The Bringer

I feel like I’ve been physically hit.



I stumble backwards, tripping over a pair of James’ shoes and drop the cup. It hits the wooden floor with a loud bang, as do I.



“Oh no, Luce!” James’ distressed voice comes loudly from the kitchen.



I desperately scramble up to my feet.



He’s advancing toward me, moving pretty quickly considering he isn’t using his crutches. “It’s not what you think! She just grabbed me and kissed me! I swear I didn’t –”



“Yes, he did,” Sara callous voice addresses me. A smirk stretching right across her pallid face, it makes her look almost haunting as she casually walks down the hall behind James. He’s almost reached me by this point, his face taut with worry.



“He wanted to kiss me,” she continues. “You see James loves me. He wants to be with me.”



He turns on her. “Are you seven shades of crazy? I don’t even fucking know you anymore, let alone love you!”



For a moment she looks as though he’s just slapped her but she quickly regains composure. “James, I know you love me. You just can’t admit it to yourself”



He glares at her, eyes hard, and shakes his head. “No, Sara, I don’t love you.”



Her composure instantly disintegrates. “But, James, I love you.” There’s a low desperation in her voice, it’s uncomfortable to hear. She reaches for him, but he moves away closer to me, leaving her grabbing at air.



Anger covers her face. “You should be with me!” she spits. “Not her! It’s what your dad would have wanted!”



James’ face freezes at the mention of Max. “You need to go.” He sounds oddly composed, his tone not matching his face at all.



“No.” She stands firm. “You know he would. He’d be disappointed that you’ve got this bit of trash living in his house.” She jabs a finger at me. I recoil backwards, feeling stung.



“Sara. Go. Now.” His composure has gone, his face a mask of anger, his voice detached, cold. I can see he’s struggling to control his rage.



She shakes her head, balling her fists at her sides. “No.”



“Get the fuck out of my house!” he roars, tone savage, and I nearly jump out of my skin



He grabs her by the arm and, opening the front door, roughly shoves her out of it, ignoring her protests, then slams it loudly in her face.



He leans back against the door, chest heaving up and down, his eyes flashing anger.



I hear the sounds of Sara’s defeated heels as they click slowly away against the pavement outside.



My legs give out on me and I crumple down onto the bottom step. Leaning forward I put my head in my hands. My whole body is trembling. I don’t know what to do? What I’m supposed to do in a situation like this? I’m completely out of my depth here. I have no idea what to do with these raw emotions which are coursing through my body like a poison.



I never once imagined something could hurt as much as this.



And just like that, I’m hit again with that feeling of familiarity, that sense of déjà vu, as if I’ve felt it before in some other time, some other place. Just the same as when James first kissed me. It doesn’t make any sense.



James comes over and struggles to sit at my feet. I don’t look at him, and I don’t help him.



In the end he just kind of drops himself down to the floor with a thud.



“I didn’t kiss her back,” he says earnestly. “I swear.”



I say nothing. I just stay as I am, leant forward, head in my hands as silent tears roll down my cheeks.



“Lucyna, please.”



I look up at his imploring tone. He looks anxious and saddened. I move my eyes past him and look at the door. I’m half-expecting Sara to burst back through it at any minute.



“I know how it looked,” he says frankly, palms spread out, “but honestly it wasn’t that way at all. It just all happened so fast.”



I glance at him and he holds my gaze. “We were talking like fine and then I made the mistake of telling her that me and you are together.” He shakes his head and sighs. “And then I don’t know – it was like a switch flipped in her and she went fucking mental, started saying that she loves me, that she always has, that we were meant to be together. And then the next thing I know she was just on me, trying to bloody kiss me –”



“It looked like she succeeded to me.” Tears are dripping off my face onto my clothes.



“I didn’t kiss her.” He looks as determined as he sounds. “Christ, Lucyna, I wouldn’t do anything to risk losing you. You mean too much to me. I’m crazy about you.” He lifts his hand up to my face but I move away from him.



I see the hurt plainly in his eyes which only makes me feel worse. And, honestly, I don’t even know why I just reacted like that.



He lets his hand fall into his lap and looks down. “If I was gonna cheat on you, would I really do it whilst you were only upstairs?”



I see the logic in his words and I already know he’s telling me the truth – I knew the instant I looked into his sincere eyes.



But I just feel so confused, nothing's tying together properly. The pain is still here, not easing one iota.



He sighs disconsolately and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know what more I can say to make you –”



“I believe you.”



He looks up at me, the relief on his face palpable. He reaches for me and taking hold of my hand, gently pulls me onto his lap.



“I’m so, so sorry.” He takes my face in hands, his callous skin is rough against mine. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s never done anything like this before. It’s just not her. She’s like a different person.”



“She’s only behaving this way because she loves you,” I say, sounding oddly rational when it’s the last thing I feel at the moment. “Just give her some time and I’m sure things will be okay.”



He regards me questioningly. “How can you be like that?”



“Like what?”



“So understanding? Sara’s done nothing but treat you like shit since the first day you met her, and all you’ve ever done is be nice about her.”



I just shrug because I’m unable to say the real reason why I’m like I am is that I’ve spent many years studying human behaviour to better understand why they behave as they do. But mainly it’s because I know first hand how love can make you do crazy things, things you never thought yourself capable of. And really I’m no better than Sara is – in some ways I’m worse. Far worse. At least she’s honest, which is lot more than can be said for me.



I’m the worst kind of coward.



“You’re so great,” he says, pulling me close, burying his face into my hair, “and I’m so lucky to have you.”



His words do not make me feel better.



“This thing with Sara,” he murmurs into my hair, “I don’t want it to come between us.”



“It won’t.” I discreetly brush the tear from my face, knowing this to be the least of my problems. Sara won’t be the one to come between us, I will.



He pulls back and brushes his lips against mine, my woe momentarily disappearing, only for it to return the instant our lips part.



“How do you fancy going out for the day?” he says brightening up. “We could go into town? Do something touristy like go on the London Eye? I know I’m not fully mobile but we could do with getting out of the house, especially after that.” He nods toward the door.



I force a smile. “Sounds like a great idea.”



“Good.” He presses another kiss to my lips and I lean into him, prolonging the kiss for as long as I can, not wanting the unhappiness to return to me. I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him close, not ready to let him go just yet.



He pulls away breathless, chuckling. “We won’t be going anywhere if you kiss me like that again.” His eyes glisten.



I get up off his lap and offer my hand to him, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes. He takes my hand and I attempt to pull him up but I’m a lot smaller than he is and I nearly end up toppling onto him instead.



“I’ll take it from here,” he laughs and shuffles himself up onto the bottom step, lifts himself up to the next one and I help him up from there.



“Right, I’ll just go have a shower and shave.” He rubs his rough chin. “Then we can get off.”



I help him up the stairs and leave him by the bathroom. I turn to go back downstairs.



“Luce?” he calls, pulling me back. “You fancy getting a takeaway tonight? We could get a film, a bottle of wine and curl up on the sofa together. What do you think?”



“Sounds great,” I smile.



He smiles warmly at me, then taps his hand on the door with an air of finality and disappears into the bathroom.



I lean my back up against the wall and let the smile drop from my face.



I can’t let this go on for much longer. I have to tell him the truth. It’s the very least I owe him.



We’ll spend the day together as planned, and tonight I’ll tell him everything. I just pray that he’ll understand.



At least one upside is I don’t have to worry about how to dodge eating in front of him tonight, as he’ll soon know the real reason as to why I don’t.



But the thought doesn’t make me feel any better.



I push off the wall and head downstairs to wait for him, ignoring the tiny voice in my mind that’s nagging to be heard, desperately trying to tell me that it’s not a good idea to tell him, that no good can come of telling James that I’m not the human he believes me to be.



Chapter 14



Candour



I’m sat on the chair in living room, trying not to think about the wonderful day I’ve just spent with James, but now instead focussing on what I have to tell him.



My hands start to shake. I clasp them together.



I’m absolutely terrified but I can’t back out. I have to do this.



He might accept what I am about to tell him, accept who I am. I know it’s a long shot but it could be a possibility – a small one, but still.



Of course I’m not naive enough to think he won’t be surprised at my revelation, to say the least. But he cares for me. That has to count for something – doesn’t it?



“You ready to order this food?” I look up to see James coming into the living room with a takeaway menu in his hand. “And no fobbing me off with you're not hungry. I know you’ve eaten nothing all day, so . . .” He lifts his shoulders, his lips curving upwards.



He looks so incredibly beautiful with an expression of such happiness on his face, and he has such trust in me, trust I’ll shatter if I tell him truth.



This is too hard. I can’t do it. I’ll tell him tomorrow.



“What do you fancy having, then?” he asks whilst perusing the menu. “I was thinking we could get some starters and a couple of mains to share –”



“We need to talk.” The words are out of my mouth before I realise I’m speaking.