Do not Despair Because All is Not Easy

This scene is from the last finished futuristic, survival, romance Zone novel. Warning: It is not a lyrical as some. The book ends well. Villians vanquished. True love wins out, etc. The woman known as Ama is Helena's nanny/mentor/governess from birth on.

Excerpt from "In The Zone: Pitin's Problem" by Blatant Appeal

"I remember shaking.” Helena looked forward, her tears still not falling. She fell silent.

“Finish this story,” he commanded, hating every syllable. He needed to hear it all.

“Ama shut down the light she held. She told me I would be expected to stay until I had mastered balance on the wall. I stood up and began to feel the way with my toes. I walked forward, sideways, backward, always quicker and faster.”

“The sun rose, but so did the wind. I tried to keep going, but it was colder and on one turn, as I was backing up, I missed a step and didn’t come down on my other foot as boldly as I should have. I fell.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How badly?”

“I broke my leg.”

Pitin’s tension eased—she hadn’t been badly hurt. He had imagined worse. “You fainted, then what?”

“Fainted?” Helena tried to figure out where his erratic thoughts were leading him this time. “What does that mean?”

“Passed out. Blacked out. Lost consciousness.” he explained. At her continued look of incomprehension, he said hopefully, “from the pain of breaking your leg? The darkness?”

“I did not ‘faint’ from breaking my leg or the fall. Ama picked me up and wrapped my leg properly before my punishment.”

Pitin kept his mouth closed. Barely. Only the sure knowledge that he was in the middle of a Helena conversation, with no hope of reaching the conclusion if he pummeled her with comments expressing his outrage, kept the questions that were shooting out of his brain from his lips. Almost.

“For breaking your leg?”

“No. For falling.” She couldn’t look at him. Now he would know another imperfection.

Pitin watched as Helena looked down at her lap. Her posture revealing…shame? Her voice continued in a much lower tone.

“I didn’t learn the lesson of balance at that time because my mind was on the cold.”

He couldn’t take much more of this line of query. Mind healers didn’t get paid near enough to listen to this kind of recounting. He took a large breath and forcing his jaw to unlock, spoke quietly, “Go on. Tell me about the darkness.”

“After Ama wrapped my leg, she took me to the revealing room. She pulled the darkness hood over my head. My wrists were placed in the punishment fetters. Then she closed the door.”

Helena finished speaking and sat with her eyes closed. He could feel her…waiting.

Pitin carefully gathered her as close to himself as he could hold her as he asked the last question.

“What is the revealing room?”

“It is where one is left without clothes, without light, without movement, to experience what will happen if the darkness ever decides you will never see the light again.”

Naked and injured! Ama had terrorized an injured, naked child. He could feel, but not see, the slight quakes that rippled through Helena's body. No wonder she was afraid the darkness would take her. She’d had that threat of a certain fate held over her head from infancy!

While he held her close, rubbing her back, trying to calm her tremors, he made a couple of decisions. Number one: he would never again consciously pry into her past. He didn’t care what the prevailing theory of improved mental health had concluded. It was sadistic to make a person relive a painful episode.

As far as he could determine, the revelation of such an experience merely made them both feel badly. How could it really help? Maybe that was why humans were given the gift of forgetting—to use it. She needed to have new information, not relive old learning experiences. She needed to believe in him.

Number two: they would face the future together. Whenever a ‘Helena’ anomaly surfaced, then he would deal with it at that time. He could certainly understand why she didn’t like ‘talks’. He wouldn’t have wanted to ‘talk’ either.

“Helena?”

“Yes.”

“We still need to talk.” He felt her stiffen in increments, pulling away from him. “The word will not hurt you, I will not hurt you and we must discuss…” He stopped his explanation of talking to see what she would do next—letting her go as she moved to stand up, wanting her to feel free to run. Then he deliberately relaxed back into an indolent posture to look as non-threatening as possible.

Helena didn’t move. She waited silently for whatever would come next. She could run or take some time for herself, like she had before, but what difference would it make? She had nowhere to go for real freedom and a duty yet to fulfill as long as she was capable. Pitin must be protected.

The suspenseful time between the transgression and the instruction in perfection had always been the worst part of her lessons. She had learned to keep her mind empty during the long hours of motionless silence before, during, and after the punishment. Unmoving silence was a much better way to pass the time until release than nursing bruises and chaffing.

Pitin watched for a while, thinking that surely she would move or speak. He shifted his position—no movement from Helena. Well, apparently she wasn’t going to dash off.

“Helena?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you sit here and we’ll discuss our future and what we want to do with it,” he said encouragingly, giving her a determined stare while patting the spot beside him.

At least he got a response, she looked at him. Her eyes changing color, she seemed…confused? Maybe that is what he needed to do—keep her off balance and confused.

No. He couldn’t do it. She might be rigid in her thinking, but she needed reassurance and an anchor more than anyone he’d ever met…no matter how self-contained or elusive she appeared.

Helena scrutinized Pitin carefully for clues about what exactly he wanted from her. His dark hair luffed in the slight breeze but that was the only movement. Other than that, he had turned into a non-blinking statue with a stare of intent. But of what?

Her confused thoughts bounced around. Pitin didn’t look violent, but what response did he want? What did he mean? He didn’t make sense. Again. The future? Our future? What could she do about it? What did he think he could do about it?

“Helena do you have any questions?”

“Yes.” But it had never mattered how many questions she had. No one ever really answered them.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What questions do you have about our future?”

“What future?” she responded, hoping to get real information.

Awareness shivered down his back—spearing through into his chest—tearing a raw wound in his heart. Burning acid hit his stomach.

He loved her.

Barely able to keep his last meal down, he got up. Holding his jaw locked, teeth clenched against disaster, he tersely ordered her, “Stay here,” and fleeing the scene of his disaster, left her standing there...alone.

Pitin made it an unknown distance into the trees before he staggered, fell to his knees, and heaved his guts up.

I’ve destroyed myself, he anguished. Turning in lone misery, he covered his eyes with one arm, and sat back against a tree, oblivious to his surroundings. He loved a woman who’d had her heart tortured out of her so early in life she never knew it missing.