Fragile

She was running.

She always ran from her problems, it was nothing new.

She was hiding, like she’d hidden from her fears for all these years. She’d been successful at it too. Why face your fears, why confront your issues, if you can just keep yourself a step ahead of them? Why deal with things if you can push them to the back of your mind and go on pretending nothing is wrong? Why feel human when you can numb yourself and feel nothing at all?

Well, because some people don’t buy it. Some people can see right through the mask, even after it’s held up so beautifully all these years. They can see your fear, sense your hopelessness. When you try to hide, they seek you. When you try to run, they run after you.

And he did. He ran after her.

He always ran after her, it was nothing new.

He’d run after her for years, it was second nature to him now. He knew her so well, so very well, yet, this he never understood. Why did she run? After all this time, all of their talks, all of the time spent together, there were still parts of her that was an enigma to him. She seemed so open at first glance, so bright and carefree. But he saw past that, he’d seen her at her worst. He’d discovered it was a façade, he now knew just how much of a calculating, restrained person she was.

He saw what no one else saw in her.

Pain, regret, humiliation.

He saw it all. But he had no idea where it came from. She kept that part of herself shut off from everyone, even him. But he was tired of standing for it, he deserved to know. He needed to know.

To help her.

“We’re not talking about this.”

He’d heard that from her many times before. Every time he approached the subject, clipped tone included. He wasn’t even sure what subject he was trying to approach, but she was. She knew what he was getting at. He wanted to know why she was the way she was. Why did she shut people out? Why did she look uncomfortable in seemingly harmless situations? He’d seen her go from happy and laughing to tense and withdrawn in seconds before, and it alarmed him. He’d gotten so close before, so near hearing the truth that he could taste it. But then, like every other time, she’d realize how deep she was letting him in, and shut herself down. He hated it.

He refused to let it happen again.

“We need to talk about this,” he insisted, following after her, promising himself that this time he would catch her. It was time that it came out. Something was eating away at her, and intended to stop it.

“No, we don’t.”

“Stop avoiding this!”

She laughed, actually laughed. He was mystified by her, absolutely mystified. How could she laugh at him? Couldn’t she see how worried he was? How much he wanted to help? How God damn serious he was?

“Avoiding it is the only way to get on with life,” she replied, making him shiver. He knew it would happen, he knew that her voice would become hollow, her eyes empty. It did ever y time he pushed her to open up. But even though he knew it was coming, it still hit him hard. He didn’t want to see her this way, he hated it. He wanted her to be happy. Truly happy, not pretending.

“No, it’s not.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering just where he got off telling her that. He didn’t know, he had no fucking idea. He didn’t know what she dealt with, what tormented her, he didn’t know her. Not like he thought he did. And yet he would pretend he knew just what she needed. He would make himself believe he could get inside her head. Granted, he was doing it with good intentions, she knew that. But she also knew the disaster that would come if he knew. He couldn’t. So she’d play his mind games, finding herself amused that this person, this man, this friend so dear to her, thought that he could get into her head and dig out what he wanted. She found it funny that he always thought he was one step ahead of her, so close to finding out. In reality he was three steps behind. He would know nothing that she didn’t want him to know.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffed, unable to find herself angry with him. She could never get angry at him, no matter what he did. He could yell at her, hurt her, break her, manipulate her, but she could never be angry with him.

“Then tell me.”

Tell me. Please, please tell me, he begged with his eyes. She could feel him staring, connecting their eyes in a challenge. She didn’t want to back down, she really didn’t, but she knew the consequences of calling his bluff. He was playing at her pride, her confidence in always being one that was upfront and honest. There was only one exception to her honesty, and this was it.

“I can’t.”

He stopped, stunned at her reply. He’d yet to hear that one. It was usually something more along the lines of no or fuck off or mind your own business. But this, this was new, just like the regret and restraint showing in her eyes. Did she want to tell him?

“You can,” he said affirmatively, chancing walking closer to her. She usually paced when talking about this, whatever this was. She refused to let anyone touch her, refused to look at anyone, especially him. But something was different this time.

Was he breaking her down?

“No,” she said quietly, her bottom lip trembling just slightly as her mask wavered before his eyes. “No, I can’t.”

“Why not?” he found himself asking helplessly. What could possibly prevent her from telling him? He couldn’t think of anything, nothing at all.

“Because I just can’t, ok?”

She was trying to shut herself down now; he could see her doing it. She was trying to calm herself and replace the mask that he was starting to chip away at. He wasn’t going to let her do it, he refused. He would be successful this time. He would help her.

“Please, you can tell me. You know you can,” he insisted, taking yet another step toward his friend, nearly close enough to touch her. He didn’t want to move to fast though, he had no idea what to expect at this point. She was so different, so unpredictable in this moment that he couldn’t even begin to guess what was going to happen. “You can tell me anything. You can trust me.”

“No,” she said in a voice that was so faint and fragile that he felt himself crumble a bit on the inside. This wasn’t the girl he knew. She seemed so breakable in front of him, like just a small breath of wind would send her away. It affected him in a way that he was unaware she was capable of. It stirred something inside him that she’d never brought to life before. He wanted to hold her and protect her, let her know that whatever was hurting her so much would soon be gone. He wanted to make sure it was gone.

“No what?” he questioned with a hurt look in his eyes. She was rejecting him, and for the first time he could remember, that rejection hurt. It hurt a lot. “No you can’t trust me?”

“No. No, I can’t tell you,” she whispered. “I wish… I just can’t.”

“Why?” he demanded, realizing his anger at the helpless look in her eyes. Why would such a strong girl be reduced to such misery? What could have done it? “Why can’t you? What is stopping you? Just tell me what it is! Let me help!”

“You can’t help!” she yelled suddenly. He almost thought she was angry, and he looked at her expecting to see her usual fire. It wasn’t there though. She still had the same cold look about her, the same desolate expression that had taken over her face. The only thing that had changes was her tone of voice. “No one can fucking help. Why don’t you get that? Why won’t you just let it go?”

“Because I care about you,” he answered without a beat. Taking a chance he reached out to touch her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Though the flinch surprised him, he knew if she didn’t want him to touch her, she would have stepped away and began pacing. “I just want to help, in any way I can. Even if it is just knowing what it is that hurts you. You’d be surprised what just telling someone can do.”

“There are some things you just don’t tell people.”

Again he heard it. The hollowness. The despair. He was getting close again, she was near her breaking point. If he could just push her a little further, he knew she would let him in. She would let him help. She would let him be a friend like he was supposed to be.

“Only because you choose not to,” he said quietly, sliding his hand from her shoulder and down her arm to gently circle her wrist. He didn’t want her to take off on him without him knowing, not this time. “Why aren’t you telling?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” he sighed. He was trying so hard to not show his frustration, he knew it would scare her away. That was the last thing he wanted.

“I just-“

“Don’t tell me you just can’t. You can, there’s nothing stopping you. I want to know why you feel like you can’t. Tell me,” he insisted, watching as her body shook with a silent sob. God, he wondered, what could have put her in this state?

“It would hurt them.”

It was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it. In fact, he had to think a moment to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. But when he realized what was said, he knew he had done it. He’d cracked her. He could get her from here. The surrender was evident in her voice. She was letting him in.

“Who? Who would it hurt?” he asked her softly, tugging on her wrist to bring her closer to him. She needed comfort, he knew that. He just wasn’t sure if she was ready to accept it.

“Everyone,” she sniffed. “It would hurt everyone.”

“How?”

“It would ruin their lives. They’d hate me.”

He found himself frowning, wondering just what she was keeping so under wraps? Had she witnessed a murder? Was her family secretly in charge of the mafia? What could possibly have her so scared just to speak about it?

“How would it ruin their lives? Whose lives would it ruin?” he prodded at her, hoping he wasn’t being too direct. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if she ran now.

“It would ruin everything,” she whimpered. “Their whole lives would be fucked up. They’d be so unhappy. And it would be my fault. I don’t want them to hate me. They’re my family.”

She was no longer just sniffling, she was crying. Tears running down her face, sobs wracking her body, crying. He didn’t know how to fix it, he didn’t have a clue. All he knew as that he wanted to fix it, and fast.

“Your family could never hate you-“

“For this they could,” she interrupted, shaking her head violently. She wanted the thoughts out of her head. She just wished they would die, that the memories would melt away and leave her in peace. But she never got peace, not from this. The thoughts plagued her at the worse times, sickening her so much that she had begun to hate herself, knowing that what had happened truly was her fault. If she ruined it all, she was to blame.

But she needed someone, so desperately, that she could confide in. Someone that would understand her. Someone that would know the whole story before they judged her. He would be the perfect person for that. Just how desperate was she for acceptance?

“No, they couldn’t. They adore you. Your mother…”

He trailed off, seeing how much what he had said seemed to affect her. Her sobs were more violent, and he wondered if she was even breathing properly anymore. What had he said? What had upset her so much?

“She’d never look at me again,” she stuttered out between her desperate attempts at air. “She’d hate me. She’d blame me. It was my fault. But I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t,” she tried to explain, wanting him to understand. He needed to understand.

Someone had to understand.

“You didn’t mean to what?”

The answer he got from her was something he’d wished he’d never heard. It crushed him, and took away any words he even knew to say. Few things in his life ever stunned him, but this… stunned didn’t even begin to describe this. It was like someone had punched him in the gut, and all the air left his lungs.

“Let him touch me.”

Four words. That’s all it took. Four words and he found himself in a contradiction. Part of him wished he had never asked, that he never found this out. He wished that he’d never become curious, that he had never pushed her. He wished he’d never become involved. But the rest of him, the dominate section, felt the overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms, to let her cry, and to get revenge on the bastard that had done this to her. So that’s what he did.

“I never meant to,” she continued, her voice barely recognizable through her cries. “I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t understand. I just knew it scared me, and I couldn’t speak against it. He made me think I was sick, that he was trying to help. I figured it was normal. But it wasn’t, I found out it wasn’t.”

She was rambling now, spilling out her soul. Wanting him to know just what had happened, that she really hadn’t meant for it to happen. She’d never wanted it to happen. She wished over and over and over again it hadn’t. She didn’t want him to think she’d encouraged it.

“When I told him to stop, he made it seem like it was my fault. I was so confused. I just tried to block it out, to make it go away. But it never did, it still hasn’t. It fucking eats away at me, every fucking day.”

“Why didn’t you tell?” he asked after finally finding his voice again. “Why didn’t you tell your mom what he had done?”

“I blamed myself,” she sniffed, trying to calm herself down. The sobs were beginning to subside, but the tears were just getting started. There was a great many left to come. “I was ashamed. And she was so happy, she’d just married him. I couldn’t ruin that for her. And that’s if she even believed me…”

“What about your dad?” he asked quickly. He had to understand, how could this have happened and no one noticed? How could no one have seen how hurt she was? How fragile?

“He would have killed him. I didn’t want my dad to go to prison, not over this. I couldn’t lose my mom and my dad, I just couldn’t.”

She was back to sobbing again, as much as she hated it. She couldn’t help it. The thought of one of her parents hating her and the other locked away from her broke her heart. It’s what drove her to keep her secret. It’s also what drove her into such deep depressions.

His heart tugged at him as she cried, becoming so hysterical that her body sunk right toward the ground, pulling him with her. He didn’t know what, if anything, would make this better, but he knew he wouldn’t stop until he found it. He couldn’t let her keep going like this. Now that he’d broken her shell, he could see how it was eating away at her. She wasn’t strong like everyone thought she was, not at all. Once you got past her shell, she was soft on the inside, broken and fragile.

“It’ll be ok Taylor,” he found himself whispering to her as he rocked her back and forth in his arms, wishing her tears would subside, if only for a little while.

She shook her head and mumbled into his chest words that took his breath away.

“It will never be ok, Jay.”

His jaw tightened and he felt his protective instinct toward her kick in even more. He wouldn’t let her hopelessness continue, not anymore. It was over starting now.

“I’ll make it ok,” he said resolutely, tightening his hold on her just slightly. “I promise.”

And as he watched her cry, he found out just how true those words were. Staring at the reflection of the Los Angeles scenery in a lone tear drop that had fallen to the floor, he swore to himself, he would make this ok.