***"Lights will guide you home***
***And ignite your bones***
***And I will try to fix you." - Coldplay***
***Holden Young***
I couldn’t say I was fine after hearing what I had been expecting from Alissa. When Michael gave me those documents, all I saw was a girl who needed help: a reformatory, and run-ins with the police. Alissa had been through a lot, but I never asked why.
I automatically blamed everything on her parents, without even questioning why, after that night, she never spoke to me again.
I chased after her like a madman. Her indifference killed me, but I thought I had done something wrong. I was afraid she might have felt used or even ashamed because we’d been caught right after being together for the first time.
I considered countless possibilities in my head, except that my parents might have been involved in her disappearance.
She said no one missed her. That wasn’t entirely true, because I did. I missed her for eight years. But it hurt to admit that no one questioned her disappearance.
And now we were there, a dense silence between us. That pause in space, like a collective breath, unhurried to be broken. I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, elbows resting on my knees, hands clasped as if trying to hold myself in place. As if letting my fingers separate would make me sink into the void.
I didn’t look at Alissa; I couldn’t for a few minutes. I knew she was embarrassed; it was evident in her expression. I just didn’t understand why—after all, none of it was her fault.
I saw her standing near the window, the faint light’s reflection softly illuminating her face. I knew she was seeing some inconvenient flashes, because I could sense them.
“I should give you some space,” my voice came out softer than I intended. It was almost an apology for not knowing how to act. I didn’t want to pressure her, and I knew she was already drowning in her perceptions.
She turned to me, looking somewhat surprised. I guess I’m not the kind of person who’s good at giving someone space, the kind who backs off—that much was clear.
But today… today, I couldn’t be that kind of person.
“Holden, I…” she began to speak, but the words got lost.
“You don’t need to explain, Ali.” I tried to make everything lighter. “I just don’t want to pressure you. I think you’ve already been through enough.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. I could see she was trying to process the words, or maybe she didn’t want to process anything. I get it—more than she imagines.
“No, that’s not it. You shouldn’t leave.” She gestured toward the window.
The street was full of paparazzi. Apparently, I’m terrible at shaking them off, but this is the first time I’ve had to deal with these people following me around like dementors.
“They’re out there. They’re waiting for you, Holden. And if you leave now, it’ll be a circus,” the concern in her voice was evident.
“I don’t care about them.”
“But I do.” I didn’t care about them; I never had. But with her… with her, it was different. I didn’t want her dragged into this again.
I didn’t want her to feel the weight of the world throwing itself onto her shoulders.
“I don’t want my name in more headlines, Holden. I already have to deal with people thinking I tried to kill myself by throwing myself in front of your car.” I laughed, and her annihilating look almost managed to hit me.
She was right, of course. That was ridiculous. But it seemed so small compared to what was really happening to her. Alissa wouldn’t admit if she needed help. I don’t know how much she had been affected by everything that had happened, but I simply couldn’t ignore it and not revisit the subject.
“So, what are you going to do now?” I asked, trying to break the tension, anything to lighten the heavy atmosphere surrounding us.
“I’ll try to get a job.” She shrugged. And before I could offer any help, I saw her hand lift against my face, stopping a few inches away, signaling for me to shut up.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked. It was clear in my gaze—I wouldn’t easily forget what she had said.
“You need to eat something,” I said, trying to bring some levity to the moment. But there was no other response besides a resounding no.
She let out a sigh, still looking out the window.
“I’m hungry, but… I can’t go out, right?” The irony in her voice was as sharp as a blade.
“Not planning to make a grand entrance for the paparazzi?” I asked, moving toward the kitchen.
She laughed, a short, dry sound.
“Of course. I’ll perform. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a contract with the record label where you work?” She turned her face to me, and there was something almost playful in the sparkle of her eyes.
I shook my head, opening the fridge. There wasn’t much in there. A suspicious-looking container, an almost empty bag of milk, and a lone lemon well past its prime.
“Alissa, this is a desert. How do you survive?” I teased, looking at her.
“Oh, I forgot to go grocery shopping after the hit-and-run.” She replied, the casual tone pulling a laugh out of me.
“Funny.” I shot back, going back to rummaging. I found a pack of pasta in one of the cabinets and a can of tomato sauce.
“Looks like we’re having dinner,” I announced, holding up the items as if they were some kind of prize.
“You’re going to cook?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t underestimate my talents,” I replied, already filling a pot with water.
She sat on the sofa, watching me with that curious look she always had as if waiting for me to say something stupid so she could knock me down with a sarcastic response.
While waiting for the water to boil, I couldn’t help it. I looked at her arms. The sleeves of the sweater she was wearing were pulled up, and the scars were visible now. Marks that seemed to tell a dark story.
“Alissa…” My voice came out before I could think. She looked at me, confused.
“What is it?”
“My family...” I stopped, swallowing hard. “My family caused this to you.”
I pointed to her arms and immediately regretted saying anything. I saw her face close off, and deep down, I knew I had touched on something she wanted to keep buried.
She averted her gaze, her eyes fixed on the table.
“No, technically not.” She replied in a low voice. “I think they thought a reformatory was like a summer camp for rebellious teenagers.”
Her laugh held no trace of joy, and something inside me shattered hearing that.
“That was the guard’s doing. He was new. A sadist with the girls, but what he reked was watching us naked while we showered.”
The lump in my throat became so large I could barely breathe. I looked away, feeling nausea rise within me.
“I’m so sorry. For everything.” I took a step toward her, my eyes fixed on hers, which now seemed distant. “I can help you. I can try… to make your life lighter, and give you psychological support. It won’t erase what happened, heavens, how could it? But it might help you have a more peaceful life.”
She looked at me with a mix of confusion and exhaustion.
“What are you suggesting, Holden?” she asked, almost in a whisper. “Don’t you think this is too much? I mean, I know it’s not your fault, but knowing that your family sent me to that place, that made me be tortured... it’s too much for you too.”
I swallowed hard, lowering my head. Shame weighed on every fiber of my being.
“I know,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “And I’ll deal with it in my way. But don’t think I’ll leave and won’t face this, Alissa. I’ll stay here.”
She looked at me as if I’d said something absurd.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” I simply replied.
The sound of boiling water snapped me out of the trance. I returned to the kitchen, stirring the pasta with a wooden spoon, but my thoughts were still on her, on everything she had just told me.
“Holden, you’re overdoing the salt.” Her voice made me glance over my shoulder.
“You want to do it?” I asked, challenging her with a smile.
“Not at all.” She replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the kitchen wall. “You’re impossible.”
“And you like it.” I retorted, seeing a smile that made me forget the world’s problems.
I scooped a little sauce with a spoon and turned to her.
“Taste.”
She hesitated but eventually accepted, holding my hand to steady the spoon. Her touch was warm, familiar, but new. We were different now.
When she tasted it, our eyes met, and for a second, the world stopped within those blue eyes.
“It’s good.” She said finally, her voice soft.
“Of course, it is,” I replied, trying to keep my thoughts from forming the way they were trying to. Alissa looked beautiful, as always. But this wasn’t the time for my attraction to take over.
But the truth was that nothing between me and Alissa was ever easy, and I think that’s what kept me hooked. I liked the way she challenged me. I liked how she was provocative and made me lose my bearings with just a look and her sharp tongue.
I wasn’t willing to let what I felt near her fade away. Alissa would still be mine, and I’d wait another eight years to have her again.