Love Me Then Destroy Me

Point of View: Lana

Sleep does not come easily.

The ceiling above me stays sharp and steady, every minute, fissure and shadow visible in the low light. My body rests, but my mind refuses to settle. Each time I close my eyes, the same emotion returns. Not an image. Not a recollection. Just a sense of being close to something I cannot achieve.

I hear footsteps outside the door. Soft. Measured. Nurses changing shifts, carts passing past, gentle voices keeping the night tranquil. This location is designed to cure, yet it feels like a waiting area between two lives.

I shift onto my side and push my hand on my chest. My heart is beating steadily now, but it feels like it's protecting me instead of working for me.

It comes softly when daybreak comes.

When I wake up, the curtains are open. The room is full of warm, gentle sunlight. For a second, I almost forgot where I was. Then I move, and the dull pain in my brain brings it back to me.

Someone knocks on the door.

Yes," I say.

A different nurse comes in when it opens. More old. Calm. She smiles as she deserves it.

She says, "Good morning, Lana." "How are you doing today?"

I think about it before I answer. "Clear," I say. "And tired."

She nods as if she understands. "That's true. The doctor will come by later. "You are getting better."

Getting better. The term sounds promising, but not complete.

I gently get up when she goes. During the day, the room doesn't seem as scary. There was only a bed, a chair, a little table, and a window. Nothing tells me how my life fell apart.

The door opens again, but this time it's quieter.

Adrian goes in.

He stops when he sees me sitting up. "Is this all right?" he says.

Yes," I say, and then I say, "You can come in."

He does, yet he stays away. He looks nicer today because he has a clean shirt and rolled-up sleeves. Still sleepy, but more stable.

He holds up a paper cup and adds, "I brought you something." "Tea." They said that was okay. I get it from him. Our fingers are almost touching. Almost. The cup's heat warms my hands.

Thanks.

He sits and watches me closely, as if he is listening even when I am not talking.

I had a weird night, I say.

Me too, he says.

That makes me stare at him. "You didn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Not much."

Because of me.

Yes, he says simply.

I don't know what to do with such honesty, so I drink the tea. It has a calm and grounding taste.

I keep thinking that I should feel something stronger," I say. Anger. Fear. Love. Something that is clear.

And you don't, he says.

I feel a lot of little things, I say. They pull in different ways.

He shakes his head. "That's how it was for me after the crash as well."

I frown. "You were hurt."

Not like you, he says. "But yes."

There is a break. I can tell that he is not saying anything.

I ask, "What are you afraid to tell me?"

He looks at his hands, then back up. "That you might not choose me when you regain your memory."

The words settle between us, weighty and quiet.

I don't think that's a fear," I add. That sounds like respect.

A little smile crosses his lips. "It feels like fear."

Not long later, the doctor comes. He talks about scans, progress, and being patient. I answer inquiries. Adrian doesn't say anything; he just looks at my face instead of the doctor.

The room feels different when we're alone again. More charged.

Adrian continues, "They want to move you to a private room." Less noise. Fewer interruptions.

I don't know. Will you still be here?

If you want me to, he replied and  I nod. "I think I do." The move is gradual. There are hallways that go by. Doors open and shut. The new space doesn't feel like a place where people just pass through; it feels more like a place where they live.

Adrian puts my stuff down next to the bed. I wasn't aware I had a bag.

What's in it?" I inquire. He says, "Your things. Clothes. a book and our phone.

I interjected "My phone."

He gives it to me gingerly, as if it could break. I flip it over with my hands. It looks familiar, but it doesn't mean anything.

"Do I want to look?" I ask.

He doesn't say anything for a while. "That depends on what you're ready for."

I put it down without turning it on. "Not yet."

He seems happy.

After lunch, I barely touch anything and sit by the window while Adrian stands close. The world goes on outside. Cars go by. People are walking. Nobody knows my name.

Can I ask you something? I say.

"Yes."

Were we happy before the accident? I start.

He shuts his eyes for a short while. "Yes." And no.

I wait.

He goes on, "We loved each other." "But love doesn't make things less tense. We were attempting to make things better.

What kinds of things?

"Trust," he says. "Fear." Old scars.

The lyrics resonate with something deep inside me, but I can't say why.

I don't feel broken,I answered softly. I feel like I'm paused.

That's fair, he says in response.

It's evening again. The light gets softer. Shadows get longer. Adrian gets ready to go.

You don't have to,I say.

I know," he says. But you need to sleep.

He stands by the door, not sure what to do.

"Adrian," I say.

He turns.

I ask, "Will you still stay if I don't remember?"

He looks me in the eye. "Yes." Even if you never do.

Something in my chest relaxes.

I pick up my phone again after he departs. I turn it on this time.

The screen comes on. A picture shows up. A woman with my face is smiling at the camera and tilting her head slightly toward the person holding it.

Toward him.

I can't breathe.

A knock at the door stops me from scrolling any further.

I lock the phone and look up, my heart racing.

The past is closer than I imagined it was.