Ring of Fire

Chapter Eight

The last thing I remember was a searing pain as her fist made contact with my face, a residual panic resurfacing as the memories flooded back and then darkness. Flashbacks infiltrated the blanket of nothingness that smothered me. Wanda's fist coming towards me flickered and obscured. Her face contorted, into something that bought me fear. Her brunette hair shifted into the blonde waves of someone I knew all to well. In being punched in the face, I had been thrown back into the memories of being hit by Jules. The harsh reminder struck, that no matter how much I tried to forget, how much I tried to pretend that it could be, nothing would be the same with Jules and I ever again. Even if I was naïve enough to let myself believe she could change back to the woman she once was, even if she learnt to love me again, I would always be tainted with the reminder of that night. I loved Jules, it was simple. It's far too easy to fall into the trap of unrequited love. I would hope and pray for the day I could forgive her however deep down I knew I could never forget. This just proved it. 

The present glitched with the past in my mind. They blurred and swirled and somehow I lost track of where I was. Despite knowing I was in my safe place with Nat and Wanda, my entire being felt like it did that night. And that terrified me. I needed to escape - that was my gut reaction. My brain was sending a message to my stomach to twist in anxiety, to my muscles to tense ready to run, to my heart to pound. The anxiety settled in every part of my body telling me to be prepared to escape. However, there wasn't anything I could do. I was still lying motionless on the cold, hard floor unable to drag myself back into consciousness. 

Featherlight touches turned me over into different positions. Deep down I knew this was Nat moving me to keep me safe. I knew this was someone who only cared about my wellbeing. Yet, this feeling of touch left me feeling vulnerable. This soft intimacy simply bought back memories of how delicately intimate Jules had been with me only days after she hit me. It reminded me of how easily she lulled me into a false sense of security, only for her to hurt me mentally again. However much I hated the thought of her doing that to me again, I knew myself. I would let her because I loved her. That's the thing with unrequited love - the second they give you the attention you've deserved every second of every day, you allow yourself to believe it's different. That they've changed. You know they haven't but you let yourself get hurt all over again because of the stupid hope hidden deep in your heart. 

I can't recall how long I was unconscious for. The flashbacks and embedded feelings felt like they stretched for hours. But those featherlight touches were enough to make me stir as it caused that desperation to escape to become much stronger. It was slow at first, I blinked into the bright light of the room. Nat was crouched beside me, head turned to look out towards the door where another figure stood. My eyes were unfocused but I could tell it was Nat from the low red bun at the base of her head. She had one hand on my nose, pinching the bridge of it to prevent it from bleeding and her other hand gently rubbing my shoulder. In normal circumstances, this would be comforting. In normal circumstances, that would be relieving. But this wasn't a normal circumstance because little did they know how deep the anxiety and fear was rooted into my body.  Little did they know that one accident had caused me to mentally spiral further than I thought possible.

The adrenaline finally caught up with the fear and I scrambled out of Nat's grasp and pressed my back against the cold wall behind me. I heaved. I gasped. My ribs rose and fell rapidly and my heart pounded against them. My knuckles turned white as I pressed my clammy palms into the linoleum floor of the hall. Something dripped down my face and I couldn't identify whether it was tears or sweat or blood. I could feel the dried tracks of blood leading down my my upper lip. And now that no one was holding pressure on my nose, I could also feel the fresh blood beginning to drip down into my mouth leaving a metallic taste behind. The rusty tracks turned crimson once again. I lifted one hand to wipe it away.