. I hated them for how they made her feel alien and unwanted.
“I love you, Annie.” I inhaled the scent of her soft, dark brown hair, relishing the feeling of her body melting into mine. She felt so perfect against me that I couldn’t help but think that we were meant to be. “Don’t you ever doubt it.”
“I love you too, Niall,” she squeaked, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “But there’s more. The phone call, Ni.” She paled, remembering. I didn’t speak. I just allowed her to steel herself for the things she would reveal. “I-I lied to you, Ni.” What? Again, I forced myself to remain silent. “I, um, I have a brother. His name is… His name is Jackson.” Well, that’s not what I was expecting, for sure. She searched my face for shock, or hurt, or anger, but I didn’t feel any. I just felt a deep pain for everything she’d been through, and I understood why she wouldn’t tell me everything. Everyone else had only betrayed her, so she was used to keeping secrets. “I hated him for a long time. He left for the Marines when I was ten. I hated him because he abandoned me to take the abuse alone. He didn’t want to be there anymore, so he just left. I blocked him out and made myself forget about him. I wouldn’t speak to him on the phone. I didn’t answer his letters.
“Not until last year. Auntie sent him my new address, and he began sending letters to the shop. They said a lot of things about how service was, and how things were in the Middle East, where he was stationed. He was in a lot of active combat, and he said the letters were the only way he could talk about. But he also said a lot about how he wished he had never left me all alone. He wished he could see me and ask forgiveness to my face. Every letter, Ni, every letter he apologized, and I still couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive him. Every letter!” she began to sob again, but this time it was different. She wasn’t crying in sorrow or pain. She was crying in anger. Anger at herself. And that hurt me more than words can say. “I never responded, and now he’s dead, Niall! Now he’s dead and he’ll never know that I love him! He’ll never know!” she shouted. I felt tears spill over my cheeks as I hugged her for the billionth time today, but it still hurt to pull her close and know that she hated herself when I loved her more than life itself.
“Annie, please stop. I-I don’t know what to do. I want to make it go away. I want to make you feel better, but I don’t…” I didn’t want to admit defeat, but I was lost. I didn’t know what to do with all of the emotions I felt, and with all of the emotions she was showing. I felt so helpless. “Annie.” I changed my tone, wondering if she would consent to what my mind was telling me to do. “Let me make you feel good. Please, I want to make you feel good.”

Notes

There was a special man, alright. I will not be posting a chapter where he touches her, but the next chapter will be her point of view and she'll be thinking about it for a bit.