Chapter Thirty One

"She's here."

Abi's groan was the most emotion filled sound he'd ever heard. "Thank fuck. Is she ok?"

Aaron sighed, "she's sleeping off several bottles of vodka."

"Shit! After all this time? When will this end? Fuck. Why couldn't I be there when it happened?"

There were questions, but there were no answers required, instead, he tightened his grip on the phone, it was all SO confusing, "what's going on Abi? I can't deal with this anymore, she's cagey, you've hinted at stuff...and her mother..."

"Her mother?" She shrieked, almost deafening him. "What has that bitch got to say about anything? It's half her fault! SHIT. More than that even."

He sat back and closed his eyes, "she called here, left a message. I am in way over my head, I am blindsided by things that everyone else seems to know about, and I don't know what to do."

It was Abi's turn to huff out her breath, "look, Julia has a complex past, you know that. She's over it, but it's a fine line, her bloody family. Aaron, I can't tell you what is her story to tell, you have to understand that, you have to make her explain, you have to make it right for her."

He shook his head, "I don't think I can, Abi. She needs you maybe."

"Since she's been with you she's been happy, happier than I remember. Don't let this destroy that. She's hard...to get to know. But she has settled in, you get her. Please give her a chance. And call me as soon as she wakes."

He didn't feel obligated because of Abi's words, he was all that Julia had. But it wasn't that either, he liked her, a lot. If he couldn't do this for her, then he wasn't the man he professed to be. Plus, Abi was right. Julia needed him.

Earlier he'd cleaned her face, her hair, and helped her into one of his old t-shirts, he hadn't perved on her body, she'd been awake and feisty enough to snatch the clothes from him, though that lucidity only lasted a few minutes. By the time he got her to the bottom of the stairs to his room, her protests had died on her lips. He'd carried her upstairs, and she'd been fast asleep since.

He checked her breathing, that he could wake her every hour, and made her drink as much water as he could. By midnight he felt tired, she'd been settled for a few hours, and he wasn't concerned that she was going to vomit and choke on it anymore. So, he pulled a throw from the lounge and settled onto the small sofa in the corner of the room.

It wasn't comfortable, but he was tired...yet he didn't want to sleep deeply for fear of missing something, so it worked.

Julia tried to move, but for a moment she couldn't. Her legs were trapped, and she started to flay, lashing out with panic. Only for a moment, but enough to dislodge the two dogs who rushed up the bed to her face to lick her. Groaning she fell back against the pillows, everything hurt.

She tried to process where she was, what she was doing. Her last thought...she groaned again. Drunk, stumbling, how did she get here? She tried to open her eyes, then groaned for the third time, she had no idea where she was. Then she remembered the dogs and sighed with relief. She was at Aaron's at least. She hadn't been this drunk ever before...well maybe once.

She screwed her eyes closed as the tears fell from her eyes uncontrollably. She thought she'd cried every last tear out, obviously her sorrow knew no limits. The letter. It was back in the forefront of her mind, killing her slowly.

She felt sick, but not because of her roiling stomach, more than that. Disgust. Rolling into sitting she spread out her arms to balance for a moment. Then she spotted familiar things, that made the realisation that she was in Aaron's bed wash over her like a smothering wave, draining her of all oxygen.

She had to escape, she couldn't remember anything, anything other than the pain. She had no idea what time it was, what day it was...and what she'd done. Tears of self-loathing fell from her face, as she tried to stand, but her balance failed her, and she stumbled, glad of the doorway to the bathroom to hold on to. Why couldn't she be stronger? Why couldn't she cope with all this?

"Shit, Julia."

That voice cut into her painful reflection. Shit. Anything but that voice.

Turning as bravely as she could, she spotted through the darkness of the room, movement on the sofa in the corner. Aaron rushed over to her, reached for her. She tried to pull away, her head was spinning, her stomach feeling like it was going to throw its contents out at any second.

He cupped her face when she looked away, "it's ok. You don't have to run again."

She tried to look away, hating the sympathy in his eyes, hating that he'd seen her like this, not even Abi had seen her this broken.

The letter.

It was there again, bringing with it that waft of emotions, and she knew that she was literally about to lose it. His arms came to her shoulders, wanting to help her, wanting to make it right, but she wasn't sure if ever would be. She was exhausted, everything hurt, she could barely see. She needed to sleep, for hours. But first, she needed the bathroom.

She offered him a smile, hoping the tears stayed at bay, "I need the loo."

He grimaced awkwardly then stepped away from her, giving a brief nod.

Alone, the world still turning, her body still struggling to stay upright, she managed to use the toilet, wash her hands, face, dragging her hands through her hair, she wished that she could look a little better. Reaching into the cabinet next to the sink, she almost groaned with a tiny ounce of pleasure when she found a stash of new toothbrushes.

Once she'd cleaned her teeth, she felt marginally better. The mirror showed different, her face was tinged with green, her eyes flat and she was wearing Aaron's t-shirt. She couldn't remember that happening. But was too tired to think about it. There would be time for recriminations, for embarrassment. Today, now, was all about coping.

Opening the door, she saw Aaron, sat on the bed, head in his hands, when he looked up, he gave a small smile.

"You ok?"

She shrugged, "I've felt better."

He nodded, "you need to sleep."

"What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch, "three am. I found you about four o'clock..."

She cringed, "really?"

He gave a small shrug, "yep. But not before you had everyone worried."

That made her squirm, and rather than push her, question her, he merely tapped the mattress alongside him, "get some rest. I'm going get a drink."

Julia heard him on the stairs, rather than saw him as it was still dark.

As she lay flat, her body reminded her that she'd abused alcohol to the nth degree. The room swirled, and her stomach swished even quicker than that. But it was when she closed her eyes that she started to shake. It was so quick, the return to that dark place, physically and metaphorically. She had fought to stay out of the place for so long, and so successfully. But since her uncle passed away, nothing had been the same. Her life had been thrown up in the air, and all the work she'd done to function, to cope was wasted.

Pinging open her eyes, she focussed on the light fitting to stop the room spinning, then took a few deep breaths, it was going to be a long night as her body was shaking too, every cell seemed to remember the trauma, the history, the damaging fucking past.

She tried to channel her inner Doctor Fleming, her counsellor and psychologist had given her so many tools to deal with these crises, but they all failed her now, because her world was caving in. She tried to remember the last conversation that she'd had with the doctor, she'd thought that Julia was doing well, that Aaron could be the missing link, because that was her problem. Whilst she had learned to love herself again, whilst she never blamed herself for what happened any more, she still didn't trust, she didn't let anyone else in, she held everyone at arm's length. She'd never been this close to a man before, ever. And that had started this unscrambling process. Now with the latest contact from her family she was well and truly tipped over the edge.

Freefalling.

She heard footsteps on the stairs.

Poor Aaron.

Julia could just about make him out in the half light shed from the bathroom light, watching her for a moment, before lowering his six foot plus frame onto a two-seater sofa. He'd done so much for her, given her so much, and all she did was reject him, push him away. Doctor Fleming's words echoed in her head again, share, tell him, let him help.

She stifled a sob, she couldn't do it.

Now her mind was active, and her body ached for sleep, usually alcohol rendered her unconscious and losing a day or two. A hangover was bad, but it often meant that she was a few steps away from the trauma that had happened, and if she didn't drink...she shuddered thinking of her other solution. Anonymous sex. Dangerous, the media told you. That made her want to laugh. Strangers weren't as dangerous as family, that was her exact experience.

Groaning she rolled to her side, but knew that sleep was eluding her, like this, alone, vulnerable her pained and alcohol affected mind was over active, her thoughts spiralling, the dark faces getting closer. The sob that escaped her lips was unplanned and she immediately regretted it, as it caused Aaron to move.

"Julia." He waited a moment for her to answer, then, when she was silent, asked "are you ok?"

She wanted to say, Yes, I'm fine. But she wasn't sure she could vocalise the words without sobbing again. When she didn't answer again, she heard him stand, step towards her. When he squatted in front of her, he came into her view, his face creased with worry.

"Julia, I'm worried about you."

She shook her head, still not able to speak. This was just too much, as a tear slid down her cheek, she whimpered. And Aaron did what he hadn't done until then, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her head to his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her. She wanted to fight him, to push him away. But it felt so comforting, so supporting to fall into his arms, to let him take her weight physically.

He didn't speak, didn't demand, he just stayed there, on his knees, just being there. She wanted to cry, no one did this for her, no one picked her need out of the quagmire of her anger, her pain, her distrust. But he did, and it made the tears well in her eyes for the umpteenth time.

He must have heard a sob, or something, because he turned his head and she felt his lips against her forehead, and it only increased her emotional turmoil.

"Come on, Jule." He'd never called her by a shortened name, and it ripped her to shreds. "Get some sleep, whatever's going on will look better in the morning. I promise. You need rest."

He eased her down to the mattress, then stood looking down at her, "sleep."

She wanted to scream, anything to stop the tears, the frustration, the devastation. "Wait!" The word left her lips the moment he turned his back to her, and she had no control over it. Turning back, he looked down at her and she hated the scrutiny, but she'd felt the safest she had in a long time in his arms, and without them, she felt more bereft than ever.

"Will you hold me? Please...I can't cope on my own."

He stammered for a moment, "you want me to lay with you?"

She gave the slightest nod, but he was perceptive, he saw that. His groan was of frustration, but that only made her want to moan more, he moved around the bed, to climb in beside her, and when his head hit the pillow, he opened his arms to her, and she rolled into the gratefully.

"Thank you." She whispered the words into his chest, against his t-shirt, and he once again turned his lips to her hair.

"I wish I could help you, Julia. I really do..." But you won't share what's wrong, she answered his question silently. 

She knew that was the case, he deserved the truth, he really did. But that would involve cutting herself open, and she couldn't bare to do that. It didn't scare her, it threatened her. So instead of dealing with it, she inhaled his scent and drifted into a turbulent sleep.