Chapter Text
The history of them was something she liked to rewrite when she had the chance. Which, considering that he’d died young and tragically, was more often than you’d think. Only Katie and her mom were brave enough to correct her. Seeing through the sing-song voice that she told all stories in.
Michelle had always been a terrible liar.
The truth of it was this: Bryan had told her that he loved her for the first time when they were sixteen years old. They were hanging out with friends in this dingy little park six blocks away from either of their houses. Some kid dared him to try to walk the bar connecting one side of the jungle gym to the other. It was stupid. The sort of dare bored kids thought of while high from the cheapest weed money can buy. Maybe that was why he’d done it. Ask anyone else, and they’d tell you that he looked at her before saying yes. Ask them again, and they’d say that he always looked at her before doing anything.
Half an hour later, he was lying sobbing with his head in her lap. Face pressed against the thin tights covering her thigh. He’d landed funny when he fell. Broke his leg in three places. New breaks on top of old. Later, when her cousin finally arrived to take them to hospital - god knew his nanna couldn’t afford the price of an ambulance - they’d find out that he tweaked his back. A Chekhov's gun of an injury that would haunt them for years to come.
But they hadn’t known that in the playground. Alone because their friends had cut and run the moment he’d started to scream.
She didn’t really know what to do with him. Caring for people had never been her forte. It was Katie who wanted to be a nurse. All Michelle wanted to do was make enough money to get away from the city and near to whichever national park let her take root. No people. No cars. Just her and the quiet.
Bryan’s nanna ran a little corner store down the street from her house. Beloved enough to keep it from ruining them financially. It wasn’t official, but everyone knew that Bryan would inherit it one day. Michelle had seen him behind the counter enough times to envision him there forever. Old as his nanna. Smiling wide and goofy while he rang people up.
“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” He whispered, eyes clenched shut. He’d been alternating between crying, whimpering and repeating the words ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ over and over, so real words were a nice change.
“No,” she said. Flat. Like most of the things she said back then. Her legs were starting to hurt from sitting cross-legged. It was just like him to drag her into something. She’d told him not to climb the fucking thing. He didn’t have a good enough core to keep that sort of balance. Always swaying and stumbling over nothing. (‘It’s always something with him,’ Katie used to say. As if he meant to do any of it.) “Of course not.
Unsure what else to say, she’d started running her hand through his hair. Soft little movements, back and forth in time with her breathing. It worked to calm the dog down when the neighbours popped their engines too loudly. So why shouldn’t it work with jumpy teenage boys. He'd flinched at first, sucking in a breath as her fingers hit a snag. But then he winced and muttered, “shit. Sorry. You can, uh, you can carry on.”
People thought that Bryan was quiet because he didn’t start shit like the other boys their age, but Michelle had never known him as a person able to shut the fuck up. He punctuated every silence compulsively. Thoughts verbalised before he had the chance to sit with them.
So, when they finally got to the hospital, and he’d been bandaged up and left to sleep off the worst of the pain, she’d been surprised at the calm. His eyes were still red from crying, and he kept looking at her when he thought she couldn’t see him. Mouth pressed into a thin line as he thought.
“This is gonna sound crazy,” he said. Frantic like he might lose courage if he didn’t say it quick enough “But, shit, I think I’m in love with you.”
“You’re high.” She rolled her eyes. “And an idiot.”
“I’m high,” he repeated. “And I’m an idiot.” He was grinning. She wouldn’t know it yet, but he smiled differently when he was high like this. Painful in its wideness. Like it had to be extreme or it didn’t count. “And I’m in love with you.”
She hadn’t said it back, and, for whatever reason, he hadn’t brought it up again until their first date two years later. But she thought about it so much that it had become too sharp in her memory. Thoughts were the opposite to photographs like that. Made vivid from too much exposure.
If Michelle could rewrite it, she’d stop him from climbing up that jungle gym in the first place. He’d have done it if she asked. Took the teasing and the knowing looks and stayed nice and safe on the ground. Maybe then she’d be with him in that corner store. Perfect in the way that only fantasies ever managed to get right.
☣︎☣︎☣︎
It took them a week to get her to Bryan.
The representative, Edgar, had come back the next day with a stack of papers for her to sign. She wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone about what she saw. Not friends. Not family. Not the press. No one. When she got to the facility, she would only be able to see Bryan for a couple of hours a day. Visiting hours were strict. No amount of bargaining would change that.
They’d suggested bringing Briony. Apparently it would be good for him to see them both. Give him something to fight for. She’d put her foot down. It was too far of a journey. Too terrible a situation. When Briony finally met her dad, it wouldn’t be in some hospital at the edge of the world. No, Briony would stay with grandma until she got back. Blissfully unaware of what Michelle would be doing.
The last time Michelle followed Bryan to some hospital a million miles away, her mom had given her an ultimatum. A small part of her was scared that it still stood. Even now. Even after everything.
Now that she was actually there, standing outside of the ward, Michelle felt sick. A panic had been brewing inside her since the moment she sat down on the plane. Building and building until it was pressing against her lungs. Holding them closed so air couldn’t get in. Run. It screamed. You’ve got to run.
“Are you ready?” The nurse asked. It wasn’t the same nurse from the security feed, but it might as well have been. Same pinned blonde hair. Same crisp uniform. Same uncanny smile.
“Yeah,” was all Michelle could manage.
The ward was cast in shadows. Empty apart from the bed Bryan had been set up in. There were six beds on either side of his and another dozen lining the wall opposite. Each of them made up neatly for patients who would never come. Michelle had heard shouting when she came in. The distant sound of pain. But she hadn't seen anyone else. Just staff. Bryan's was the only bed surrounded by glass. Four walls and a low ceiling. The pane at the foot of his bed had a door built into it. Almost invisible if it weren't for the keypad that kept it locked. Michelle watched as the nurse tapped in the code. Four numbers. Beeping melodically in time with Bryan's machine.
“There you go, sugar.” The nurse smiled, gesturing for her to step inside. “Give me a call if there are any problems.”
“What do I do if…” Michelle started, but the nurse had already clicked the door shut. Still smiling, she gave her a nod and headed out of the ward. “Fuck me, I guess.”
Behind her, Bryan stirred. Michelle held her breath, unable to turn around. Paralysed by the idea of what might be there when she did. Edgar had been vague when she’d pushed him for more information about Bryan's condition. The doctor who had greeted her in the lobby told her that it was something he’d breathed in after the explosion. A mix of smoke and dust and whatever the hell he’d found down in the sewer system he’d hidden himself away in. The chaplain told her it was a miracle. Nothing more. Nothing less. And didn’t she feel so lucky to have him back?
She’d started having nightmares about it. Her uncle was always posting grainy videos and AI pictures. Convinced that Umbrella were responsible for every modern-day cryptid captured on film. They were gruesome things. With extra limbs and skin stretched over frames three times the size of normal men. She’d seen Bryan on the security camera, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming him wrong. Standing silently at the foot of their bed. Rows and rows of teeth sharp enough to tear her apart.
But the man in the bed wasn’t a monster. He was just Bryan. Wrapped in bandages from head to toe. Tight around his neck and the left side of his face, leaving his hair sticking out at odd angles. It had grown long enough to fall down his forehead and over his free eye. He'd always hated having it too long. Said he could feel the weight of it.
He was awake today. Blinking lazily as she made her way to the chair on his right side. There was a slit in the bandages around his mouth, leaving space for him to move. His lips looked so raw. Crimson red like someone had peeled them straight off. He rolled his head on the pillow, one long sluggish movement, and stared at her.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Bryan, can you hear me?”
His pupils were blown wide, unfocused as the fingers on his right hand twitched. She’d asked them about his medication, but they’d just insisted that he was receiving the best care. ‘Trust us’, they’d said. ‘We found him, didn’t we? Let us get him back to normal.’
“It’s OK if you can’t.”
His hand twitched again, a groan slipping from between his lips. It sounded brittle. Like a breath caught in the back of his throat. She put her hand on top of his. Gentle enough that it wouldn’t hurt him.
“You’re going to get better. You promised me last time we were here that you weren’t going to do this to me again. You…” She blinked hard, shaking her head. “You’ve got to come home and meet our kid.” His hand twitched again. “She’s pretty great. I know that some kids suck, and their parents have to lie about it, but not her. She’s the best. You’re gonna love her.”
Another groan, closer to a gurgle this time, and she swore that it almost sounded like the start of her name. His eyelid started to droop. Opening and shutting in long, tired moments.
She reached out, tucking hair behind his ear and out of his eye. “You can sleep if you want to, baby. I’m not going anywhere. It’s OK.”
And, if people ever dared to call her heartless, she’d show them that moment. The two hours she spent sitting in complete silence with her ghost of a boyfriend. Holding her breath and praying that the mere act of being there would somehow cure him.
☣︎☣︎☣︎
His nanna had to sell her store to pay for rehab.
It was, when you really looked at it, his twentieth birthday present. Not that he’d been grateful. He’d gotten spiteful towards the end. Skittish like an abused animal. Teeth bared, ready to bite.
“We love you,” His nanna had said at the intervention. “We just want you to get better.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.” He’d spat back, searching the room for someone who still believed him. It was sad how few people had been willing to come. His nanna. Michelle. Some guys from his job at the restaurant. His uncle Jimmy. “This is so fucked.”
He’d made a run for it then. Made it all the way down the block and into an alleyway until he’d hit a chain link fence. As she ran after him, Michelle wondered why she kept doing this to herself. Watching him climb and then fall on his ass had only made that thought more resolute.
“You’re not gonna leave me, right?” He’d asked, looking up from the grimy floor. She hadn’t answered. She was a terrible liar. He knew it as well as she did. “Right.”
She always stopped it there. ‘Right.’ As if there wasn’t more said between them. Venom spat between two people at the end of their ropes. But she’d made a choice never to repeat it. He’d done it for her. The first year at college when she’d started taking coke on weeknights and blown through all her goodwill. Sometimes words can’t be unsaid. But they can be redacted from memory. Forgiven into oblivion.
“It’s not him,” his nanna had said after his uncle Jimmy had driven him away. They wouldn’t see him for a month. The rehab was about as strict about that as Michelle’s parents had been. “We’ve just got to remember that.”
“What if it is him? What if he never changes?”
“He will.” His nanna had said. A prayer and a fact. “He will. He will.”
☣︎☣︎☣︎
“He was in a bad state when we found him,” the doctor explained. It was the fourth guy they’d sent her way. Each more exasperated than the last. “It’s important that you understand that.”
He was young enough to still have a bit of kindness behind his eyes. He looked her in the eyes when he spoke. Saying every word like it came with an apology. A nice guy. Too bad that there was no way he was ever going to last in a place like this.
“The infection got into his organs. His lungs. His heart. His liver.” The list was so long that she tuned out. “Have you ever heard of necrosis?” She nodded, annoyed to be asked. “We had to amputate his left arm and take his eye out. They were beyond saving."
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did no one ask me first? I’m his next of kin.”
“No,” the doctor said. “You’re not.”
“Yes, I am! Bryan's an orphan. I’m the only family he has left. It’s up to me.”
The doctor swallowed, his voice low as he spoke. “Not any more. As far as I can tell, it was changed a while back.” Another doctor entered the hallway, walking towards them. “But that’s not worth talking about.” He raised his voice a little. “What matters is that he’s OK and on the mend.”
He put a hand on her arm, heavy and awkward, and she felt a white-hot rage burn up inside her. That had been happening more and more. Panic burning off into anger. Every identical nurse. Every dismissive doctor. Every fucking visit muddled by them drugging him within an inch of his life.
There was something deeply wrong with this place. Beyond the people and the too thick walls. A rot that she couldn’t wipe off no matter how long she stood in the shower at the end of every day.
She’d stopped calling her mom after the first night. She didn’t like the idea of them having any access to Briony, even if it was by association. Now she got texts letting her know that everything was OK. She’d be back soon. She had to go back soon. Otherwise there wouldn’t be an apartment for Bryan to come back to.
“Are you OK?” Katie had asked. “I’m starting to worry about you.”
“Fine,” she’d replied. “Just busy.”
No one could give her a clear answer on when he’d be well enough to come home. She couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t send him to a hospital closer to home. There were plenty nearby. Good places. Private places. Jesus, she couldn’t even get them to take his restraints off.
“Can I see him today?” She asked the doctor after his colleague had passed by. “Before they give him his meds. Maybe then I can actually speak to him.”
The doctor shook his head. “Look, Ms Thomas, we don’t know if he’s ever going to speak again.”
“It’s really starting to feel like you guys would rather he didn’t do anything again.” She said, fingernails digging into the fleshy skin of her forearms. “I mean, seriously, how is he supposed to get any better when you’re all waiting for him to die?”
Another frown. An answer that didn’t need to be said for her to hear it.
“Just,” she sighed. “Let me see him, please.”
☣︎☣︎☣︎
The first time she’d seen him in rehab, he’d paced the room for ten straight minutes. He’d lost some weight throughout the year he'd been taking and put it back on again while recovering. It was nice, in a way, to see the echoes of him. The boy who’d held her hand while she got her blood taken because she was scared of needles. The boy who told her that he loved her first and then, when she wasn’t ready to say it back, told her it didn’t matter. He’d love her anyway. The boy who’d cried in her lap at sixteen. Scared and so very vulnerable.
“I’m so fucking sorry."
She nodded, “I know.”
“Honestly, fuck me, I don’t even know who that guy was.” He scratched at the back of his neck, still pacing. “I mean, he was me. I’m not tryna say it wasn’t. But, I just…”
She reached out, catching his arm as he sped past her. It jolted him back a little. Just enough to get him to stop and look at her. “I forgive you, alright, just stop fucking moving.”
He looked down at her hand on his sleeve and then back up at her. Eyes wide and full of hope. It hurt to look at. She let her hand drop. Both of them watching it as it fell. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I didn’t think I would either.”
Did it count as a break-up if neither of them talked about it afterwards? If the words had come from some place other than reality. Stolen from versions of themselves that didn’t exist any more. She’d gotten some sleep, and he’d gotten clean. It felt unreasonable to expect them to stick to anything they'd said before.
“I, uh…” he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, sniffing. “It’d make sense if you still meant what you said.” He wouldn’t ask her to stay. Not in here. Not when he was doing so much work to make himself better. “It’d be OK. I’d, uh, I’d be OK.”
She’d never known how to talk to him about this sort of stuff. It wasn’t just him. It was everyone. She was emotionally blocked, or at least, that's what people said. Apathetic. But she wasn’t. Not really. Her face just looked like that in the face of pure, earnest feeling.
“How about you take me for pizza when you’re out,” she said. “We could talk about it then.”
He looked at his feet. “I can’t really afford pizza right now.”
“What’s new?” She snorted, smiling until he returned it. “I’ll buy the fucking pizza. Just get out of here and walk me home afterwards.”
☣︎☣︎☣︎
“He’s lucid today.” The nurse said as they were walking to the ward. “Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed.” Whatever they were feeding these nurses was too much. “We’ve had to tighten his restraints a little, but they’re not hurting him at all. So don’t you worry yourself about that.”
“I wasn’t until you said.”
The nurse laughed. “You’re so funny, sugar.”
Michelle rolled her eyes, keeping a couple of steps behind the nurse as she tapped the code into the keypad and ushered her into the cell.
They hadn’t been lying. Bryan was lucid. Sitting as upright as his restraints let him as he turned his head from side to side. He stopped when he saw her. Mouth twisting as he stared.
“Hey baby,” she smiled. “You’re actually awake.”
For a moment, she felt herself unwinding. The anger. The panic. All disappearing into the familiar sight of his brown eyes.
Then, as if to remind her who and where she was, he started to scream. That violent, raw sound that she’d heard start on the call a fortnight ago. Coming from so deep within him that it bounced off the glass walls. He screamed for so long it made his lips blue. Face twisted as he thrashed against his restraints. Head hitting the pillow over and over again.
Beneath it, she heard the soft sound of a camera lens zooming in. She’d heard it every day she’d visited. Probably would have missed it if she hadn’t. They were watching her. Testing her. Giving her a reason to want him docile again.
“Bryan,” she tried, voice shaking. Her entire body was shaking. It was hard not to. She felt like prey. Heart racing as she was hunted through the woods. “Bryan, please.”
He thrashed so hard it pulled at the wires and sent a monitor tumbling downwards. The smack of it against the floor was enough to make them both freeze. Loud and heavy like a gunshot.
Why was she doing this? She had a daughter at home. One that was already going to grow up without one parent. Too young to understand why her mom was suddenly gone. Bryan might not have wanted her, but he wouldn’t have wanted her alone either.
She stared at him, trying so badly to understand.
“You aren’t gonna leave me, right?”
The nurse was coming back into the ward. Give her a few seconds, and Michelle might not have a choice. They had proven their point. She should have known better than to test them.
No. Fuck that. She wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going anywhere.
She shook her head at the camera, stepping towards the bed to put the monitor on its feet. Bryan watched her. His breathing heavy and manic as she sat down on the chair next to him.
The first time that she’d told him that she loved him was a lot less exciting. They’d been lying in bed early one morning, exhausted from a sleepless night. She'd spent it crying. Which was rare because she treated crying like some people treated sex. Something to be done with the lights off and never to be spoken of again. She'd expected him to be irritated. He usually was when he was tired. But, instead, he'd just kissed her temple and asked if she was OK. It was stupid. The sort of thing that Katie would have laughed about if she'd ever heard the story. The bar, she would say, was literally in hell.
But no one had ever done it before. The few times she'd let herself be that vulnerable around people had been followed with a desire to analyse, correct, or forget. No one ever just listened and let her be. She'd expected him to make a joke. Her mom called him unreliable, but he'd walked two miles in the rain to be with her that night. Ringing his clothes out in her tiny bathroom sink while she ranted about the customer who'd reamed her out at the diner. Katie had asked if she really loved him or loved what he did for her. But that felt reductive. Michelle loved him for all of it. For the sight of him in her doorway on the worst days of her life and the sound of his voice on the phone when they were both working later and couldn't see each other. For the way he made her laugh, and the days they spent picking up the pieces of each other's lives. She loved the way it felt to be wounded next to him and not feel like she had to run. She loved him because it was easy to do.
She loved him because she loved him.
It didn't get much simpler than that.
Staring at him now, she knew it was always going to be that way.
Dead or not. Monster or man. She would love him all the same.
“You wanna scream? Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”
He wasn’t the only one with promises to keep.
“No?” She tilted her head, waiting as his mouth opened and then closed again. “Fucking A." In the corner of her vision, she saw the nurse back out of the room. The camera zoomed again. She didn’t look its way. They didn't deserve her attention. “Now, I'm gonna tell you about our kid again, and you're going to pretend that I've not gone soft in my old age."
The history of them was something that she liked to rewrite when she had the chance. For years, it was the closest thing she'd had to being able to save him. She couldn't bring him back to life, but she could absolve them both of the guilt of their worst mistakes. They didn't have a soft, easy love, but she could smooth down the edges to make it easier to swallow. Something that her daughter might be proud to hear one day. But she didn't need to do that now. He was alive. He was safe.
The history of them was something she liked to rewrite when she had the chance.
And this time it would end when she said so.