and bit into it. No sooner had she swallowed it, came the hurl. She barely made it to the kitchen sink.
James was surprised, but he sprang into action quickly running towards her. He held her hair back as she hurled once more. She reached for the tap and turned on cold water in order to rinse her mouth and wash away the foamy mess. She tugged her hair from his hand and went upstairs. He followed.
She brushed and gargled with mouth wash before going back into the bedroom where he was waiting.
“Satisfied?” she asked.
“What kind of sadistic person do you think I am? Why would I be happy you are having some discomfort? How long has this been going on?”
“The queasiness started about a week ago, but this is the first time I’ve actually thrown up,” she said.
“Willow,” he sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “For god’s sake come and live with me. You can have your separate quarters but I worry about you being here alone.”
“I’m never living in your house again,” she said.
“Then let’s buy a new house together. Whatever you want, wherever you want,” he said. “I hate that you cannot see what this is doing to me.”
“Please do not make this about you,” she said. “You threw me out of your house in the middle of the night.”
“I already explained to you that I did not know it was you. I mean I knew it was you, but I did not. I cannot explain it any other way.”
“You never told me that,” she said. “And what is that supposed to mean, anyway.”
“I explained it in the letter I left on your car. I was having a nightmare and I knew you called me, but when I got up, it was not you. I knew it was you, but it wasn’t.”
Willow had never read the note. She remembered balling it up and shoving it in the pocket of her sweatshirt. She hadn’t bothered to read it once she’d come in the house. She ran downstairs to her laundry room. She might have dropped it in her lint bin when she did the laundry.
James was right behind her. He watched as she pulled the crumpled note from a box.
She never read it. She unfurled the paper and brought it into the kitchen.
My dearest Will, I know the events of the last 24 hours may seem quite strange to you. They are strange to me, too. I tried to keep you from the monster inside, but the closer I got to you, the more he asserted himself. It was not I who chased you away last night, it was him. I do not know how to adequately describe him in words or his power over me. I thought I had locked him away, sealed him for good in the far corners of my mind, but it seems he, too. has fallen in love with you and hates that it is me that you love, not him. There is no excuse for my behavior. I knew it was you standing in the hallway, but I did not see you until it was too late. Please forgive me. If this makes no sense to you, image how it feels to me. Love J.
“Split personality?” she asked with a skeptical note.
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s a little different than that.”
“Do you have post traumatic stress disorder?”
“I don’t know. I spent a year wandering the deserts before I remember who I was and when I got back here, I spent another year putting those years behind me. I know what is real. I knew it was you. I absolutely knew it, but I, I, I cannot quite explain it better than that.”
“You should see someone about it” she said.
“I was,” he said. “I was seeing you.”
“I’m not a doctor,” she said.
“The nightmares only started after I decided I wanted to marry you. I knew I had to share at least some of what happened with you. After all, you had shared your darkest secret with me. It’s just every time I revisit the torture and the pain, there remains nothing but hate.”
“I didn’t ask you to go back for me,” she said. “I didn’t even know if I wanted you to go back at all. I could have waited a life-time and not have asked you to relive those years. You have no idea how I felt when I saw your scars. I could feel your pain