The underground parking for Leo's building was big, even for Vancouver standards. It stretched into the near distance in lines of cement and pipe.
I opened the car door, tentative about putting weight on my bad leg. Leo glanced up from handing his keys over to the valet. In an instant, he was next to me, holding me by the elbow.
"I'm fine," I protested, aware of the valet's gaze.
"Then humor me," he said.
The elevator ride stretched for long minutes, the numbers slowly ticking upwards. I noticed, with some amusement, that the thirteenth floor didn't have a call button— the floors skipped from twelve to fourteen.
We finally stepped off into a spacious living room. The back wall was not, in fact, a wall, but a window, showing off the view of the city and the bay. There was a large kitchen, and a second floor that opened out onto a mezzanine. The whole place seemed empty and lifeless. The furniture was sparse and harsh-edged. Modern, but lacking heart.
"I stay here when I'm working on big projects. I have a house out in the country that I'll take you to as soon as I have a few things settled here. It's much more comfortable, but far less convenient." Leo watched me as I took in the apartment.
I studied the gorgeous room, and nodded, gravitating towards the huge window. "How long will we be here?" I asked, stepping onto the plush carpet. I stumbled a little as my leg adjusted. I had been re-learning to walk on linoleum, and the slippery surface threw me off balance.
"Two weeks, three at most. Oh, Ruth, don't go near-"
He stopped as I touched the cool glass. Outside, where there had once been huge buildings, there were only piles of concrete. Made miniature by the distance, search and rescue dogs roved the rubble. First aid and police vehicles made a blockade between them and a mob of protesters.
"What happened?" I whispered. "Please, Leo, tell me." My voice broke, and I swallowed hard. I could feel the memories below the surface, trying to get out.
"No. It's for the best you don't know. Once I get you away from of the city, you'll have more of a chance to heal mentally, before I fill you in."
I crumpled to the floor, images of my parents underneath tonnes of cement and steel and glass filing my head. "Tell me." I breathed.
Leo reached his hand down, the tattooed rose filling my vision-and all at once, I was remembering. The fear on my mother's face as the wave of concrete swallowed them. Choking on cement dust. A newsvendor, shoving me out of the way, seconds before he, too, was covered by the wall of concrete.
Leo, standing in the road, even as buildings fell around him.
"Ruth." Leo said, kneeling next to me. "It's alright, you're safe. Breathe." There was panic laced through his voice.
"I remember."The memory of the dust throttled me. "I remember everything."
Leo pushed his sleeves up. A strange script along his left forearm was revealed, and he dragged a finger along it. "They said you would remember, if there were enough triggers. Visual reminders, they said. I should have blacked out the window." He was pacing now, hands gesturing. He walked to the window, and smacked it with his palm. The sound of his skin against the glass startled me, and I gasped.
"I don't want to see it." I buried my face in my hands, turning away from the window. Leo knelt next to me.
"Why did this happen?" I asked, my words almost inaudible.
"I don't know, Ruth, I really don't." Leo said. "I wish I could tell you. I don't think there's an answer. I don't know if there ever will be."
My face dropped at his words. Somewhere, I had been holding onto the hope that there was someone accountable for the horror. Someone who could pay, even in the smallest way, for what had happened to me, to my parents.
But I knew the truth now, and my chest burned with the fire of it.
A phone dinged from Leo's pocket. I watched as he read the text, pinching the bridge of his nose. Leo looked at his phone, and shook his head.
"You can go if you need to. I don't want to keep you from your work," I said, struggling to keep my voice even.
Leo stared at me for a long moment, and set his phone down. "Right now, you're more important. Can you walk?"
I tried to push myself up off the floor, the muscles in my injured thigh were already screaming.
"No," I said. "I don't think I can even get up." My voice fell flat, throat raw from crying.
"Give me your hand," Leo said, reaching down to help me. "I have your painkillers in the kitchen."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face changed my mind. I took his outstretched hand, his rings cold against my palm. Gritting my teeth, I climbed to my feet, Leo steadying me with one arm.
The short walk to the kitchen left me out of breath, and I sank heavily onto a bar stool. Leo set a glass of water and two white pills in front of me.
I stared at them for a moment, debating whether or not to take them. The doctors kept me sedated for weeks in the hospital, and I was only just beginning to regain some real lucidity.
"Take them," Leo said gently. "They can only help."
After another moment of hesitation, I took the pills. They burned as I swallowed, leaving a bitter taste on the back of my tongue. I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, trying to stave off the impending haze.
"I need to sleep," I blurted, taking myself by surprise. "Please."
"It's not a bad idea. Come with me." Leo stepped out from behind the counter. "You're just down the hall here."
The room at the end of the hall held the same cold, empty feeling as the rest of the apartment. A bed sat in the middle, outfitted in white sheets. A piece of black fabric marred the pristine quilt.
"We managed to save the sweater you were wearing when I found you." Leo picked up the black fleece.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I took it from him. It was immaculate, in better condition than I had ever left it. The faded embroidery on the left side scratched my cheek as I pressed it to my face. It had been a thrift store find, and one of my favorite pieces of clothing. I could hardly believe it had survived.
"I'll let you get some rest," Leo said, taking hold of the door. "I'll be just outside if you need me."
I waited until his footsteps had faded before yanking the black sweater over my head, marveling in the feeling of it on my skin again. If nothing else, at least this was mine. I crawled under the plush covers, pulling them over my head.
The sobs that had threatened all day broke free in a strangled, inhuman sound. I buried my face into my pillow to stifle my cries. A piece of my heart had been left behind in that rubble, and the pain of its absence was a pain the opiates couldn't touch.
I cried until I had no tears left, until my face felt swollen and tender. Time slowed as the pills began to take effect, and I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take me.
I just wanted the day to be over.
"Get down!" The newspaper vendor shoved me out of the way. A split second later, a solid wall of concrete came thundering down, throwing me backwards. I tried to reach for my parents, but something was holding me in place. When I looked down, my hands came away from my leg wet with blood.
"Mom!" I screamed. "Dad!"
"Ruth!" Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Ruth, wake up."
I jolted upwards, crying and striking out at anything within reach. A strong hand grabbed my wrist. "Help!" I howled, trying to push myself to the back of the bed. "Someone help!"
A lamp flickered on. The room was cast into warm light. Leo was sitting on the edge of my bed, his hand pinning my arm. He looked sweaty and tired, as though I had woken him.
"It was a dream. You're alright," he said.
My heart was still racing, and my back was sticky with a cold sweat. I pulled at my arm as I realized he still was holding my wrist, frowning.
"Did I hit you?" I asked, guiltily. "Oh god, I'm so sorry." Tears built in my eyes. I dashed them away, ashamed to be crying yet again.
"You didn't get me, it's alright," Leo said, and let go of my wrist.
His words only brought on a fresh bout of sobs. My eyes felt swollen and raw as I cried into my hands. I shook, trying to calm down. The room seemed to close in around me. Frustration and shame bloomed in my chest as I curled in on myself, panic surging through me.
"I'm okay," I said, my voice small. "You can go back to bed. I'm sorry if I woke you."
Leo held me back by my shoulders, and studied my face, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of it. I shifted underneath his gaze, averting my eyes.
"I don't think you are, Ruth."
I sank back down in my bed. "Leo, really, I'm okay. It was a bad dream. I don't want to be a bother."
To his credit, Leo didn't argue with me. He nodded, and stood up. "When you're ready to talk, let me know."
"Wait."
He turned from the doorway, watching me expectantly.
"Can you leave the door open?"
Leo closed his eyes, and an indiscernible emotion flashed across his face. He let the door handle go, leaving the door to swing wide. The hallway was dark, marred by the yellow glow of streetlights coming in through the patterned glass. The dotted lights of lit office buildings were watchful eyes in the night.
I fell into a fitful sleep, drifting in and out of nightmares. They left me paralyzed, my body sleeping but my brain wide awake.
The second my body was back under my control, I sat up. My throat was burning with thirst. I was sweating beneath the thick duvet Leo had placed over me. I winced when I stood, but if nothing else, the codeine assuaged the pain in my leg. I could stand and walk with only a hint of a limp.
I eased through the open bedroom door, flinching when the floorboards creaked. The whole apartment was dark-the clock behind the stove read past one in the morning. Everything was eerily silent— no rush of traffic came from the city below, no wind blowing through branches.
I grabbed a glass from the high cupboards, raising onto my tiptoes to reach.
When I turned the tap on, blood gushed from the spout, coating the inside of the glass. Horrified, I slammed the tap off, stumbling backwards. The glass hit the edge of the counter and shattered, shards flying everywhere. I held my breath, listening for movements from upstairs. When I heard none, I knelt, and began picking up the pieces.
I grabbed a shard, and held it, confused. What should have been bloody was clean, glinting moonlight off the sharp edge. I closed my hand into a fist over the broken glass, hissing as it sliced through the delicate skin on my palm. I sat like that for what felt like hours, squeezing my fist tighter and tighter. Blood dripped onto the dark wooden floor, puddling and spreading with every second.
"Ruth!" Leo yelled from the balcony above, and footsteps thundered towards me. I jumped at the sudden sound, and the glass hit bone.
His hands found my face, and then pried at my fist, trying to open it. "Ruth, what in god's name are you doing?" he asked angrily.
I sat like a statue, unmoving. My muscles would not yield, and soon his fingers were as bloody as mine. The pain began to register in my mind. I let the glass go. It hit the ground with a muffled thud.
Leo took my hand and opened my fingers. I collapsed against him as air hit the wounds, my nerves screaming. Blood pooled once again in my palm. Leo reached for a tea towel , and wrapped my hand in it, yanking it tight. Crimson stained the white. I stared at it in shock.
"I have a first aid kit in my bathroom." Leo said, his voice soft and angry, "Wait here. Don't you dare touch any more of that glass."
I sat on the floor, my hand wrapped in a now sodden towel, and cried. Whatever I had seen, or whatever I had thought I had seen had shaken me. Whether it was the effect of the drugs still in my system, or if it was some fresh hell that the trauma of the past few weeks had brought on me; either way it didn't matter. The end result was the same.
Leo reappeared, holding a white plastic box and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He set it on the clean side of the sink, and carefully helped me sit on the counter.
"Sit there while I clean up," he instructed. He swept the glass from the counter and the floor into a brown paper bag, and threw it down the trash chute. He didn't glance up even once. I blinked away hot tears. Self pity was the last thing I needed right now.
"Give me your hand," Leo demanded, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. I faltered, and Leo grabbed my wrist. "Now, Ruth."
I yelped when he pulled the towel away, the fibers sticking to the coagulated blood. The tears in my flesh were deep, still weeping blood. Leo poured alcohol onto a gauze pad, and, holding tight to my arm so I didn't jerk away, wiped the blood from my skin. I screamed in agony as the gauze touched the deepest of the cuts, but Leo didn't stop for a second.
"Will it need stitches?" I asked, as he tossed the used gauze away.
"No," he said tersely. "Hand."
I held it out again, and he layered strips of white bandage across the edges of the wound, sealing them closed. Finally, he let me draw my hand back to my chest. I cradled it to me, not meeting his eye. "You need to explain yourself, little one." He said, his voice pitching up. He had never spoken to me like that, and I felt myself wilt.
"It was an accident." I mumbled. "I dropped the glass and it broke."
Leo shook his head. "No. I figured that much myself. Why did you have the glass in your hand, and why wouldn't you let it go?" His fingers drummed next to me, the staccato sound drowning out my hiccupping breath.
"I don't know." I squeaked out.
"Not good enough. Do I need to take everything sharp out of this damn apartment, Ruth? Can I trust you alone? There's something you're not telling me, and whatever it is, I can find out. I have more spies, and more intelligence agents than the government. If you won't tell me, I'll find out."
"No, you won't." I snapped back. "I'm the only one who knows, and short of torturing me, you can't make me tell you."
Leo stilled, watching me. I regretted my outburst immediately
"Ruth." He said, and lifted a hand. I cringed away, and his eyes flickered with some unfathomable emotion. "I won't hurt you." he assured me, threading his finger through my own. "I'm here to help you."
"It's not something I can tell you." I tipped my chin up. Leo looked ready to argue, but he sighed and dropped it.
"For now." He relented. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he turned to press a kiss to my hair. "For now, Ruth."
I let myself settle, comfortable, against his side. It was a dangerous game I was playing, allowing myself to trust this man, but I didn't care. My soul for a few moments of peace and affection.