Don't let me do this to you,
you are not those other people,
you are yourself

…

This is not a house, there are no doors,
get out while it is
open, while you still can

"Hesitations outside the door" – Margaret Atwood

Alone in this Room with You

I.

There are chains around the door.

A metal noose, they wrap around and around the bars, but they feel like they're around her neck instead. She's having trouble breathing.

She exhales and the sound echoes in her ears. Was it a breath or a scream?

There are chains around the door, but it's not a door – it's a prison.

…

You didn't think about the price Vincent would pay.

His face is obscured by shadows, but she can still make out the scar on his cheek. That was the price of something else. This time, the price is his freedom. Somehow, he's always the one who ends up paying.

She comes to the edge of his cell and kneels down next to him. He's sitting on the floor and she wonders how long he's been there. Hours? Days?

She was always afraid that he would wind up behind bars. She was always afraid that she might have to be the one to put him there. He's in one now, but it's his own doing. He's a better person than she is.

I am getting you out of here, she says, but what she really means is, I'm sorry.

He trusted her to do the right thing, to prevent things from going too far. Instead, she did what she never wanted to do – she let him down.

She let him down because she forgot what he's capable of. She let him down because she was selfish.

She's been so selfish lately, or maybe she always has been. At least, where Vincent is concerned, it seems all she does is take and take and take. He gives her answers, he gives her so many lives saved. And in return, he gets blood on his hands and a cold prison cell.

You shouldn't be here, he says, and she wants to laugh, because from the first day they met, everything was shouldn't. She shouldn't, and he shouldn't, and they shouldn't, but they did anyways and now look where they are.

A sliver of light hits his face and he looks so lonely, so broken. She wants to reach out and touch him, but she's not sure she has that right anymore.

Maybe she never did.

…

It's you, he says, and she wishes she could have heard those words in a different time, in a different place.

It's you, he says, but what she really hears is, it's your fault.

She wanted to be something to him, but not this. Never this.

She places her hand around the bar. It's cold against her skin - is this what he feels like right now?

He turns towards her and there's an ocean in his eyes. When she looks into them, she sees him drowning. She wants to reach out, save him, but then he blinks and it's too late. He's already gone.

This whole time, they thought she needed to be protected from him, but it's really he who needs to be protected, from her.

...

There are chains around the door.

They keep him in.

They keep her out.