Mending of Broken Wounds

It's been months since I last saw him. Not like I actually have feelings for that red-headed bastard. One night of endless pleasure, and my life went downhill. My family disowned me. My friends abandoned me; even my stepmother left me to fend for myself. Boy, are they helpful people. They don’t understand what I’m going through. No one even acknowledge my existence anymore. Just because of him, my life, both personal and social, is ruined.

I’ve been standing by this lonely bus sign waiting for at least three hours now, waiting for that idiot Turk who screwed up my existence. I don’t even care if he does show up anyway. No reason to care about him now that he’s made it worse for me.

Fiddling with a clear lighter, I stick a final cigarette in my mouth and try to strike up a single flame. I haven’t really enjoyed smoking, but it relieves stress and I haven’t in a long time. Now I wish I hadn’t started. Somewhere along the line, I’ll probably die of lung cancer or something related to smoking. This was the exact place and way I met him. My mistake: suggesting a first date and staying with him for several months. If I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be in such a predicament. The very thought of it makes the taste go bad.

I can still picture him: bright aquamarine eyes, a fiery tuff of spiky hair on his head, a dark red scar on either side of his face, a sneaky smug grin; it still haunts my memory. Even his voice was heavenly. Yeah, like I care so much now.

“Got a light?” I freeze - the same voice I remember ringing in my ears. It has to be him. I glance in the direction of the sound, just to be so damn right it’s scary.

“Here, you can have it.” He takes the lighter, lighting a limp cigarette hanging from his mouth. Exhaling a puff of smoke, he leans against the sign scratching an itch behind his head. It’s an almost too familiar routine from before. I crush mine under my heel, feeling a heated emotion of concealed fury and anger begging to be let out before burning up in my chest. My hand curls into a fist at my side, shaking violently.

“So, what’s new?” His voice rings with a pleasant tone, but I’m in no mood to be friendly with this Turk.

“Not too much, Reno.” I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the harshness in my voice. “You just had to go and fuck-up my life, didn’t you?”

Reno glances in my direction confused. “Uh, I didn’t catch that.”

Within seconds, my fist collides with his face. “Don’t even start with that. You know exactly what the hell I’m talking about.” He staggers slightly, wincing from the blow and wipes blood from his mouth.

“Does that help your memory, you son of a bitch,” I snarl preparing for another blow. I throw a second punch, just to have it blocked and turned down. Reno grips my arm, glaring into my eyes.

“My memory’s just fine, Andréa. Thanks for asking.”

“Don’t touch me.” I snap irritably. His hold simply tightens rather than loosens.

“Not happening. Where the hell have you been?”

I return the same look of anger. “Why do you even care? You’re the one who fucking left me.”

“What a load of bullshit. Since when has that happened? You’re the one who walked.” I read a look of pity in his eyes. He wants me back. It figures. Since when have I fallen for that? Never. Not me.

“Don’t think you’re gonna get me back by using that damn sympathy crap.” A part of me I keep hidden in the past begs me to stop, but I don’t listen. My free hand slaps his face, releasing his hold. Twisting from his reach, I pull out a switchblade. I grab Reno by the throat, shoving him into the pavement, and force the blade through his shoulder, trying to keep him from moving.

“What a slime-ball you are,” I whisper in his ear harshly, violently turning it in an almost complete circle. “You deserve this for screwing my life.”

One mistake on my part was assuming a Turk would fall for this so easily. Reno, unlike the other boyfriends I’ve had, never falls into anything unless he allows himself to. It drives me insane. He manages to get up, jerking out the blade as blood stains his shirt. “You screwed your own life, girl. Give me one good reason,” he holds both my arms in a vice-like grip, “why you’re acting like this.”

“Why?! Why am I like this?!” I literally spit out the words. “You’re the reason why, Reno. Thanks to you, I don’t have a family or friends I can trust anymore.” My eyes water, hot with tears of bitter anger and anguish. The cold realization hits me hard, burning up my insides where my heart resides. “You don’t understand how I feel. You’ve never lost anyone close.”

Reno just stares at me, guilt shadowing the brightness of his eyes. “Andréa, I didn’t-” His voice falls silent. A mirror of the same emotions of loneliness in his face reflects my own. His grip loosens, both hands falling to his sides as he glances at the ground. “. . . I thought I’d lost you for good, but I-”

“You thought wrong, Reno,” I snap angrily. He just stands there, trying to hold back something inside, without showing it. I turn to leave the red-haired Turk, but I stop suddenly. I don’t want to be his girlfriend as badly as before. I don’t have anywhere else to turn. If only this hadn’t happened. I don’t know why, but I still have some compassion for him. Compassion. A feeling I thought had died off with the love I once held for Reno. “Why do you even still care?”

Reno glances up, gazing at me. His aquamarine eyes show even more than simply remorse and regret: I feel sick just looking at him. Like being struck down so hard and fast you wouldn’t know what hit you until afterwards. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I still . . .” His voice trails off, making me cringe.

Shaking my head, I step back, confused. “What are you saying, Reno?"

“I don’t know how to say this.” He looks away, staring at the ground. “It’s just . . .”

“Reno, come on; just tell me.” I can’t believe I actually want to hear this. I always fall for this crap no matter who or whatever it is. His tone reminds me of my horrid memory of waking in the hospital hooked up to an IV and glancing up to see him holding my hand. That was when I had taken more than enough of the drug heroin to gain a big high, just because I got fooled by the dealer I bought it from. At that time I was living with Reno, but he had no idea I was taking it. Eventually, I ended up passed out half-dead on the floor of the apartment the moment he stepped in. If it he hadn’t found me, I’d probably not be here now. So I guess I don’t really hate him that much.

“Andréa, I guess I still . . .” Reno swallows hard, keeping his gaze fixed on me, unable to speak. He gently strokes my face, brushing several bangs from over my eyes. I find I can’t move, or better yet, I don’t want to move. The same scared look in his aquamarine eyes from before.

“Just say it,” I respond not from anger, but from guilt and fear. He stops me before I can speak. Simply caught off guard with a kiss. My eyes close, feeling the familiar taste of his lips. I grasp a lock of his hair, my hand sliding down the side of his face. The feeling of ice sliding on bare skin; standing unscathed while inside high reaching flames of fire; cold winds blowing off the ocean’s waves. Even the warm feeling of human contact.

He pulls away, breaking the kiss. I place a hand against my lips, the feeling still lingering. Glancing at him, I see a single tear fall down his face. No wonder he couldn’t say it aloud. Even though I left him, Reno still loves me. It’s as if we haven’t separated.

A glass shield inside me, holding all the emotions I had then and now, shatters into nothing. The emotions of false hatred and wrongly directed anger mold to the neutralizing feeling of guilt as I brush the tear away. My life feels like a miniscule scribble on a scrap of crumpled paper trashed with the rest of the world’s garbage that still lies around, waiting and wishing and, if given the chance, to disappear from the face of the earth. A small speck in the black sky hidden by the stars brightening up the night.

A glass shard still hangs near my heart, forcing out painful feelings from the past I’ve tried so hard to freeze away until I die. Remorse and regret. Extreme guilt tied along with others I don’t even remember I had, even the desire for something that was gone for so long. Melancholy, clouded memories of the fight we had last August. Harsh words spoken and never replaced, stinging my ears, full of false anger, until I simply walked from the apartment. Before I found myself late for the month.

Brushing the tear from his face, I feel a sharp chill run down my spine. I don’t want to tell him, but I have no choice. “Reno, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I feel like this is all my fault.” Tears stream down my face as I hold back sobs.

“Andréa,” Reno murmurs, as he gently strokes my cheek, brushing some of the tears away. My hand grips his arm, as I bury my face into his shoulder. I just lose all self-control, unable to hold anymore sobs. For some reason, I feel safe in his arms. It’s kind of strange, as if nothing had happened between us.

“Don’t blame yourself. This is more my fault than yours.”

I glance up at him miserably. “How can you say that? I’m one who slept with you. It’s my fault for even getting involved.” Another cold realization, so painful I start sobbing again. I can’t believe how vulnerable I’ve become. I’ve become some kind of weak creature unable to do anything without getting emotionally scarred.

Reno lifts my tear-stained face. As he gazes into my eyes, I see something clouded by guilt overshadowing the normal brightness in his. A severe lack of hope perhaps, or something worse. Then I see it: past hopeless thoughts of wasting away from the day we separated. He never had that look before. Something had changed, but it wasn’t for the better.

I remember those thoughts, and I think he and I had felt the same way in the past. Contemplations of suicide forms: cutting the wrists; holding a gun in your mouth, hoping the bullet would go through the skull; swallowing poison- cyanide or some kind of deadly form. Shuddering, I look away. I can’t stand seeing that anymore, for fear I might scream aloud what I had tried to do.

“Why did you come back?” Reno asks gently brushing several remaining tears. “I got your message yesterday. What was so important that you couldn’t say it then?” I should have figured he would listen to his phone messages.

“Reno, I can’t stand being alone. You know that.” Of course he knows. I was living with him for the longest time. This is so hard to say, but I can’t word it right. A sharp pain on the inside starts throbbing and I can’t stop myself from saying it.

“I’m pregnant.” Reno just stares at me dumbfounded.

“What?” I hear his voice tremble slightly as I glance at the ground. “Th-That can’t be.”

“Think about it, Reno. How else could this have happened?”

“Damn it.” He shakes his head unbelievingly. “I knew what you meant earlier by saying it was important, but why couldn’t you’ve told me this on the phone?”

“Reno, I couldn’t say it with my family standing near. You know how my parents would react.” He nods, knowing how harsh of a reaction I had gotten from both my mother and father. My step-mother was another story. She literally threw me out of the house and said wasn’t part of her family since I was with a guy who I’d slept with. Both Reno and I wanted a more physical relationship as well as loving and understanding. I swear, some parents aren’t so forgiving. They didn’t understand how much in love I was with him then. And maybe perhaps still.

He sighs. “So, what happens now?”

“I don’t know. Don’t tell me I have to take care of this baby by myself.”

“I won’t do that to you, Andréa. It’s just . . .” Reno runs his hand through his hair nervously, sighing. “There’s just no way that I-“

“Reno, it’s your kid,” I retort. “What do you think happens during sex? Just sexual pleasure?”

“I can’t be a father. I don’t know shit about parenting.” He glances at me, brushing several loose strands behind my ear. “I wouldn’t be much of a good role model either, since I’m either at a bar getting intoxicated or getting my ass beaten by whomever Shinra wants me to take care of.” Reno’s got a valid point. Being a Turk, he sure has a tough job. Most of the time, he has to deal with those who hate Shinra and rebel against them. He hates it, but he hasn’t got much of a choice.

Suddenly, I notice how pale he looks. The bright colors I remember seeing are gone. Dark circles outline his eyes, accenting his aquamarine eyes. Placing a hand against his face, he feels warm, but something still isn’t right. “Are you feeling okay?”

Reno drops his gaze once again. “Andréa, I’ve been torturing myself over and over since you left. It was too much of a pain to bear, so I kept going out night after night, drinking so much until I passed out.” He shudders slightly as I grip his arm. “Every night was the same. I drank to forget it all, the aching pain I got from this mess.” I swallow hard, as his voice cracks. Taking a deep breath, he starts again.

“Eventually, I woke in the hospital, sick as a dog from all the heavy drinking. I got a warning from the doctor that if I kept this up, then I’d probably die from it. So, when I was released, I went back to the other comfort I had besides alcohol.” I shake my head, gripping his shoulder. He had always kept some hidden stash of drugs in the apartment. I once tried to find it, but I gave up.

“I never meant what I said. I didn’t realize you’d take it so seriously,” I respond sadly.

“I know you didn’t, Andréa.”

“Is there anyway we can fix this?” I wait for his answer. I’d always known Reno was suicidal, but I had no idea that he would actually consider ending his life. I had scorned him for being a Turk, calling him several names I now regret: a drunk, a jackass, a bastard, a womanizer, or something worse I can’t remember very well.

He doesn’t seem to remember most of it, though. “If you can give me a second chance, then I guess we can.” Kissing my lips, he gives me a hopeful look. “You always said it’s better to forgive and forget than hold a grudge against someone.”
I
give a faint smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?” He nods. “And, you actually believe that?” He’s changed since the fight. It’s a good change, fortunately.

“I guess so, Anna,” Reno answers confidently. My old nickname. He never forgot. Gently, he brushes my cheek. The same sneaky grin I remember from when we had started dating. I guess I won’t have to find someone to stay with who doesn’t like me. Until I figure out what I’m gonna do about what I have inside me, I’ll stay with Reno. Fortunately, we’ll start where we left