Page 60 of The Player
I didn’t want to think about him anymore.
I didn’t want to think about anything.
I thought getting out would feel different, but this, it was bittersweet. Not the homecoming I’d anticipated. Grief was knocking at the door, guilt was hammering at the walls, and despair had packed its bags, ready to move in. My world had changed forever, and I couldn’t face it, not today. I’d probably choke if I tried to eat that cheeseburger I’d talked about when we were back in the basement, and I didn’t want my family here to see what was left of the old me. All I wanted was him. And time. Time that I hoped would heal the wounds, but I doubted it.
I cleaned his ear as best I could and then dried it, applying the Steri Strips to help it heal.
“That’ll have to do until we can get to a hospital.”
“I don’t do hospitals,” Will replied, tentatively touching his ear. “If I need it cleaned up or fixed again, you or one of the boys can do it.”
The boys.
I wouldn’t be able to avoid his friends forever, and I knew an almighty war was heading our way when they found out where we’d been. Maybe they already knew and the war was in full swing, being waged with the enemy that was yet to be tracked down. But I doubted it. The soldiers were tenacious. If they knew one of their own had been taken, they’d have burnt the world to cinders to find him.
“I need to shower,” I said, trying to distract Will and myself from thinking about the outside world. Not to mention, I could feel the filth seeping through my pores. Remnants of a place I knew I’d never forget, but I had to try, and washing it off seemed like the best place to start.
“I need a thousand showers.” Will stood up, pulling his dirty T-shirt over his head, careful not to catch his ear, and then he threw it in the bin in the kitchen as he walked past it on his way to the bathroom. I stayed glued to the spot, watching him walk away. Wondering how he could appear so calm, so at ease with it all.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”
He was at ease because he kept it all inside. The rage he felt would be trapped, stored, ready and waiting for the day when he faced the Taskmaster again. It wasn’t something he’d show me. He was a trained street soldier, a skilled fighter. He knew how to control his emotions better than I ever could.
“I’ve just put strips on your wound,” I stated, sounding like an over-protective girlfriend. “They’ll come off in the shower.”
I really should’ve thought about that before, but I’d been working on automatic pilot. Of course we’d need to shower, but I’d been so focused on patching him up, doing something to show how grateful I was for him that common sense had gone out the window.
“If they do, we can put more on after.” Will shrugged. “So, are you coming?”
I nodded, my feet following but my brain short-circuiting, because honestly, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like I had a huge mountain to climb, just to get through each minute, each second, each painfully searing flashback of what we’d both been through. I wished I didn’t feel things so deeply, that I could be more like him. But today, I’d lost my dad. Today, the world got a little darker.
“Just put one foot in front of the other, Bee,” Will whispered gently. “That’s all you need to do.”
“It’s all I can do.”
I remembered years ago, my mum telling me how she used to lock traumatic memories up in a box in her head, file them away, never to be reopened, and live her life like they’d never happened. I thought I had that skill too, but today, I’d learned that some things hurt too much to ever stay locked away. Some pain is too strong to ignore.
“I think I need to see someone,” I blurted out, closing the bathroom door behind me. “Like a therapist.”
“Like a therapist? Or an actual therapist?” Will gave me a hint of a smile as he reached into the shower and turned the water on.
“A therapist. A good one. One qualified to deal with the fucked-up shit we’ve seen and done. Someone who can help me come to terms with losing…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘dad’. My heart was heavy, and it hurt. It hurt so damn much.
Will nodded sadly, hearing what I said without me having to say it.
The water hissed as the room began to fill with steam, and he pulled his sweats down, kicking them off and standing in front of me naked. But the sorrow on his face made my heart ache because I knew that sorrow was for me.
“I don’t think there’s a therapist out there that can help me, I’m a lost cause.” He smirked, but I could see there was more behind his flippant remark. He hurt too, but he’d found other ways to cope with his demons. “But you? Yes, definitely. I think you should see someone. There’s no question about that.” He took a step closer to me. “Leah May, Devon’s missus, she sees a counsellor. Do you want me to ask her for their details? She said they’re good. They’ve helped her a lot.”
I hesitated, and he added, “I won’t say it’s for you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I sighed.
“Okay,” I replied, and he smiled, grabbing the hem of my dress and lifting it over my head, pulling it off, and throwing it on the floor. Then he took my hand in his. He was distracting me, but I didn’t mind.
“I’ll even come with you, if that helps. But don’t feel like you have to say yes. If you want privacy, I get it.”
Every minute of every day, this man continued to surprise me.
