Falling

"You are such a cunt," Annabelle responded, her voice flat and cold. "I honestly no longer have any idea what I ever saw in you. And I regret every second of my time and love and energy that I've wasted on you. Enjoy your pathetic little 'victory', Freya. Wow, you really showed me, didn't you. I'm actually impressed; I thought you'd forgotten what that part of you was for."

Freya's face went white with rage, and Annabelle took a breath.

I watched my friend squint up at her lover and square her shoulders.

"You know... I never actually cheated on you. But now I wish to God that I had."

"Liar!"

"Whatever. You should leave, Freya. You should leave, now. Go! Go pack your shit and get out of my flat. You'd better be gone by the time I'm home or I will pile up everything you've ever bought or touched or even looked at into a pile in the parking lot and set it on fire."

"Oh, I'll leave," Freya spat. "I'll leave, all right. Once I'm done with your slut!"

She lunged forward past Annabelle and lashed out at me.

I barely even had time to begin to flinch before her hard, angular knuckles connected.

.:.

I vaguely heard Annabelle shouting.

I heard a door slam.

Tyres squealed and a car sped off while concerned voices babbled around me.

I could taste hot, coppery blood on my tongue, and my jaw and cheek throbbed.

And then I felt strong arms gathering me tightly in against a firm body; supporting me, cradling me, rocking me gently to and fro.

I groggily realised that I was lying partly pillowed on Annabelle's lap. She sat on the frozen bricks, heedless of the muddy, ice-cold water that was soaking her leggings, gently smoothing my hair back as she softly repeated my name over and over again.

.:.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Annabelle whispered for the five-millionth time.

"It's ok," I repeated. I shifted the cold pack against my jaw.

"I should have been quicker. I know she's violent. I know it! I should have seen it coming and stopped her!"

"It's not your fault..."

"I'm so fucking sorry, Isla..."

I reached out and found her hand. "Annabelle. Take a breath. It's ok. I'm ok."

The gym's first aider coughed politely. I shifted slightly, focussed back on him.

"Again. I don't think anything's broken, but I really do think you should go to A&E and get checked out," he repeated. "Please. I am not medically trained. I'm guessing based on gut feel. I'm extremely concerned that you aren't taking this seriously enough. You could have a head injury."

"I'm ok. Really. I am. Just sore. I didn't hit my head. Just my bum," I added, ruefully.

"Yes, well... please at least think about what I said?"

"I can move my jaw. It's not broken. It just hurts."

"Your cheek could be fractured."

I prodded at it and winced. "It's ok. There's no sharp pain. I've broken a bone before, I remember what it feels like."

He shook his head. "You climbers are all mental."

"She's not a climber, Steve," Annabelle corrected him. "She's just one of our horde of admirers."

"Right. Well. In that case, Annabelle, can you please keep an eye on this stubborn friend of yours. If she gets dizzy or slurs her words or anything weird, take her straight to A&E. Right?"

"I promise that I'll stick closer to her than her own shadow," Annabelle answered him, with a sidelong glance at me.

He grunted and began to pack up his first aid kit. "You should stay still for a bit. We've got a examination bed in the physio office that you could lie down on for a while."

"I'm ok. I just want coffee and cake." I winced, then waggled my jaw a bit more. "Make that coffee. Cake will have to wait until I can chew."

He sighed in frustration and departed, leaving us in peace. I eased back into the chair.

"Well. My bum's soaked and I'm a mess. So much for gym today."

"I'm so sorry for this, Isla. And I'm so fucking sorry for all those truly awful things she called you. They were all untrue. All of them."

"Words are cheap. I'm used to ignoring them. And I don't remember you hitting me."

"I might as well have. I should have stopped her. I should have known she would do something like that."

"Has..."

I winced, shifted the ice pack.

"Has she done that before?"

"She's taken swings at me before. It's no biggie, I'm far stronger than her and I can usually duck them or block them. I've learned to watch my back."

"She's been abusing you, Annabelle."

"Yeah, well... it's my fault for allowing it."

"No. It really isn't. And it's not ok. Nobody should have to go through that or make excuses for it."

She sighed and squeezed my hand. "You're going to have such a bruise. I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. "It's not like I have anyone to look pretty for, is it? And it will heal in time. Everything does."

She swallowed and looked away. But she kept hold of my hand, clutching it as if to comfort herself.

"Are you ok?" I asked her, after some time.

"No," she whispered.

"I'm really sorry I caused such a spectacular and public break-up."

She laughed, then choked, then scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand.

"Annabelle?"

She turned slightly further away from me. "Sorry," she whispered again. "It's just hit me. The reality of it. That it's really over."

She took a sobbing breath, then another, and found some control once more.

"You know what sucks most, for me?" she whispered. "It's... drawing a red line through two years of my life and writing them off. That and the memories of when it was better. I hate those. They tear at me."

I squeezed her hand.

"Did you learn something at least?"

She sniffed. "How to recognise early-onset psychosis, I guess."

"I think that in time.... you'll realise you learned more and... you'll probably be grateful for this time."

"I'd goddamn better get something decent out of it, given how much it's hurt me. Us," she corrected herself, with a shamefaced wince.

"Can I... ask a favour?"

"Of course," she said, looking up at me. "I'd do anything for you. Anything at all."

"Will you please drive me home?"

She nodded. "Now?"

"Please. I want to change clothes and wash this... drama... off of myself somewhere where nobody will be watching me or judging me or trying to subtly find out if I'm being beaten at home."

"Ok. Let's go, then."

She wiped her eyes once more, then stood and gently helped pull me to my feet.

She held my hand all the way to her car.

And I felt no urge to let hers go.

.:.

"Are you sure I can't make you something?"

"I can't really chew much right now. So unless it's liquid, I'm out of luck. I'd sell my soul for a glass of wine, but I can't until the painkillers wear off."

"I might just drink yours," she muttered.

"Go ahead, I don't mind. At least one of us can have fun," I added. "I'll sniff it and pretend."

"I shouldn't, but maybe I will."

"It's been a rough day. Be gentle with yourself."

She sighed and resumed her restless pacing.

"Fuck. I can't believe I fucked that up so badly. How are you so calm about this? I'd be fuming if it was me. I'd have kicked me out if it was me..."

I shrugged. "I'm tired and sore, but it's nothing that won't pass with time. Wasting energy on theatrics seems... silly. Especially, and I say this with great affection, especially having seen how overdramatic your ex is. Was."

"I get the point."

"Have some wine, Annabelle. It will numb the edges a bit. And for God's sake, sit down."

"Bella," she said, suddenly. She stopped pacing and stared down at me.

"What?"

"Bella. You should call me that. Bella, I mean. I'd... like it."

"Oh. Ok. I will... if you like. Anyway... pour some wine. Put your feet up. Cry if you need to. It's ok to feel sad, or upset. You just broke up with your girlfriend. That's hard..."

"It wasn't. It was easy. I should have done it a long time ago. Hard is when I look at that horrible bruise on your face," she continued, softly. "Hard is knowing that I caused that by letting her get away with her shit for so long. Hardest is knowing that my stupidity hurt you. Are you sure I can't..."

"Bella," I said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

"...yes?"

I struggled to my feet and took her hand. "Sit your bum down," I said, pushing her gently backwards. She collapsed onto my couch and sat there, staring up at me. "Stay there and don't move," I ordered her. I fetched a wineglass, filled it from the remains of the bottle of white in my small fridge, and gave it to her.

"Drink this," I said. "And stop fretting about me. Yes, I'm sore. Yes, your ex punched me. Yes, it hurts. But... I really don't care. I'm just glad that it was me and not you. You've had to deal with enough, ok?"

"You're so kind," she whispered.

"You're my... my friend. Let me have your back for a bit now, ok?"

"Ok," she whispered. She put her glass down untasted and pulled her uninjured knee up to her chest, then sat, hugging it tightly as she took a shuddering breath.

"Oh God. I shudder to think what my place is going to look like when she's done."

"Oh no. Do you think she would trash it?"

"She always throws things when she's enraged. I'm sure it will be carnage. All my pictures, my books, my medals..."

"Well. In my opinion you're well out of that relationship then, Bella. It's not right to have to live in something like that. Abuse and violence like that is never forgivable."

"I used to think she was just passionate," she said, softly. "It was... exciting. She felt everything so powerfully - both the good and the bad. And the... the sex... really was extraordinary. But... but then..."

"You discovered the darker side of it?"

"Yes... how... how is it that you know so much about this?"

"A university friend had... problems. I saw... things I'd love to be able to forget."

"Oh." She sighed. "So... yes. Anyway. A lot of our issues are... were hers, but... to be fair, I have spent a lot of time lying to myself as well. And to her... I guess. I didn't exactly help matters."

"Why didn't she just leave?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think she still... loves you?"

"Loves? No. Not any more. Not now, and possibly not ever. I think... it's a ownership thing. I think she wanted to... to possess me. Like a pet, or a sculpture. I think that's why she attacked you. Because she thought that I was... yours... now."

"I guess I should feel... flattered," I said. I was amused by the idea that someone would even for a moment think that a goddess like Annabelle would be interested in a nobody like me.

"Well. If I could meet someone like you I'd count myself lucky."

"I'm... really not anything special," I stammered, after a shocked moment of silence.

"You're more than special to me," she corrected me.

I shifted uncomfortably, cheeks burning; she looked away, conscious perhaps that she'd said more than she'd intended.

"Isla... do... do you mind if I shower? I feel filthy and I just want to wash today off me."

"Of course," I said, relieved for the change of subject. "Go ahead. Let me get you a towel..."

"It's ok. I've got one in my gym bag."

She made her way to the bathroom and I listened with one ear to the various small sounds she made as she stripped and eased herself into my small shower cubicle. "Use anything you like," I called out. "It's all fair game."

"Thanks," came her muffled response. "Um... Isla, the water's not warming up."

"It takes a while."

"Oh... there it goes."

"Yeah. Sorry. It's a sad excuse for a shower. Tell me, have you got anything to wear?"

"Not really. Just spare leggings. I wasn't planning on needing a change of clothes today."

"I'll find you a warm top then. And some socks."

I groaned and clambered to my feet. I dug in my cupboard and found a faded pink long-sleeved vest that I'd accidentally shrunk. It would fit her better than anything else I had. I threw in a pair of grey wooly socks as well; the heating was on but the flat was still on the chilly side.

"I've left it folded on the bed," I called. "It's a bit thin but it will at least be comfortable. It's pink, sorry... I hope that's not against your religious beliefs or anything..."

"That's fine. I'll be a girl for once. Thanks, Isla. "

I prodded at my jaw, sighed, and set about making myself some tea.

.:.

"How's the pain?" she asked softly when she emerged. She was carrying the duvet from my bed, and she came to me and bent over me to tuck me in where I lounged on the couch.

I shivered as her fingers brushed my arms, and spent a moment trying to calm myself again. Scent from my favourite body lotion wafted over me, and I had to close my eyes for a breath or two as I fought the urge to...

I was starting to find her extended proximity dangerously distracting - long-dormant feelings were beginning to shift and squirm in the deeper parts of my mind.

"A bit better. I think the swelling's going down a bit," I managed at last.

"I wish I could do something to make you feel better."

"Carry on whining and wringing your hands and I'll start demanding forfeits from you."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Another massage, for starters."

She stared down at me for a moment. "I mean... I'll do that for free, if you want. Gladly."

"I might take you up on that later, I think. If the offer's still there."

"It will be," she said softly. "Well then... since booze is out, how about I start looking into supper for us. I know it's a bit early..."

"That's not the worst idea I've heard. Something easy to chew, though. Like soup," I added.

"Uh huh. So... please... why don't you tell me more... about you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Lots of things. But... I guess, for now, what makes you tick."

"Tick in what way?"

"Things you... that you like. Apart from gym and wine and your sister and your massive hypersensitivity to having your scalp and neck and shoulders touched... I know very little about you. I'd like to know... more."

I leaned back against the armrest, watching her as she dug into the fridge and the cupboards. The vest I'd loaned her fitted her well; it followed her contours without clinging too tightly, merely hinting as to what lay under it...

I flushed as I realised what I was doing, and glanced hurriedly away.

"I'm trying to think of what you'd find interesting or useful to know," I said, trying to keep some sort of nonchalance in my voice.

"Tell me your favourite colour?"

"Navy blue," I answered immediately.

"It's aquamarine for me," she said. "Lets see... favourite movie?"

"No. Never. You'll laugh at me," I sighed. "I'll forever be uncool to you."

"Try me," she said, glancing up at me.

"What Dreams May Come," I answered, softly.

"Oh my goodness. Why would I laugh at that? It's so beautiful and so bittersweet. I've always loved it."

"Now I'm intrigued," I admitted, after a short silence.

"What, because I like glorious and romantic tear-jerkers?"

"Yeah. It's...unexpected. It didn't fit my mental model of you. I had you pegged as an action movie girl."

"I suspect you'll find that I'm much more... fragile... than you seem to think I am," she said. "You see... I have a persona that I... that I've always worn so that I can pretend I'm strong. But... at the heart of it I'm really just another lonely, isolated woman who always seems to end up looking for love in all the wrong places. It's something I'm really good at. You might call it a superpower. Or a curse," she added, bitterly.

She glanced up at me again. "Do you think you could manage pasta, Isla? Or maybe I could use some of your greens and just make us some salad."

"Salad sounds... nice. Can I help at all?"

"No. Please. I'd... like you to sit there and just look pretty for me."

I rolled my eyes at the lopsided smile she gave me.

She began rummaging in cupboards again. "Oh, you have olives," she said. "I love them. They're one of my favourites. My mum's family are originally from Languedoc and some distant cousins still have an olive farm and some vineyards there."

"That's... the very south of France, right?"

"More or less. We used to spend all our summers out there. Back before Dad... no, never mind."

She sighed and rummaged some more.

"Bella?"

"Lets just say that if I came into money I think I'd move out there. Spend my life worshipping the sun and climbing in the Pyrenees. It was heaven on earth for me. It probably would be again."

"Sounds lovely. Could I come and visit you?"

"No."

"No? Really? Why not?" I said, wondering if I should feel insulted or not.

"Because I would take you with me, obviously," she said, glancing up at me once more. "I'm tired of adventuring solo during what small breaks I'm... permitted. It would be good to have a... friend... to make some new memories with."

"Didn't Freya ever..."

"No."

I watched her sympathetically for a moment.

"Well. I think that travelling somewhere warm with a friend like you sounds like an amazing idea."

She gave me a small, sad smile. "Maybe we'll be lucky some day."

"It's a lovely fantasy. Far better than taking it day by day around here. Sun and orchards would be nice, I think."

"Yes. They are. So... salad it is."

She wandered back over to collect her wine, and I watched her as she walked; watched the way she placed each foot with care, and thoroughly enjoyed the way her small breasts shifted gently under the vest with each smooth step...

I gave up.

It was futile trying to deny it any more - I had fallen for her in my old, stupid way.

And I had something that was burning a hole in my chest; that I desperately needed to say to her...

"You really are a gorgeous woman, you know," I said.

She froze, then turned to stare at me, mouth working strangely.

"What... what made you say that?" she stammered.

"I... um... it's just... something I've wanted to say to you since... since I first saw you, I guess. I used to watch you on the walls and at the gym, or on the weights, wishing I was as... beautiful as you... Bella, are you blushing?"

She'd spun away from me.

"No," she answered in a husky voice, after some time. "No. You... caught me off guard is all. I wasn't expecting to hear anything that... nice... about me. Not from... you..."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because... nobody else ever..."

I watched as her shoulders started to shake. She hunched over, holding herself...

Oh.

I kicked off the duvet and went quickly to her.

"Oh Bella. Hey. I'm sorry. Hey. No. Don't. Come here."

"I'm sorry," she choked. "I'm sorry..."

I wrapped my arms around her. I held her to me and rocked her gently from side to side as she shuddered her way through a brief but clearly painful burst of tears. Then I ran my hands gently up and down her back as she slowly sniffed and coughed and struggled her way into a recovery of sorts.

"Shit. Sorry," she whispered again, when she could.

"She really has done a number on you, hasn't she," I breathed.

"Her... and... others," she gulped.

I sighed and pulled her closer again.

"Talk to me. I'm right here."

She shrugged, sniffed again. Then she pushed herself away and wiped furiously at her eyes.

"Sorry for blubbing," she whispered. "It's just... hard... staying tough around you. You... you disturb me."

"Disturb?"

"Unsettle. Make it hard for me to... to breathe, sometimes."

I stared down at her. "But... but why, though?"

"Because you're gentle... and kind, and warm and friendly and lovely and... so unbelievably fucking hot..." she finished with a whisper.

"Um..."

It was innocent. It had to be. There was no way...

I took a slow breath to try to calm myself.

She sniffed again, and wiped her nose. Then she pulled away and tore off a sheet of paper towel so she could wipe her eyes. "I'm not exaggerating when I say that it's been a... a long time since anyone as sweet as you has talked or... been as gentle with me as you are. I... miss it. Sorry. I didn't mean to make it awkward for you. I'm just so... so tired of it all."