126 Crumble

"Ah…" Antonin muttered, unable to respond for a brief moment. His eyes scan the room for a piece of paper. 

Regan's gaze followed his. "Use the bandage," she advised.

"Huh?" Antonin's eyes are drawn to the bandages laying in the first aid box, "why the bandage?"

"It's possible to have a similar-looking writing on paper but it will be different on a bandage due to the rough surface. I want to compare what it looks like on the same surfaces," Regan explained. She locked eyes with Antonin, "use the bandage."

Antonin gave a quiet nod and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pen. 

Regan's eyes watched him intently as he uncapped the pen. 

"What do you want me to write?" Antonin asked, his eyes looking up at Regan's. There's a bit of conflict in their gaze before he turns back to the bandage. He hated the look in her eye. 

It was distrust. She looked down at him with a twisted gaze, restrained and reluctant, she seemed to wait. It was unpredictable. Her reaction that is. If he had to be honest, he was scared, on edge of whatever she did after he finished writing. The stare she was giving him looked like one that was ready to lose every ounce of reasoning at one single outcome. 

Regan peered at him, her head banging loudly in her chest as she spoke. "'I did this for you, I did a nice job for you didn't I? So don't ruin it. It seems like there's a wound down there that needs to be healed, so don't take off this bandage please-'" Regan muttered, reading off the words on her arm. Her eyes pinned on Antonin, "'For me. For you.'"

Antonin knew that line. He had written it but now somehow as he heard it out loud, it made no sense. Like a story without context, the words were empty vessels made to hold depth. They were light, lighter than a feather. He could feel it now as he heard her read it out loud.

He didn't know what was under the bandages, he didn't even know what he was stopping her from opening, he didn't even know what he meant to her. How dare he… 'How dare I, say that?'

He was taking something that wasn't his, a memory he barely understood, and making it his. 

His hand began to write, putting down her words on the bandage. He hated it, he hated lying but he had no choice. But-

He finished the sentence on the bandage and looked up at Regan who was looking down at the bandages with widened eyes. 

But.. the worst part, was that he didn't even know why he had no choice. 

Regan looked at the bandage and then to the one on her wrist. Her eyes fell, dimming immediately as her hand fell limply to her bed. 'He did it… he saw…' she thought to herself. 

"Antonin," Regan called out.

"Hmm?" Antonin replied, his eyes unable to look at her. 

"Did you write this?" she asked.

"Yes," Antonin replied. 

"Antonin?" Regan called out.

"Hmm?" Antonin responded.

"Did you see it?" Regan asked.

Antonin's head hung low, hiding it from Regan. He bit his lips shut. 

There was no reply.

"Ah.." Regan murmured, her head turning to face the ceiling. She stared at the grey murkiness, her mind emptying. 'He saw it… he saw… he saw the cuts..' she thought to herself. 

A smile slowly crawled onto her face and she burst into laughter, her face twisting into pained laughter, her heart growing 5 times heavier. "HAHAHAHA," she chortled, "hahahaah... hahaha... Haha… ha." Her eyes tightly shut, holding back tears.

'Haha.... how shameful,' 

They sat in each other's presence for minutes, uttering no words. They were each in their own world, spiraling down their own tunnels, digging their own pits. A presence of two but each felt cold. It was silent in the room.

Antonin stood up from his seat, his eyes dimmed but he was fully in control. The air was stifling him, he couldn't breathe. 

"I'm going to go get the lunch cart," Antonin muttered, standing up from his seat. 

Regan's ears perked up at his words. 'He's leaving you,' her voice whispers in her ears, 'look how quickly he's running now. You just had to bring it up, didn't you? You had to create this silence, you had to act this dumb, you had to disappoint him.'

Antonin turned to leave and before Regan knew it, she was reaching out to him, her hand holding on to his sleeve.

"Wait…" she muttered.

'What are you doing? Trying to keep him from running? It's it too late for that? Imagine what he feels right now. Annoyed, disgusted, betrayed. This is all because of you. All because of your scars, all because of your stupid words,' the voice muttered, 'don't hold him back. You have no right to. He's still going to leave anyway, don't try to make him stay, let him leave. You deserve it.'

"What is it?" Antonin looked down at her hand.

Regan looked away, retracting her hand. "N-nothing… It's nothing. I was just wondering what was going to be on the menu today."

Antonin smiled painfully, "We'll see won't we?"

Regan nodded, faking a smile. "Yea… we'll see."

Antonin dusted his butt and walked towards the door, turning back to wave at Regan. "I'll be right back, before you even realize I was gone."

"Hmm, yea I'm sure you will," Regan grinned. Her lips twitched, her smile wavered. He stopped smiling. 

Antonin turned around and pressed his hand into a little metal box next to the door. "Bai baii hope it's spaghetti."

"Hehe, sure do," Regan waved back and watched as Antonin disappeared behind the door. 

'Fucking pathetic,' the voice muttered, 'that's what you are.'

Regan's head lowered and she crawled up into a ball. It was so humiliating, it was so stifling. Everything about this moment seemed to eat at herself. At the bandages on her arms, at the wounds beneath them.

At first, it seemed like a lie. His words matched, but they seemed wrong, they felt wrong coming from him. The way he delivered his words felt wrong and there were holes in his story. 

From when he explained carrying her, she felt something was wrong. He had called her heavy, said he almost dropped her but that was completely different from what she felt. 

The stranger, whoever that was, felt so calming, so steady. His arms around her felt like walls that protected her and his heart beating steadily. His steps were stable and everything about that moment just felt... Solid. There was no moment of hesitation, no moment of quivering or struggling. The stranger carried her effortlessly. 

Then came the touching ordeal, when he mentioned touching her. His way of explaining was wrong. The stranger had asked if he could touch her and later complained about it so there was nothing wrong with him complaining. It was with his sentence after. 'I had to make sure I got it across to you,' it almost seemed like he was saying it for the first time. That was confirmed when he didn't mention the fight they had. 

If he had said it before, he would have said, 'I had to make sure I got it across to you again,' instead of his comment before and more so, he would have pointed out the fact that he said it before by adding that he argued with her about it. But he didn't.

There were moments that he missed. Ones that he wouldn't if he really "liked" her like he had made known. Even his words were less full than before. The moments where she remembered him being in, he is able to describe vividly but the ones that he isn't part of, it seems like he just says them loosely. Almost like a summary. 

The name… even the name mentioned didn't make sense. But then again, that wasn't a trustable thing to rely on as the stranger could have very well been lying about what he said. What was trustable, was the tone. The tone was VERY much not like what Antonin would sound like. Especially the way he described them. If he was in that moment, his voice would have trembled, his words would have been stuttered a bit. 

The stranger's words didn't seem like something he would say, they would sound stiff if said out loud. Antonin wasn't one for stiff words. 

The memories matched but the way he said them didn't, they didn't add up to what happened. It seemed like a lie. Turns out she was the one that was lying to herself.

'No wonder he didn't mention those things, no wonder he wouldn't explain them in the same way. He saw the wounds after all. That would take the spirits out of anyone and make them close off a bit,' Regan thought to herself, 'I would hate to have to look back on a memory like that myself, it would seem like a punishment honestly. To have to remember seeing slashes against someone's wrist… it would have been disgusting.'

Tears ran down her cheeks slowly. 

'The way he reacted… it said everything I needed to know,' Regan choked up, her tears speeding up as they rushed down her cheeks. 'He.. couldn't even speak about it… imagine… imagine how disgusted he must have been.'

She let out a small broken scream of self-hate.

'Imagine having to deal with that memory yourself. How revolting… how repulsive you are Regan. Look at what you've become,' Regan thought to herself. 

She turned around and laid on her back, raising her hand to the ceiling, looking at the bandages on her arm. 'Look at the mess you've become. A mutant, a monster. Pathetic.'