Enemy Beloved

34 | something more

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C L A I R E

Memories are scary. They have the power to haunt you every time you close your eyes. I have my share of bad memories too.

The recall starts in simple ways — like the moment in first grade when Kevin Lewinsky dropped noodles on my head, or the time in secondary school when Nina and Jesse got their first boyfriends while no one asked me out, or the time when I had to change myself completely in high school only to find out that I was a victim for stalkers to follow me home, or the day when I came home from prom with my Dad only to find out that my brother was gone forever.

But worst of all, the memory of that day is the one that chills me to my bone. I close my eyes, I see the masked man. I open my eyes and find him still there. My skin crawls when I remember being pressed under him, the glint of the steel knife when it cut my face, leaving me with two viciously ugly lines on my cheek which the doctor said would take a lifetime to vanish for the cut was so deep. I remember the way I ran after I defeated him. It was by sheer luck that he believed my pretense or else, I don't want to think of where I would have been now.

It's been fourteen days of doctor's appointments, my Mom calling me day and night to check on me, Rose and Doris taking care of me, and fourteen days of Vaughn slipping beside me at night and holding me close to him. Sometimes it feels like the memory won't stop replaying, like it will go on and on and that's when I get scared the most.

"Claire?" Vaughn says my name as he slips a hand under the blankets and presses my body to his. "I'm here for you."

He has been telling me that every night for the past week, telling me that he is guilty of not being there for me. I try to tell him that I am fine always but lying feels unfair. I am not okay. I may never be okay.

Yet, I turn to him, shifting my body to find him resting on an elbow as he looks down at me. The room is dark but the half-moon outside gives a little glimpse of his beautiful face. He is dressed in a plain white T-shirt and trousers, smelling of fresh soap and his hair is wet from the shower. I see the dark circles below his eyes and feel pity for him.

He has been working all week and not just doing office work. He spends his day calling all the officers hired in the investigation, all of whom give him disappointing results. They don't want to share anything other than the necessary details for fear that the media might get their hands on the reports and cause chaos. The Jackson family is always on their radar and they want to avoid anything which may derail the investigation. Pretty useless people if I have to comment.

Vaughn spends his afternoons and evenings locking himself in his study and working on his projects. He has avoided going to the office till I get better, scared of leaving me alone for another second and I don't know what to make of it.

How long will this go on? Am I even capable of defending myself without him? I have no self-defense training except for the ones I saw in movies but is that something I can depend upon? What if the killer comes back? How will I stop him then?

"Vaughn?" I say, swallowing a gulp. "I want to learn how to fight."

He silently observes me for some time with a bemused expression before getting up to a sitting position, making me get up too and sit beside him. He pulls his knees to his chest, crossing his feet at the ankles as he rests his forearms on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair.

"You want to hire an instructor or would you be okay with Rose teaching you?"

My lips part in surprise. I was expecting him to give me one of the manly speeches men usually give to women. Something like 'You don't need any training. I'm your husband, I'll protect you.' At least that's what I heard my father say to my mother whenever she asked him the same.