Chapter 66

"How could you not? I'm right here," I smiled weakly, seeking his low look with mine and feeling like a tremendous hypocrite, phony, cheater, and meddler, but not letting it all show. Steve laughed for a few seconds, but soon he was back to his pain face, and I unconsciously imitated him. That night was going to be a long one for him, poor guy.

We lay in bed for another two hours, watching TV and talking, having to content ourselves only with the bodily contact of holding hands. For the first time in my life, time with Steve seemed slow, slow, almost boring. And when he finally fell heavily asleep, like a child tired of all the mischief he had done during the day, I found myself not knowing what to do. And totally sleep-deprived.

Suddenly, a strange euphoria took over me, like an animal clawing its way into my chest and declaring territory. An uncontrollable anxiety gave me the sensation that every part of me was shaking with agony, and the air couldn't find room in my lungs, making me feel dizzy. I instinctively looked at the clock, feeling suffocated: 1:19. It was already late and all I should do was lie down and try to sleep. But my body was begging to get out of there.

I crawled out of bed, and fortunately, Steve remained motionless. I went downstairs, feeling my legs shaking, and pinned my hair up anyway, intending to cool my back. Stupid anxiety shit that made me break out in a cold sweat. I opened the refrigerator and filled a glass with water, dissolving a pinch of sugar in it and swallowing its entire contents in less than five seconds. Sugar water didn't usually work for me, but I had to try everything.

The seconds slowly built up into minutes, and sleep simply refused to come. I found myself wandering around the living room furniture, my eyes fixed somewhere on the floor and my mind lost in God knows what thoughts. When I looked at the kitchen clock, it was already 2:37, and I felt as if I had just awakened from the most invigorating sleep of my life. I huffed, frustrated with my inexplicable insomnia, and slumped on the couch, defeated. I looked distractedly out the living room window, and when I finally assimilated what I saw, I almost jumped with fright: headlights were rapidly approaching the house, announcing the arrival of a car. My heart almost stopped near my brain, such was my fright, just as it was simply impossible not to think of one of the only people who would pass through the street at that time of night.

Before I knew what I was doing, I saw that I was standing up, and walking briskly towards the door of the house. As much as my conscience warned me about the folly I was committing, my legs had taken on a life of their own and refused to obey it. I opened the door, panting, and all I saw was the empty street and Steve's car parked, exactly as it had been since we had arrived. I approached the street, looking for the headlights that I swore I saw, but there was absolutely nothing that could have emitted any kind of light out there. I frowned, beginning to get really scared of my imagination, and walked into the house, sitting back down on the couch. Great, not only was I an adulteress, but I was going crazy.

Another half hour of insomnia passed, and I sarcastically celebrated the arrival of three o'clock in the morning, with almost all my fingernails bit to the bone. The anxiety that had taken over me insisted on intensifying with every second, and no matter how much I asked myself the reason for it, nothing came to mind. Well... At least nothing that I found pleasant. And just to help me even more, after my strange vision, my thoughts couldn't stray from Nicholas, probably because of the memory that the illusory headlights had resurrected.

And since my head always managed to take the worst paths, it was not content to focus its energies only on Nicholas, as bad as that already was. As if I wasn't already frustrated enough to be thinking about him, a question suddenly arose from the tangle of thoughts forming within it, alarming my heart even more and causing the strange cold sweat that broke out on my forehead to intensify.

Would he really come tonight?

As my brain processed the complexity of that question, I started to blink more than usual, and my fingers couldn't leave the middle of my hair, buried between its locks in a sign of desperation. Why the hell did I have to be so weak? Why couldn't I just keep quiet and keep my weaknesses to myself?

Why did I have to ask if he would come back? All I had done was to create false hope for him that I might be interested in a repeat performance of the night before! And that was definitely all I did not want!

Or at least, everything I was desperately pretending not to want.

At that moment I realized how ridiculous and immature I was being in this situation. My body and my mind were giving clear signals that not thinking about Nicholas was becoming increasingly impossible, but a part of me, the rational part, still refused to let go, trying to fight my impulses uselessly. It wouldn't do any good to keep repeating to myself that I was fine and that this was just insomnia for no reason, when I knew exactly the reason for my anxiety. Unfortunately, I had to accept that I still didn't have enough strength to remove Nicholas's shadow from my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to stifle the strange power he had over me. It was clear that he had something that completely disarmed me, doping my conscience and bringing out my worst instincts.

I let out all the air tensely trapped in my lungs, closing my eyes and laying my head on the back of the sofa. A humorless smile formed on my face, expressing my frustration with myself. I was destined to be weak for the rest of my life. It was as if I would never be able to overcome any obstacle that came my way, only to bow before it and let it change my life, for better or for worse.

Weakness was my burden. And Nicholas was living proof of this. He knew very well that this was my weak point, that I was easy prey compared to his invincible attack power, and as if this was not enough, he still used all his tricks to keep me hypnotized. Abducted.

I stared at the ceiling, totally inert, and instead of the dull gray, Nicholas's discreet smile as he left the night before came into my field of vision. Was this really an answer, or just another one of my illusions?

No... He could not do this to me. He wouldn't be able to. I knew he would come. He wouldn't have the courage to keep me waiting.

I remained unconsciously immersed in thought for a time that seemed incalculable, and in one of my brief lucid moments, I looked at the clock: half past three. My feet were pounding against the cold floor of the room, restless as were my hands, which were gripping the hem of my shirt tightly. My breathing was totally out of rhythm, revealing all the nervousness that was devouring me, and my eyes traveled over every visible inch of the window, until, in a thoughtless move, they came across a solution to my problem that had been there since the beginning, right under my nose: the telephone.

You know what? If this was already a decided battle, why keep fighting? Fuck my pride.

I stood up in one leap and ran to the phone, almost knocking it over as I pulled it out of its cradle, so shaky were my hands. I looked at the buttons hopefully, and remembered that in order to call him, I needed his number. I thought for a moment, and soon found the way out: Steve's cell phone.

I dropped the phone on the base anyway, running awkwardly towards the stairs to get Steve's phone. On the third step, I almost slipped, and had to brace myself on my hands to avoid hitting the ground. When I was two steps away from the second floor, a buzzing sound came to my ears, breaking the sepulchral silence. I froze where I was, turning my head in the direction of the sound with frightening rapidity. I knew I was disheveled, dark circles under my eyes, and pale, but now there was no more time to fix myself.

He was here.