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His Darkness - Chapter 20
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“I want to tell you something about pain,” he starts, his voice a quiet murmur down my ear. I stare at the spot on the floor, scared to look at him. If I’ll do, I’ll notice the small distance between us.
“Emotional or physical?” I respond, muttering my words. He doesn’t hesitate before replying.
“Emotional, physical pain is for the weak.” I gently pull away, turning to look at him with a frown on my face.
“Physical pain is for the weak? Wow, I didn’t realise I’m hanging out with a super human.”
The corners of his lips twitch upwards. He shrugs, brushing my words off his shoulder.
“All I mean is that physical pain gets better. A cut, a bruise, a broken bone… it all mends itself. Physical pain slowly dissolves, most of it is psychological. If I tell you something is painful and it happens to you, guarantee you will feel that shit ten times more painful. It’s the way our brains work, we’re all humans”
I listen closely to his words, nodding every now and then to show I’m taking an interest.
“Now emotional pain is the tough one. Emotional pain isn’t for the weak, it eats us up from the inside out. It invades your heart, your mind, your body. We can’t mend emotional pain, we can’t stick a plaster over it or put it in a cast. We have to take emotional pain head on and try to not give in to it. Once you give in, it’s like a downward spiral. It sucks you in, stripping the life from you slowly. You can do two things with emotional pain hermosa… you can allow yourself to spin into that downward spiral —–“
“And the second option?” I ask, holding my breath. Alex raises a brow at me, telling me off silently for interrupting him. I wince, muttering an apology.
“The second option is to use your pain as your strength. Use your pain to motivate you, inspire you, keep you alive. Control your pain, don’t let it control you.”
He finishes off, a dark look in his eyes. He rips his gaze away from me and I notice the sharpness of his jawline. A muscle twitches in his jaw every few seconds and I know he’s gritting his teeth. His face looks haunted, pained.
I hesitate, glancing down at his hand that’s dropped back down to his side. Without thinking, I reach forward and take a hold of it in mine. Its large and warm Alex turns back towards me, curiosity filling his eyes. I hold his hand and squeeze tightly, pushing the thought that I’m comforting a stranger to the back of my mind.
“You’re in pain, aren’t you?” I whisper, repeating his words from before. I don’t look into his eyes because truthfully, it scares me. His eyes mirror mine –
Sadness, pain, anger… Mostly anger.
He takes a moment to reply, the silence growing between us. When he does speak, his voice is thick with emotion, weighed down by his personal grief.
“Yes.”
“Me too, Alex. Me too.” I respond softly, his hand still in mine.
“I moved here when I was six from Valencia. It’s my home town back in Spain.” Alex begins, a ghost of a smile. playing on his lips.
“What is it like?” I ask him softly, clutching my legs tightly. I’m trying to keep warm, the more sober I get. the more I feel the harsh wind..
“It’s beautiful, the buildings are grand and built with such precision. The weather is great and the beaches are filled with golden sand. The ocean is always warm and clear, I spent my entire summer doing water sports as a child.” As he talks about his childhood, his brown eyes light up, despite the darkness of the night. I smile as I listen to him, hearing the excitement and love in his voice for his hometown.
“All of my family are in Valencia. Here I only have my father and Juan.” Alex says sadly, shaking his head. I feel my heart hurt for him despite not knowing exactly where his pain is coming from. It causes me to frown, why do I care so much? Feel so much empathy for someone I barely know?
“Why don’t you go back?” I ask him, the thought of that making my heart jolt slightly. Huh, weird.
“I have something I need to do here in England,” he smiles at me, mystery filling his eyes. There’s a darkness behind them that makes me shiver and I want to ask him what it is, what his plans are.
“What about your Mum?” I ask him, a bad feeling settling inside of my stomach. I feel my own stomach flip upside down at the mention of a mother. Immediately, Alex’s entire expression changes. His eyes fill with so much pain, I want to reach over and comfort him in any way I can. They are wide with vulnerability and he tears his gaze off me, looking at the floor instead.
“She died when I was six,” he murmurs, his voice broken, cracking. I clench my jaw tightly and feel my eyes fill with tears, moisture pooling up inside them. My heart aches with pain and I reach over once again, taking his hand..
“I understand.” I whisper, my voice wobbling. His head immediately snaps to the right, eyebrows creased with confusion.
“What do you mean, you understand? You can’t possibly understand how painful it is to have your own mother ripped away from you, so brutally -“
He stops talking abruptly. His jaw clenches and he inhales deeply, composing himself. I watch as the pain melts from his eyes, replaced with anger.
“My Mum died when I was twelve. A blocked valve that travelled to her heart, she was gone within a few hours.” I explain, my words now strong, confident. I don’t want to show my pain, I want to conceal it. He turns to look at me again, guilt filling his eyes.
I can feel my heart pounding hard against my chest. threatening to break through. The empty feeling inside of me deepens and I want to break down, cry and grieve for my dead mother.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He mutters, gently squeezing my hand. I wave his words off, blinking back tears.
“No, no, it’s not your fault, It’s life, it shits all over you when you least expect it **to**”
“Amen to that.” Alex sighs heavily, leaning back until his back is pressed against the pavement. He stares up at the sky, his chest rising and falling steadily. His hand is still wrapped in mine and for a few minutes, I sit beside him, just watching.(Admit)
“What about your father?” Alex asks me, never once blinking as he studies the dull stars above us. At the mention of my dad, my throat begins to tighten. All of the moisture inside my mouth vanishes and I swallow, my mouth feeling like sandpaper. I don’t notice I’m trembling until Alex sits back up, his eyes concerned.
“Hermosa, you’re shaking,” he whispers, pulling me into his chest. I freeze, my body rigid in place.
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