I examined my face in the mirror of the bathroom with a suspicious expression, looking for what Marshal called 'beautiful'. I didn't know what to look for, and I didn't like what I saw. Rage. Suspicion. Coldness. A hardness that shouldn't have been. I drew the hair from my face and examined the scarring and the pearlescent color of the eye. A frown lowered my brows and I pressed my lips together. What's beautiful in this? It stood as a grotesque reminder of my violent past.
Marshal appeared in the doorway of the bathroom dressed in a gray t-shirt and a pair of dark blue boxers--my pajamas were a horribly soft, satiny light blue. He halted and watched me scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I lowered my hair to cover my eye and picked up my hairbrush. He came to stand beside me as I began brushing my hair.
He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms as he watched me. "So what were you looking for?"
"Beauty."
His scrutiny didn't lessen, but I didn't mind. "You don't see it, do you."
"I see my past." I set down the brush and turned. Marshal didn't move, and the bathroom was small enough that his position blocked the exit. My insides twisted. "Move."
He straightened and lowered his arms to his sides. "Sorry."
I briefly met his gaze and then stepped past. I heard the sound of him following. 'I want you. You're right.' I halted at the side of the bed, balling my hands into fists moments before slipping between the covers. I laid on my right side and stared at the far wall--
Marshal crouched down in front of me and met my gaze. "You need me to take a jog until you fall asleep?"
I rolled over onto my other side. "No."
I heard Marshal stand and felt him watch me. Then he released a slow breath, I heard him scrub his scalp, and then walk around to the other side of the bed. I rolled back to my right side as he slipped into bed. I closed my eyes and fisted my hands, my insides tightening so hard that I pulled my knees up to my chin.
There sounded a shuffle and I felt the shift of blankets as Marshal adjusted himself within the bed. Then his presence began to warm the sheets, thereby warming me. He didn't move closer. He didn't pull me closer. He just lay there on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.
I released a slow breath. Another memory shattered with but a simple action. With so many memories shattered, I didn't have--I had no idea how to act in the future. That which had defined me was gone or going. Everything I knew in the past didn't pertain to this new present. What I had was wrong. Horribly malformed and twisted.
It was a lie that I could choose not to believe. "Blake."
I heard the sound of head on pillow as he looked over at me. "Yeah?"
"It was my father." And the confession was bittersweet.
Marshal remained silent for a long time before releasing a slow and deep breath. I heard him roll onto his side, his warmth so much closer, and then he rested a hand on my arm and gave a slight back-and-forth stroke. I breathed in a suspiciously rough sigh and released it.
Marshal moved slightly closer while whispering "I'm gonna hold you, Ana."
I squeezed my eyes tighter, but I still felt a tear escape as his arm drew me gently against him. He didn't offer anything else but that. And that was more than enough. More than I ever had. More than what I came to expect.
I breathed in again, rougher this time, and choked out the exhalation. Marshal's arm adjusted itself around me, and I felt his slight breath near my ear as he whispered "It's all right now, girl." He lightly touched my temple with his lips. "You can sleep."
Yes. I could. I had a new nightmare. A nightmare without an ending.