Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 14
It's a blessing and a curse, feeling others' pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....right?
CW: Trauma, Nightmare, Assault Mention, Death Mention (Parent and stranger), Reader Backstory (finally right?)
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You find yourself in a dark hallway. The walls are made of bricks and there's trash surrounding you on the floor. The ceiling is the night sky, blending seamlessly into the tops of the walls. The stars remain stagnant, unmoving, and the moon is full but lacking in detail.
You hear your name. You whip your head around, looking for the source.
There's no answer, not technically. The voice just calls out your name over and over. Then, another breaks through the silence.
Your heart jumps to your throat when you hear the voice, and you break into a sprint down the hallway, pulse ringing in your ears as you rush to get away. But, try as you do to move your feet, there’s no burn in your legs and the hallway passes by at a glacial pace.
The breath is knocked out of you when you're shoved into a hard surface. Hands locked at your sides, you feel the hard, rough surface of a tree behind you, and your eyes dart around to see you’re surrounded by endless forest.
You look up to the figure, but a black void of scribbles and shadow sits in place of what should be a man’s face. You panic when he leans into your neck and hands travel down your body. You scream. You call for your roommate, your father, Logan, anyone to come save you. Or, you try to. Your throat strains, but your cries are a quiet echo in your ears.
Just as the figure's hands make their way towards the hem of your dress, you're released. A body lies in front of you...dead. You sink to the ground, back pressed firmly against the tree. A flash of recognition crosses your mind as you stare down at the stiff pile of a corpse before you, limbs twisted in every which direction. It’s on the ground and somehow in the driver’s seat of a car at the same time. Tears stream down your face as you take in the black leather jacket he wears, the one all too familiar to you. There's blood. There's blood everywhere. His face is slashed by glass and his left side crushed by the car door. It's horrific. You want to scream. You want to.
A voice, low and gruff, calls your name, and your head shoots up to see Logan standing before you, eyes full of disdain and distrust.
"What did you do?" Their tones are low and monotonous.
You stumble over your words, desperately scrambling to explain yourself. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault. You’re sorry. Sorry you didn’t do more to help, that you didn’t know. You beg for him not to–
"What did you do to my head?"
The words sit heavy in your chest as any thoughts from before die in your throat. "I didn't mean to," you say in a pleading tone. The world around you devolves into a black and white spiral. "Logan, it was an accident. I'm sorry!"
Your words fall on deaf ears as Logan turns his back to you before walking away. You rush to your feet to run after him, not wanting to be left behind. Not again. But, something holds you firmly in place.
"Wait, come back!" You fight and kick at the hands that hold you down, thrashing around violently. "Let go! Logan!"
He keeps walking. You scream for him to come back. You scream, over, and over, and over.
"Stop!" Your eyes fly open as you bolt into an upright position, the sound of your voice waking you. The world around you is cold, and you can feel the dampness of your body as you struggle to bring yourself back to reality. A hand grabs your shoulder and you let out a labored wheeze before whipping around, still ready to fight.
"Hey, hey, hey. It's just me." Logan hovers above you, sitting back on his knees as he holds his arms out cautiously.
“Sorry…” You sigh heavily before wrapping your arms around yourself and averting your gaze.
He grabs your shoulder in a gentle grip, and it finally dawns on you that the hands that held you down in your dream were him. He was trying to wake you. A wave of nausea and shame floods your system. It’s not until his arms envelope you that you relax a little, letting your head fall against his shoulder. He's here. He's still here.
Wait, why is he still here? You expected him to be gone once you fell asleep. That’s how it was supposed to work. That’s the kind of person you expected him to be in the end. You’d be lying if you said the very thought that he might actually be interested in you beyond sex was just too scary to acknowledge.
"What's going on, pretty girl?" He rests his cheek against your temple, trying to look at you. But, you keep your face firmly hidden in his chest. When you don't respond, he asks again. "What happened?"
A beat passes between the two of you, and his fingers drum lightly against your shoulder as he thinks. "You never talk about yourself. Why?"
"I'm not really that interesting," you say breathlessly, hoping a joke will ease the air.
"You were screaming." He pulls away and grabs your chin, ensuring you look him in the eye. Your eyes go wide as the worry in his chest flows into your mind.
"You talk in your sleep, doll," he reveals. "I hear you down the hall all the time."
"Oh..." Shit. Had you been keeping him up at night, too? You didn't remember most of your nightmares. The feelings remained, but the visions never stuck around. Except for that one. It remained clear as day. It always did. Even now as you stared into space you could see the blood, feel the chill of the air, the terror in your chest.
But, you hadn’t told anyone, too prideful to let anyone else shoulder the burden. No one was supposed to know. Especially not here. Another wave of nausea, stronger this time, washes over you, and you want to melt through the bed into the floor.
Logan’s brows furrow, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "What's goin on, doll?"
You swallow thickly. You knew you'd have to tell him one day if things kept up the way they were. You just expected, hoped, that it would come later. Or, maybe never. Slowly, you take a deep breath.
"Most of my dreams are nightmares. Some of them have my dad. Most of them have..." Your throat closes when you try to explain further. You don’t want to think of the figure in the alleyway. You shake your head before continuing. "My dad died in a car crash when I was twelve. We were in Vancouver for a vacation. I wanted to stop by this restaurant I saw earlier that day. But, we got to an intersection and...i-it was like the car came out of nowhere." You begin messing with your nails as you explain, picking at any imperfections. Logan sits quietly, silently urging you to continue. "I still don't remember how it happened. It was all so fast. One minute I was in the passenger side of the back seat, the next I felt my body go weightless, and when I opened my eyes, I was laying against the door with shattered glass around me. I was fine, obviously. My mom, miraculously, got a concussion and some pretty bad scratches, but nothing serious. My dad...they think he died on impact. The jacket, it's all I have left of him. I mean, I might’ve stolen it when my mom wasn’t looking. But, she had everything else, so I didn’t feel too bad."
Logan shifts his position to face you better. His hand remains on your shoulder, rubbing small circles in it with his thumb.
"You know," you continue, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, looking at the jacket on the coat rack. "I can still see his eyes all glassy. Just staring into the void. Still see mom's bleeding head. She was knocked out completely, thank God. I just wish I was that lucky. I still get chills when I hear an ambulance siren, and it took us forever to get back in a car after that. But, it was over ten years ago," you laugh, humorlessly. "Feels like I should be over it."
"No, we both know that's not how that works," he chuckles.
You nod. "My powers manifested not long after that. I was pretty confused why my emotions were going so haywire. Took me a while to realize I only felt in control when I was alone. I couldn’t really talk to my mom about it. We were never that close, but something shifted after the crash. Like suddenly I wasn't her kid anymore. And,” you shift your legs to rest in your chest. You blink rapidly as memories, many buried deep in the back of your mind, claw their way to the surface. “It was so weird because it was never consistent. She always got so mad or scared if I was in danger. Like, I ran away once and I got the biggest earful about how I had scared her to death and to never do that again. Then, she would treat me like I belonged in the house again, only for it to go away after a few weeks. I got into a lot of trouble that way. Just so she’d look at me like she used to." Despite the halfhearted laugh that emanates from your throat, you squeeze your eyes shut when they start to burn. You still can't look Logan in the eye, but you can tell he's still listening, still being patient. You feel comforted by it. "I didn't realize I could block out others' thoughts until high school. Didn't even know I could trade my emotions with people until halfway through college when my roommate got dumped. Her and I don't talk anymore."
Logan lets out a small hum in response. The room goes quiet for a little bit while you let him process the information he's been given. You know he's been through a lot, but taking on another's turmoil is usually stressful regardless. You don't want to overwhelm him. But, a thought sits in the back of your mind, demanding to be addressed. You shake your head free of it when the alley starts to manifest in your mind again. He doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t. No one does. Right?
"I think about my mother a lot," you say, breaking through the silence of the night as you push the thought deeper down. "All alone up there in that small town. She says she's fine, but obviously I know better. I know she wants me to come visit but…” You stare out the window in search of the right words. It’s not that you can’t visit. But, how would you? Could you walk into that house like everything was normal?
“I wish I knew the full extent of power back then. Maybe I could've helped to ease her pain, even just a little." You feel weight in your chest. “I never really was able to shake off the guilt. I kept thinking–I still think ‘Why him? Why me? Why did I get to live?’ I shouldn’t have suggested we go out. It felt like it was all because of me. It's part of why I left at all. I think I knew she thought the same.”
"You were just a kid," he says, tone easy. "You lost him, too." And, maybe he's right.
You'd spent your whole life blaming yourself for how your mother treated you. It never quite occurred to you that you may have been just as helpless. More so even given your age at the time. Perhaps that’s why you could never forget the resentment she had for you.
"That's what you dream about?" His voice is low, like trying not to scare a small rabbit.
You shake your head. "There's usually someone else. I don't remember his face but..." You drag your hands up and down your legs. You have to breathe deeply to keep from breaking down. You can feel your heartbeat in your arms, your legs, your head. You're terrified of what he'll say. “I don’t even know why they’re in the same dream.” Your voice cracks, and you hide the lower half of your face in your knees.
Your hand is taken in a strong grip as Logan brings it to his lips. "I'm here."
"Logan, I..." You feel your throat close as your voice breaks. "I killed someone." Your eyes flicker up to his face, preparing for a reaction.
But, his eyes are steady and trained on you, urging you to continue.
"I was twenty. I was walking home from a frat party. Went to a lot of those in college. But, my boyfriend at the time, he and I got into a fight over some girl he was talking to outside the house. I could tell he was lying about not having feelings, so I dumped him then and there and walked home alone. I was rounding the corner of an alleyway when I heard some guy calling behind me. I tried ignoring him, but he wouldn't go away. Then, I ran. He caught up. Then he…” The words stop tumbling from your mouth as you get closer to the incident, still too scary to verbalize. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. He wouldn't let me go, so I panicked. Then, everything went black. When I woke up, the police were there, and I was on the ground. I think someone heard me scream and called them. When I looked around…" Your eyes go wide and your lower lip shakes as the scene conjures itself in your mind. "He was just lying there on the ground. He wasn’t moving. I just kinda sat there in shock. When they questioned me, I told them what happened before he just, I don’t know, collapsed? They stopped contacting me when the autopsy came back inconclusive. ‘Sudden brain death’ they said. But, I knew what really happened, and it scared the shit out of me."
Logan's thumb rubs over your knuckles in a repetitive motion as he listens intently.
You look up at his face to see it rife with worry. You find it becoming harder to breathe. "I can control people's brain functions, Logan. It doesn't stop at emotions. I basically flatlined the guy."
You're pulled into Logan's strong arms. He cradles your head against his shoulder, keeping you there with a firm hand while the other wraps around your waist. You only barely noticed you were crying before. But, now that you have, you can't stop. So, you let it out. You bury your face into his shoulder, and your hands grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin.
"It was an accident. I didn't mean to..."
Logan is quiet. He doesn't say anything; just holds you close, just like you did for him all those nights ago, rocking you back and forth slightly as quiet sobs wrack your body. You feel his fingers glide through your hair, twisting it around every now and then.
“I’m so sorry for what I did. It was an accident. I swear.”
“I know, doll.” That’s all he says. Whether he knows or not that you're apologizing for what you did to him this time, you don’t care. You feel comforted by his presence regardless.
Finally, breaking through all the pain and grief you had buried deep inside you, breaking through the regret and horror, you feel a warmth radiating from him that you can't quite place as the weight around you that’s followed you for so long finally lifts. It wraps around you, making Logan's hug seem stronger, more comfortable. It’s here that, for the first time in a long time, you feel safe.
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Getting a little paranoid about my content warnings😅 But, hey! We finally know what happened. Hope I handled this ok. I might’ve borrowed a bit from my experience, so hopefully it’s authentic enough without coming off as over the top or stereotypical. Downsides of having no beta reader I guess
Idk, if anyone has thoughts on it, let me know
Pro tip: Don’t edit depressed. Not very productive
