His face was pale, but there was no abhorrent look of pity—more like an expression of understanding and empathy. So, I took a deep breath and braced myself so I could continue on.
“My stepmother, she ignored me. Oh, God…the nasty things she would say to bring me down. She knew he wouldn’t stop her; he encouraged her. Then there was Adam…” I paused, but wasn’t sure I could find the words to describe him. I shivered as I envisioned him, sneering at me. My whole body shook with violent vibrations.
“He took high advantage of being able to say and do whatever he wanted. He hated it when I moved in, hated his beloved stepfather bringing him a sister, and made it his personal mission to make me the most alienated and bullied kid in school. I kept my head down, my mouth shut, and prayed for someone to see me. For someone to love me… I still don’t know why I never killed myself. I thought about it, a lot.”
My voice was cracking at the end; I couldn’t take anymore. It felt like my chest had been cut open, and my worthless self had been laid bare for Nathan to see, to dissect, and then to abandon as a lost cause. I wouldn’t blame him, because everything he said was true. I was hollow, nothing but emptiness. I so craved the love I had been denied and the chance to love in return. Words could not express how deeply I craved the feeling of being wanted.
Nathan did that. He made me feel what I hadn’t ever felt before: wanted, desired, beautiful, sexy. To him, I was all of those. He made me start to think all I’d been led to believe was a lie. He was filling the void. I would give him anything he wanted. It was twisted and unhealthy, but I didn’t care. My feelings for him were more than I had ever felt for anyone in my life.
Sobs wracked my body, my fists losing their momentum. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me to him, holding me up.
His fingers stroked my hair, calming me. “You’re dead inside, just like me.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “You have very strong emotions, violent almost.”
He laughed. It was almost maniacal. “You don’t get it.” He pulled back to look at me, his gaze serious and intense. My muscles tensed in response. “I wish I was dead.” I stared up at him in disbelief. “I wish the paramedics had taken five more minutes to get there.”
Without thought, my hand reached up and connected with his cheek. It was as involuntary as him grabbing my wrist. I couldn’t stand the mere thought of him not being there with me. His head snapped back to face me. He wasn’t angry, but stunned instead. Tears slid down my cheeks.
“Please, don’t leave me,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“I wish the battery on the defibrillator had been out,” he continued on; the emotion gone from his face and voice. “That way they wouldn’t have been able to restart my heart. Because then I wouldn’t feel dead inside, in pain daily. Because I wouldn’t be here, hurting you.”
He paused in thought for a moment, probably asking himself how much he could give.
“I’m angry because I’m alive. My heart, my soul…they’re gone, dead, but my body remains. This is my purgatory.”
Tears were streaming down my face even faster. My fists picked up their beating against his chest.
“No, no, no, no! Please, please, Nathan… I can’t fathom… I need you. You make… I’m falling… Please, please, please.” I begged and pleaded over and over again. For what, I didn’t even know; for him to stay with me, for him to live, for him to never wish to be dead and to be with me always. I needed him to live.
I couldn’t even make out what I was saying, but I hoped he understood the meaning. I was falling, hard, for him. My chest constricted, and I almost doubled over from the strain. The feeling was so foreign I didn’t know what to do.
His arms wrapped tighter around me in an attempt to contain me, but I pulled back. My hands smacked his away, hitting his chest.
“No!” I screamed, pushing him away.