Page 71 of The Player
“It’s a Scream mask. You know, Ghostface.”
“I know what it is. I also know he wore one when we were in that… place. Why have you brought it here?”
My stomach turned.
He wasn’t happy.
I wasn’t sure how he was going to react when I showed him all this, but I didn’t expect him to be angry with me.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, gathering it all up to stuff back into the bag. “It was a stupid idea.”
“No.” Will grabbed my hand to stop me. “It wasn’t a stupid idea. I just want you to explain the mask to me. Please.” He took the bag out of my hand, emptying it back onto the bed. Then he crumpled the bag in his hands and threw it into the corner. “Talk to me.”
I took a moment, breathing in and out, trying to make sense of the random thoughts spiralling in my brain. And then, I just dived in, trying not to overthink what I was saying.
“Every night, when I close my eyes, that’s what I see.” I gestured to the mask. “Every time I fall asleep, that fucking mask haunts me. I can be standing in the kitchen, making a cup of tea, and that fucking thing pops into my head and I’m paralysed with fear. It’s got a fucking hold of me, Will, and I hate it. I hate it because that’s the mask he wore when he sent us to kill my dad. That fucking mask has me hostage, still stuck in that fucking basement, and I want out. I need to get out.”
I didn’t realise I was so breathless until he grabbed my shoulders and stared right into my eyes.
“It’s okay, just breathe, Bee. Breathe.” And then he started to breathe with me, his pants regulating my own, trying to calm me down.
I nodded and panted in time with him.
“Good.” He nodded back. “That’s good. You need to talk about these things. Facing them is good. It’ll help. But you need to remember it’s early days. You can’t run till you learn how to walk. We need baby steps. That’s how we’ll get through this.”
I knew he was right. But I also felt like I’d set my heart on trying this, and I didn’t want to back down now.
“Tell me what it is you need,” Will asked, as if he’d burrowed into my thoughts and could see that I needed more from him.
I held his gaze with mine, my heartbeat hammering as I whispered, “I want you to wear it.”
He swallowed, but his expression didn’t give anything away about how he felt.
“Why do you want me to wear it?”
“So I can be in control.” I took another pause to gather my thoughts. “I want to replace the flashbacks and the images with something else.”
“You do know that might not work. Or worse, you might put yourself back if you see me in that. It might trigger the trauma again. I’m not sure I’m willing to take that risk. Not yet. It’s still so raw, Bee.”
“But what if it helps me? What if the nightmares get better?”
My voice had turned shrill and desperate.
“You’re gonna have nightmares for a long time. You’ve lost your father, and it was brutal and horrific. There’s no hiding from that. No quick fix.”
“But this might be the start of a fix of some kind.”
Will let his head fall back, his eyes on the ceiling as he let out a low, heavy sigh. Then he dropped his head, focusing his gaze back on me.
“I can see your mind’s made up. Nothing I say is gonna change it, is it?”
“You don’t have to do it,” I stated, and he grabbed my face in his hands, his lips brushing over mine as he said, “I’ll do anything for you. But I need to know you’ll be okay. I don’t want anything to hurt you.”
I leaned forward, kissing him and closing my eyes so that every one of my senses was focused on him. His taste, his touch, all of it. I wanted to drown in it.
“I don’t like feeling weak,” I whispered. “I don’t want anything to have a hold on me, except you.”
“You’re not weak.” His thumb brushed my cheeks as he kissed me gently, ghost kisses skimming over my lips. “You’re the strongest woman I know. Don’t mistake healing for weakness.”
