Torn Satin

* There is a story behind this piece but I am not going to post the background that I created for it. I would rather you just read it and came to your own conclusions. I feel, rightly or wrongly, that the individual moment is more important than the story it sits in. *

I remembered the flash in my eyes, the sickening feeling as I lost my spot and my balance deserted me. My foot slipping out from under me, the satin giving me no purchase. The adrenaline rush and the pit in my stomach as I got ready to hit the ground. The crunch of my ankle as it twisted awkwardly and my inadvertent gasp at the pain. Then I remembered rough hands around my waist pulling me into a warm body and tense arms lifting me off my feet. Not letting me fall. I remembered the worry in his eyes as he set me down backstage. Cool hands feeling for damage. The anger in his voice and in his face as he stormed out after the “fucking idiot with the bloody camera”. I remembered his fingers on his face and his sincere voice, “I will always catch you.”

Shuddering I remembered jealous eyes, raised voices, different arms around me taking me back to a place I had once called home. The love that had turned sour, the fear and the helplessness. The self loathing, my weakness, the pain. The sudden feeling of loss and then the freedom. The days of doing nothing, of sitting trying to find a way to numb the pain, the crushing emptiness. The sinking realisation that everything had been based on a lie.

God, I was a mess and now, like never before, I needed someone to catch me. I knew who I wanted but I felt so foolish and ashamed to go to him. I had never appreciated him when he had been there for me and in turning away from him I had let myself be caught up in a situation that had nearly broken me. All I could hope was that he would forgive me. I had nowhere else to go so I had to least try. There was nothing else I could do.

And so, I found myself, at 3am on the doorstep of someone I hadn't spoken to in two months. It took me a full hour to knock, I was that scared to swallow my pride and ask for help. Tired and freezing with little dots flashing across my vision I lay against the door frame, silently begging him to be in. As he opened the door his eyes flashed wide in surprise and he opened his mouth to say something which I never heard. Relief washed through me and a part of me knew that I was safe. The adrenaline and fear that had kept me going for the past week drained out of me, the lack of sleep caught up with me, my legs turned to lead and I blacked out, slumping forward onto him.

I came to a lot later with a pounding headache, confused and groggy, in someone else's bed. It took a while for the events of the previous night to come back to me. Luke staring at me in the darkness, shock written across his face. I vaguely remembered his arms around me, carrying me in and the comforting familiarity of his smell and feel. I wasn't regretting my decision yet. Sitting up I had to wait for my head to stop spinning before I could drag myself into a standing position. As I stood I was suddenly awkwardly aware that all I was wearing was my underwear. Then I remembered the state of the clothes that I had been in last night and appreciated their removal. The guy had seen me in a lot less before in the wings anyway.

The sight that greets me in the mirror was rather grim. I have gone way past the china doll complexion to something more corpse-like. This is nicely complimented by the vivid purple circles around my eyes and the various rainbow coloured bruises that dot my limbs. I had never been the slimmest dancer but now I have gone far past elegant and lean to gaunt. I can almost count my ribs and I have much too much hip bone, I really need to do something about that. My hair is disgusting and I smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Not attractive. Poking my head through a door in the corner of the bedroom I find a bathroom with clean towels and a proper shower. After half an hour under scalding water I emerge, smelling of Old Spice shampoo and feeling almost clean. I gulp a few mouthfuls of water from the tap and swig some mouthwash. Pushing the damp hair out of my face I stare into my unfamiliar eyes. Turning away I find one of his shirts and a hoodie I remember him wearing on a seat. Pulling them on I find they fall to mid thigh, which is at least better than underwear.

Feeling a little more human, I creep down the hall, peering into empty rooms as I go. I'm not really sure that I'm ready to talk but I can't just hide away, I need to explain myself. I find him in the living room, a book on his lap, glasses askew, fingers rubbing his temples. My chest tightens a little, I have missed him so much. He hears me come into the room and, pushing his hair out of his eyes, turns to look at me. His eyes run up and down me, no doubt taking in the state I am in and I find myself incredibly glad that I have the cover of the hoodie.

“Hey you,” he smiles slightly but I can see the worry it hides.

“Hey...” My voice is quiet and shaky, I feel incredibly exposed standing alone in the doorway.

He shifts a pile of papers from next to him and I sit down nervously, legs tucked under me – a fight-or-flight habit which I had never got out of. I have absolutely no idea what to say to him, how to explain everything, how to tell him why I came to him. He reaches out and takes my hands, looking straight at me and I have to avert my eyes. It's strange how uncomfortable I feel.

“Alice?” His voice is soft and worried and brings back so many memories. A few weeks ago I had known him better than myself. We had been able to communicate without words, to feel the others emotions through their movements. We had rehearsed in next to nothing, our hands had been all over each other, we had been as one. Now I feel like a child next to him.

“Luke... I'm sorry Luke... I don't know what I'm doing here but I didn't have anywhere else to go.”

“It's okay A, I just want you to be allright. I haven't seen you in months though. I was worried for you, where did you go? What happened?” There is hurt in his voice, to him I had simply walked away without looking back. He was right, a part of me had. “Last night, when you... I didn't know what to think A. God, I even looked for needle marks, I checked your wrists. I shouldn't have had to do that A. What happened to you?”

Shivering, the scratch of a needle on my skin came back to me. The pale metal against the blue of my veins, the single drop of blood. I hadn't gone through with it. Thankfully some sense of self-preservation had made me walk away. I had come frighteningly close though.

“Shit... I know, Luke, I know... I'm sorry.”

I tilt my chin up again and I see the sadness and concern in his eyes. It is all too much. Something in me breaks. I feel whatever it was that was holding me together crumble and then I'm shattering into pieces. I can't breathe as the tears come and the sobs choke me. His arms wrap around me and pull me into his chest and I clutch at them like I'm drowning. That's what it feels like. It's all I can do to gasp in the air as I cling to him. Leaning against his chest I listen to the steady beat of his heart, trying to let it ground me as everything that I haven't been letting myself deal with consumes me. Luke doesn't push me away and just keeps me close, gently running his hands through my hair. I can't stop and as my wracking breaths continue, my hands still clutching at his arms, he lifts me up like a child. Cradling me in his arms he carries me back to the bedroom.

He places me down on the bed and pulls the sheets over me, then, just as I am consumed with the fear that he is going to leave me, he lies down beside me. He fits himself around me, pulling me tight against him and for the first time in weeks I feel safe. He doesn't say anything, he just holds me tight. Eventually, I no longer feel like I'm being crushed from the inside out and the crying stops. I am exhausted and empty but somehow feel better. I can feel his chest moving against my back and I slow my breathing to match. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again. It is a reassuring process and after a while I begin to feel normal again. I roll over in his arms until we are face to face.

“You okay, A?”

I nod slowly, the catharsis of crying had helped.

“I didn't mean to make you cry A. I'm sorry.” He brushes his fingers ever so lightly across my cheek and a shiver runs down my spine. “I need you to talk to me though, A. I can't help you if you don't. I want to help you. Please, A. Let me help you?”

He was asking me to let him help me. Here was the man who had always been there for me. Who had never asked anything in return. Who had watched me with another man without ever complaining. Who I had walked away from. Whose house I had turned up at in the middle of the night, completely out of the blue. Without me even asking for it, he was offering his help. I had been such a fool before.

“It's not your fault Luke. And thank you... I didn't know who else to go to...” I looked away for a minute as I remembered the loneliness and the desperation of the night before. “You once told me that you would always catch me. I was falling and I hoped that you would be able to forgive me enough to stay true to your word.”

“I meant what I said A. I will always be there for you.” I knew that despite everything he meant every word. It was like someone had lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders, but also like being punched in the stomach for being so stupid before.

“Luke...” I was suddenly very aware of how close he was to me and when I looked into his eyes I wanted to fall into their green depths. More than anything I wanted to feel something other than the emptiness eating away inside me. Gently I lifted my fingers up and brushed them across his lips. He tensed suddenly but didn't pull away.

“A?” There was confusion in his voice but I could hear the desire there too.

I sit up and pull the covers off me, slipping off the hoodie and the shirt. Then I lie back down against him so that we are both under the sheets with only thin fabric of his t-shirt between our bodies.

“If you let me, I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago,” I murmur as I lean in to kiss him. As our lips meet I feel his body go rigid but he doesn't pull away from me. I taste salt on my lips and I don't even know whose tears they are anymore. I pull away to take his t-shirt off of him and the he pushes me back onto the bed, his skin warm against mine. I run my hands over his chest, down his arms, feeling a body that I used to know like my own. His own hands slide across me, cool and reassuring. His fingers play over my ribs, my hips, accepting my flaws. Then he kisses the bruises on my skin, easing the pain that each one represents, not asking any questions. This is not the time for talking. As his kisses dance down my neck I feel alive again, no longer empty inside.

At one point his teeth nip my collarbone and I am struck as if slapped by memories of different, rough hands and sharp teeth. Of humiliation and fear and hatred. Of angry words and harsh blows. I find myself recoiling away as if stung. Forgetting where I am and losing myself in the past.

“Alice?” His voices snaps me back to reality and I remember who I'm with. The man who had never let me down when I needed him. Who had never let me fall. Who had once danced a whole week's worth of rehearsals without letting me touch the ground because I was injured. Who always checked that I had got home when it was late. His hands are gentle and his words are soft and kind. I love him. I pull him back into me and the way our bodies fit together just feels right.