Brave (Healer)

by April Smyth

  He takes me to the main building. It is less harrowing on the inside in comparison to its dilapidating exterior. He gives me a tour. Clearly it isn’t as grand as it used to be but everywhere there are rich colours: maroons, burgundies, chocolate browns, and rich textures: hard woods, heavy velvet drapes, silks on the coffee table. There are two lounges, a formal dining area, three bedrooms accompanied by their own bathrooms, a games parlour with a deluxe pool table and a wonderful kitchen with oak counters. There are burning fires in most of the rooms so my skin is toasty by the time he shows me the last room upstairs which is his own bedroom.

  I feel uncomfortable standing in this man’s bedroom when I know nothing about him apart from that I maybe want to sleep with him. His bedroom is plain: mahogany furniture and dark violet bedsheets and matching curtains. The bed looks insanely comfortable and is overflowing with decorative cushions and a furry throw at the end. It doesn’t seem to match Oliver’s macho exterior but probably says a lot about his cushy heart.

  He seems embarrassed, ‘I let my housekeeper pick all the interior design... She loves all this shit,’ he laughs and picks up a little bejeweled pillow. ‘If it was up to me I’d be sleeping outside every night but she insists...’

  Odd relationship to have with staff but it makes a sweet contrast to Maurice and his army of workers. I wonder how they are all coping after my escape.

  ‘I’ll introduce you to her,’ he says but I’m lost in thought.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My housekeeper, June,’ he says and we leave his bedroom to return to one of the lounges, ‘She is an angel. She seriously stops me from going insane up here and she is hilarious too. You will love her at least if you think I suck you will have some company.’

  A very small smile creeps onto my face, ‘I don’t think you suck.’

  I kind of wish I did. I have spent so long being internally miserable that I have become accustomed to it. Being sad is now just a way of life for me and pretending it doesn’t exist is almost as easy too. It’s making me feel uneasy when Oliver is batting those thick eyelashes in my direction, I feel like it will be okay eventually. There is something about him that makes me feel safe.

  ‘Yet,’ Oliver smirks.

  A short, dark lady enters the room. Her black hair is greying and she is wearing very casual clothes for a member of staff. Clearly Oliver has a very relaxed relationship with this woman. She smiles wildly at me and she extends a hand to me, ‘I am June. It is very nice to meet you, Cassie, I hope you will feel at home with me and Oliver.’ She has an English accent which seems out of place contrasting against Oliver and I’s broad Scottish cadence.

  I look at the way they regard each other; there is clearly a strong bond between these two people like mother and child which makes me wonder about Oliver’s parents and in turn I cast my mind towards my own parents. My dad will be in a state of panic again. He has only just been able to hold his new baby girl in his arms and now his first baby girl has been torn for his arms again. I feel sick thinking about the anguish I have put upon my family. I have destroyed my father too many times and it’s all because of my stupid blood. This sticky red liquid running through my veins is capable of so much healing and goodness yet all I have seen it do is corrupt and tear people’s lives apart.

  As for my mother, Lucinda, I still know so little about her yet I yearn for her more than anybody in the world. It is so unjust that I have to live without her. She was a Healer like me, she could have helped me understand and taught me how to deal with being different. We could have done great things and really helped people together but Maurice killed her and he ruined my life, he destroyed a piece of my father too, he took away our happy family and although another happy family grew in its place I wish she was still here so much.

  ‘Your head is in the clouds, Cassie,’ June says and this makes me smile. I am going to like it here in spite of all the madness. Who knew a perfect haven existed not so far from me? I wish Oliver had kidnapped me a long time ago.

  A haven is exactly what this is. Although I’ve never been a major fan of the silver screen, Oliver and I watch 80s movies until it is dark outside. June dips in and out occasionally and mutters something nonsensical. Sometimes Oliver and I talk over the movie and it astounds me to learn that he is incredibly open about his life.

  He talks freely about his life and it is odd to be with someone who isn’t such a mystery. His parents died when he was young but they bestowed custody on June who has ran the affairs in this house ever since he was five years old and she still keeps things in order even now that he is old enough to do it himself. He loves cheesy movies, soul music and Chinese food. He seems shocked when I tell him that I prefer dusty books to movies, and always have, and promises me that he will teach me the beauty of a good, heartwarming film.

  After a couple of hours, when it is completely black outside, I am totally comfortable in his presence and I feel like I know him so well, ‘And what about being a werewolf?’ I ask. I am curious. I know plenty about vampires to understand they are monsters. There is nothing human or redeeming about them. I know a little about witches; they’re not all bad but I am pretty sure I wouldn’t want to irk a powerful witch after realising the enormity of what Arrow has been capable of. However I am completely ignorant in the realms of werewolves. I’m just unsure whether it is too much of a personal question and we’re not quite at that point of our friendship yet after all it has only been a day.

  ‘What about it?’ he asks with a shrug. I’m glad he doesn’t seem offended or flustered by my curiousity.

  ‘Well, tell me whatever you want me to know,’ I say. I am completely relaxed for the first time in months. I’m stretched out on his black leather couch with a coffee coloured cover tucked around me. June has provided us with hot chocolate and toast throughout the day and the easy conversation has been the best medicine for my sore heart.

  ‘And what do you want to know?’

  ‘Stop being cryptic,’ I laugh softly. ‘I have no time for that in my life anymore.’

  ‘Well, I am a human just as much as you but every so often I turn into a wolf,’ he says like it is as simple and normal as brushing your teeth in the morning. There has to be more to it than that but for the first time today Oliver doesn’t seem interested in talking.

  But he did say he is human, just as much as me. That is a relief. I couldn’t deal with another alien creature like a vampire again. Men are bad enough to deal with but even worse without a healthy dose of humanity. ‘Every so often?’ I probe. ‘Like once a month, only at night?’

  ‘It occurs during the full moon so yeah around once a month and only at night,’ he explains. ‘Enough about me, what is it like to be a Healer?’

  I wince at the mention of that horrible word. Healing should bring happiness to our lives. I should be able to help people but healing means more to me than that now. I understand the true power of the ability to heal and the burden that it brings. Oliver notes my uncomfortable silence and turns the movie up louder as if to say: ‘it’s okay we don’t have to talk about it now.’ I know eventually I will be able to open up to Oliver like he has with me. It would be so easy to be vulnerable around him but I have discovered the hard way that leaving yourself unguarded can only end in you being shot down.

  Time is moving fast and I’m all to aware, and terrified, of this. I don’t want the day to end. Spending time with Oliver is perfect but when I have to go back to that shed outside I will be reminded of the terror. Maurice is in Ayrin, he is so close to my family and he is after me. He isn’t in France anymore and reality is going to sink in. I have to face the fact that I am going to die soon and only Oliver can ward off that painful realisation.

  FOUR

  I am exhausted. A day of doing very little physically has been so mentally tiring. If only I could cuddle into that big purple bed and snuggle my face into Oliver’s chest I would fall asleep instantly and I even think he could keep the nightmares away.

 
I yawn. Oliver laughs and it is like sweet music. I miss Gabe’s laughter; it possessed real healing qualities. ‘You’re tired. Time for bed?’

  ‘No,’ I snap. That is the last thing I want. I can’t leave here. ‘I’m not tired,’ but another yawn follows almost immediately and gives my dishonesty away so I have nothing to do but smile like a mischievous child.

  Oliver hovers over me and without my permission he scoops me up in his arms. ‘You are really tiny,’ he says. I want to fight it but I am too tired so I hook my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. He smells earthy like mud and faint sweat but I like it. His beard scratches my forehead but I like that too. The fact that he can hold me with such ease and treats me like a doll should be repulsive to someone who considers themselves an independent woman but after the year I’ve had, it feels incredible to be encompassed by another person and let your worries soak into their body.

  He carries me through the house, outside into the bitterly cold Scottish air and back into that dingy hut in the back garden. He lays me onto the bed and we sigh in unison. I wonder if he didn’t want to let go of me as much as I didn’t want to be let go of.

  ‘Do I have to stay here? Can’t I just stay in one of the spare bedrooms? You have enough,’ I complain.

  He rolls his eyes, ‘I would love you to but there are no wards on the house to stop vampires getting in and I really need to get some sleep. I can’t stay awake all night afraid a big, bad vampire is going to get you and I am a pretty heavy sleeper.’

  I laugh but I am so tired that it trails off. In my sleepy haze I pull off my jeans and tuck myself underneath the thin bedsheets and look at my new kidnapper. He is beautiful. His face is big and wide as are all his features like those huge brown eyes. They are different from Gabe’s but still lovely.

  ‘It’s so cold in here,’ I complain.

  ‘Don’t be a baby,’ he says but he lies beside me with only the thin cover separating us. His body heat is enough to bring some warmth back into my body but I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to move in closer and really feet his warmth.

  I frown. My heart is beating faster at the proximity. I really do want to jump on him and feel his body all over mine but I love Gabe wholeheartedly and I know deep down that using physical love to distract me would only pour salt into the wound that my love for Gabe has caused.

  Oliver is making it hard for me not to give into the distraction though. He puts an arm around me and turns so our faces look into one another’s. Up close I can see every small hair on his face and every pore in his sallow skin and I can hear his slow breathing. I wonder what he is thinking about.

  He yawns.

  ‘Are you tired? You can go to bed if you want to,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to stay with me.’ But I wish you would.

  He smiles angelically, ‘I hate leaving you in here alone it feels so cruel.’

  Maurice never minded leaving me alone. We would have sex and he would disappear taking the comfort he provided away from me and leaving me with an empty sensation in my guts. It was easy for him to pretend that he wanted to fall asleep and wake up together but neither of us were really after companionship though. I needed something to stop the hemorrhaging pain of loving and losing Gabe and my family and Maurice just thirsted for my blood. My happiness meant nothing to him.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I whisper but I am not so sure I mean it. I am afraid of what thoughts will come to me once Oliver leaves. There are so many stalking around at the back of my mind waiting to pounce on me as soon as he is gone.

  ‘You don’t have to lie to me, Cassie, I’m not your parent. Don’t tell me you’re okay if you’re not,’ he says and there is a sadness in his face which is only detectable from this close up. It is so sweet, so tender, that I could cry. It fills me with the weirdest feeling that he knows I’m lying. Is this hope?

  My family and my friends don’t know how I really feel or maybe they do and they just deny the truth because it is easier to buy into the idea of happiness than admit someone you love is dying on the inside. Regardless, it is nice for someone to finally see what is going on underneath and for once someone is really allowing me to be sad. I can take off the mask now.

  I clear my throat of any tears lingering there, ‘I’m really scared, Oliver.’

  I think, for a second, that he might start crying but he doesn’t instead he pulls me in closer and kisses my forehead like I am a small child, ‘I know you are. Everyone is and, Cassie, don’t ever lie to me again.’

  ‘I didn’t...’

  ‘Yes, you did. You said you weren’t tired tonight but you are clearly exhausted and you said you were fine but you couldn’t be any more terrified,’ he says. ‘You can be honest with me, Cassie, if we are going to be living together for a while I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me the truth.’

  If I was being honest, I would tell him that my heart is broken because I am madly in love with a boy who doesn’t know who I am anymore and that I am scared to death of losing the people I love. If I was being honest, I might also tell him that in one day everything has changed and that I want him to cover me in soft kisses and fall asleep with me tonight. How can I tell him these things and expect him not to run away?

  ‘Okay, I promise I’ll tell the truth from now on,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep either,’ he smirks and he squeezes me a little tighter. ‘Right try to sleep. I need to go to bed soon. There is a radio under the bed if you need to talk to me, there is a buzzer to wake me up and there is a phone on the wall in case you need anything from June.’

  He is going to leave; I want to beg him to stay with me. I’m not ready to let go of him and let the sadness rush in. He is like a plug in the hole in my life and when he leaves, it will disappear and the hope will drain out of me and I’ll be empty again. It seems silly when I know I will see him in the morning but goodbyes are hard for me now. Oliver kisses me on the forehead and leaves me in an impregnable silence where I contemplate the worst goodbye of my life.

  Remembering saying goodbye to Gabe makes a chill run through me. The last words he said to me were ‘take care of yourself.’ He was never one for expressing how he really feels and now I’ll never know. I like to believe, maybe I just convince myself, that he loved me and that even without his memories somewhere inside of him his love for me still exists. It just need to be unlocked like the padlocks at the Ponts des Arts: my favourite spot in Paris. I remember Gabe’s dreamy stare as he looked off into the horizon as we stood on that bridge together. I would give anything to see his face again and to redo our last goodbye. My heart aches.

  I am more alone than ever in this cold, damp hut. If only Gabe could be here with me. I could hold him tightly until all his memories returned. I would give him only the good ones. He doesn’t need to think about Claire, his ex-girlfriend who can’t even remember his name, or the hideous monster that is Maurice. I would just fill him up with my love and that would be enough. But Gabe isn’t here.

  I turn to yearning for Oliver’s company. He is warm and lovely and it is delightfully distracting to be with him but not in the sinister way that Maurice shadowed my pain with false desire. Oliver is peaceful and he is odd and I like him a lot. I wish he could hold me to keep the cold and the solitariness at bay.

  I begin to cry and I cry until I can’t feel sorry for myself anymore. I try to sleep. I toss and turn. The sadness of missing Gabe is replaced with fear for my family. Are they safe? Has Maurice found them or has he moved on in a quest to find what he is really after? Me. A strange wave of unconsciousness comes over me but all I can see in the darkness is Maurice’s evil face. The same devilish expression which is etched onto Gabe’s skin. I can see nothing else and he is laughing. He is cackling at me because he knows he is going to win and I begin to scream.

  I scream so hard that I am certain I am waking the entire world up and then the door swings open. I think it is Maurice, he has found me already, and I screa
m even louder until I realise that the silhouette standing before me is too large in stature to be lithe Maurice and it is reaching out to hold me with affection. It’s Oliver. Did he hear my screams?

  ‘It’s okay, Cassie, it’s alright,’ in a swift movement he has me propped upon his knee and is stroking my hair. I sob and I scream into his chest. I’m terrified, I’m angry and I’m indescribably sad.

  ‘I miss him so much, Oliver,’ I manage to say through my cries.

  ‘I know you do,’ he rocks back and forwards gently and runs his fingers through my knotty hair. ‘Of course you do.’

  He keeps rocking me like a baby and as if by magic I stop crying and I feel sleepy. He can’t leave me again. I can’t be left alone in here or the darkness will consume me completely. Fear will kill me before Maurice does. ‘Please don’t go again,’ I say softly.

  ‘I promise I won’t,’ this is the most serious I have heard Oliver since I’ve met him. His face is hardened with a deeply pensive expression. ‘Get into bed.’

  Now that the teary glaze has been removed I can take in my surroundings and I realise Oliver is severely underdressed and is in nothing but a pair of tight white pants. His body is magnificent. I have never seen a man look so mammoth and every muscle so defined. I thought Maurice was a sight to behold but Oliver is breathtaking. Wow.

  He pulls back the covers for me and I slip underneath. I expect him to tuck me in like a child but instead he crawls in right beside me. The bed is tiny and definitely not made for two people especially not one who is giant like Oliver but I love him being here with me.

  ‘You’re freezing,’ he whispers into my hair which, because of the tight space, must be suffocating him. He puts his warm hands on my shivering body to heat me up and I feel jumpy as his fingers touch my thighs and stomach. He feels my anxiety and in a hushed voice says, ‘Try to sleep, Cassie.’