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Upon coming home, she shut out the world.
Theoretically, they had all gotten out of the facility, but Leah hadn’t escaped the four walls that had kept her company for weeks, the suffocating loneliness that used to be bliss before the island.
It all made her want to curl up and decay. All the fight she had in her had evaporated upon hugging the girls she spent months surviving with.
So after hours that sped by like mere seconds, her brain not processing a second of it like when got on the plane months ago. But this time it’s not out of disinterest but out of mere incompetence, she said her goodbye's and got into a car with her parents, driving away from everything.
Dawn of Eve has left its mark. A big ugly scar that keeps growing, clawing under her skin, breaking out in the form of screams of terror in the comfort of her own bedroom when the nightmares get to her.
Breathing heavily, she turns on the nightlight to see her surroundings. The four walls that greet her don’t bring the happiness of solitude to her, but instead, some part of her hopes that her parents heard her scream, so they can enter her room filled with the worry that used to annoy her endlessly. Maybe she could finally let out all this pent up pain in the safety of her mom’s arms.
Steadying her breathing, she listens for signs of life, maybe soft footsteps or a soft whisper at her door, but the eerie quiet (aside from the drowned out sounds of the city) remains as her only comfort.
So, shaking off the need for comfort and love, she turns off the light and lays back down, staring up into the darkness. She reaches for a spare pillow next to her and cradles it in her arms.
Tears well up in her eyes. She started doing this in the bunker, hugging a pillow to simulate safety, to keep herself from completely losing her mind.
She never was a touchy person, at all. Not even with Jeff. But the island changed her, and now it feels like touch is as much of a need as breathing and sleeping.
If there is a God, he must be laughing his ass off at this decaying being she’s become. Craving love and comfort but not able to get out of this house without feeling like her chest is being ripped apart and her stomach pushing up acid like she’s allergic to fresh air, like, after all the time on the island, she can’t be away from home again.
But this isn’t home. It’s a shell of what it used to be. Her dad doesn’t talk anymore, just keeps himself busy by toying away at his car and mowing the lawn every time the grass grows a millimetre. Her mom is one minor inconvenience away from breaking down and falling apart, with nothing to possibly glue her back together again.
The island wasn’t home, it was hell, but the people with her there, the other unlucky souls who Gretchen chose, they were home.
They are home.
And much like the island left a mark on her, so did they.
But they didn’t leave her a scar, but a protective layer her heart had been dipped in, but it hadn’t been fully covered by it, leaving the Achilles heel exposed to them. And every day she didn’t talk to them left a tiny needle in it.
They are the reason she’s hugging a pillow.
They are the only reason she is still alive.
Some drunk kids walking by her house snap her out of her thoughts, and she realizes that there are tears running down her cheeks.
Wiping them away, all she can think about is that back on the island Fatin always wiped them away for her, and she’d hold her and tell her that everything would be fine.
Before she can even really think about what she’s doing, she’s sitting on the side of her bed and her thumb is hovering over the call button on Fatin’s contact.
It’s 3 AM, and it’s absolutely ridiculous to even think that Fatin would want to talk to her, or even pick up the phone.
For weeks, Leah has ignored all attempts at contact by the group. She didn't respond to messages and calls. Most of them stopped trying after a few days, but Fatin was persistent. She had lasted till the two-week mark, that’s when she texted:
please just text me when you can
im worried about you
and stopped trying to reach out.
She stares at the phone screen until it goes black.
The thought of calling Fatin was impulsive, but she can’t shake it off.
The island left a scar, and the girls left an extra layer on her skin, but Fatin’s touch made flowers bloom on her skin and her words made her mind a garden.
Fatin was different, the girl who she thought was a vain egocentric bitch, but who turned out to be the person she needs the most.
From hating her to impulsively kissing her one night. From one kiss to another. From being reunited to radio silence.
I'm here for you, whenever you need me, okay?
She turns her phone back on, and closes her contact list, opting for a text instead of a call because of the time.
Her thumbs type on autopilot.
Hey, are you awake?
Maybe it’s the stupidest thing she could have sent, but it’s out of her control now, cause Fatin is already typing.
yeah, you okay?
A million different things she could say race through her mind, but she wants to say those things in person, not over text at 3 in the morning, so she goes for the straightforward approach.
No.
I need you.
Fatin responds within seconds.
omw
The fact that Fatin is so willing to be there for her makes tears form in her eyes for the second time, but she tries to keep herself from becoming a blubbering mess for now.
She turns on the lights and tiptoes through her room, throwing on a blue sweater and some black sweatpants, and grabs her keys and phones before sneaking downstairs and out the front door.
Her hands are sweaty and her mind is filled with so many thoughts, so many possibilities.
But when the red sports car stops right in front of her, she suddenly can’t think.
The window rolls down, and she’s staring right into tired brown eyes.
“You gonna get in?” Fatin says playfully, but all Leah can think about is how much she’s missed her voice.
With a shaky hand, she opens the door and slips into the seat, her heart hammering in her chest.
Neither of them says anything, and for a moment it’s quiet aside from their breathing, then Fatin starts driving again, turning on the radio up just slightly to fill the heavy silence.
Staring out the window, Leah looks at the things they pass, to somehow ground herself again. Because this was all impulsive, like a primal need for Fatin’s comfort, but now that she’s actually here, she doesn’t know what to do or say.
There are many things she should say, like sorry , and I love you , and I needed some time to process everything and I made the mistake of thinking that I could live without you but I can’t .
After what could be five minutes or an hour, they arrive at a small grassy hill, and Fatin parks her car, unbuckling her belt.
Leah follows, getting out of her seat. She’s met with the cold fresh air and she realizes that it doesn’t hurt as much as the last time she left her house. Maybe it’s a sign that time heals all wounds, maybe those hours in therapy aren’t useless.
She turns to look at Fatin and sees that she has spread a fluffy blanket over the front of her car, and she’s sitting on it.
So, she walks towards her and sits down next to her, looking at the view of the lively city.
The tension only builds up, and she can feel Fatin fidget with the blanket, but before she can finally say something, a hand grabs her arm.
As she turns to look at Fatin she realizes two things at once, that she was picking at her eyebrow again and that their faces are really close together now.
It makes Leah realize that Fatin isn’t wearing makeup, and that there are bags under her eyes.
Fatin slowly lets go of her arm, but Leah doesn’t stop looking at her.
“Leah-” Fatin starts, her voice rough, but Leah can’t let her.
“Stop. I want to go first.”
It shuts her up, and Leah takes a deep breath before diving into the deep end.
“I’m sorry for shutting you out. I needed some time to process things and it just all felt like I was drowning and I didn’t want to drag you or any of the others down with me. But, I realised that I need you. I need you so much and it scares me because I haven’t needed someone since,” she lets a silence fall because she doesn’t want to say his name, and she knows Fatin understands, “And I don’t want it to be like it was with him, and I know it won’t be because you’re not like him, but still I had to work on myself first. And I should have told you that, but I just couldn’t. So here I am, asking for a chance.”
She takes a deep breath after that, looking at her hands in her lap.
“Wow.”
Leah looks up to see that old familiar smirk on Fatin’s face, but there’s still some uncertainty in her eyes.
“I didn’t expect to get a full-on love confession tonight, but damn you know how to give one,” Fatin says teasingly, her hand reaching out and ghosting over Leah’s cheek, “And you’re right, it would have been nice to know instead of you just ghosting me, but I get it,” she continues, her voice becoming softer every word, “and yes, I want to give this a chance, as long as we take it slow.”
And with that, everything that had been building up inside Leah just crashes down, and she basically crashes into Fatin and hugs her, clinging onto her like she’ll disappear if she lets go. Unstoppable tears spill from her eyes and she inhales the safe scent of Fatin’s expensive perfume.
And Fatin holds her just as tightly, just as desperately.
Eventually, their death grips loosen and Fatin starts threading her fingers through Leah’s hair, humming a song Leah doesn’t recognize.
She’s safe, safer than she’s ever been.