Take Care, Sara

into a pulsating mass of pain and nothing else. That was all she was now. Sara didn’t know how to make it stop. She longed for it to stop.
    Lincoln grabbed her arms and pulled her up and toward him.
    “I said don’t touch me!” she shrieked, trying to tug her arms from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. “Lincoln, let go of me. Let go of me!” Sara moved to slap him, to push him away.
    He brought her body against his. Panic made her fight harder. No one’s arms but his should be around her. Not ever. Sara lurched away, wanting Lincoln’s hands off her. Not letting her get away, Lincoln pulled her to him again and rested his chin on the crown of her head; large, resilient, and unmovable. Sara made puny, pitiful attempts to remove his touch, but it wasn’t going anywhere. He was too strong and she was too weak.
    “Lincoln, please,” she whispered, unable to stand the touch of another man. It felt like disloyalty to him.
    He didn’t answer; just kept holding her.
    Shaking, spent, she finally went still. Her arms were wedged between them and of their own accord her palms rested on his hard, warm chest. His heart pounded beneath her hand. Bu-bum…bu-bum…bu-bum . Sara turned her attention to that, her breaths slowing, and her body relaxing the longer she concentrated on the steady, strong beat.
    The minutes they stayed like that were endless. For the first time in a long time Sara felt not quite so alone. Relief washed over her in the safety of his arms. Lincoln knew her pain. He knew what she was going through. He was going through it himself. He’d lost him too. The catastrophic difference between them, though, was that it wasn’t his fault. It was Sara’s. It was a glaring truth she couldn’t ignore or forget. Sara stiffened as the remorse came back in full attack, punching her in the stomach and taking her breath away.
    “What are you doing to yourself?” he murmured.
    Sara had no response. When she tried to pull away, Lincoln held her nearer. She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.
    “ Stop doing it.” His hands moved to the sides of her head and he smoothed her tangled hair from her face, gently pushing her away and leaning down so their eyes met. “You’re not alone. Don’t ever feel like you’re alone. You know that, right?”
    Sara stared at the gold flecks in his eyes, swallowing thickly. His eyes were silver and gold. She jerked her head in a semblance of a nod.
    Lincoln sighed deeply and dropped his hands. “Go. I’ll wait here.”
    She blinked her eyes against the tears, but they kept coming. “Lincoln, I…I can’t. I can’t go there.” Sara took a shaky breath, moving to put the table between them.
    He looked at her for a long time. “But you will take a shower?” Lincoln finally asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll take it.” He nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom, one eyebrow lifted.
    Sara slowly walked toward the bathroom. “What will you do?” she asked when she reached it.
    “I’ll be right here.” He patted the back of the cream-colored couch.
    Once inside the bathroom, Sara fell against the closed door, struggling to get air into her lungs. She went to the mirror. A hollow-eyed, haunted face stared back. Her eyes had always been big, but now they almost looked cartoonish. Large and dark in a white face. Sara gripped the counter and leaned over it, staring down at the sink. A drop of water dripped from the faucet, disappearing down the drain into the dark unknown. That’s what she felt like. Sara was being sucked into a black hole of nothingness, and once that happened, she would disappear. She would cease to exist.
    “How’s that shower going?”
    Sara jumped at the sound of Lincoln’s voice on the other side of the door. She wanted him to go away and leave her alone with her misery and despondency. She wanted the world to go away. Sara sighed. That wouldn’t be happening. And she knew Lincoln well enough to know once his mind was set, there was no changing it. He wouldn’t be going anywhere either.
    She rubbed her face and turned on the faucet in the shower, the small tan-walled room quickly steaming up with moisture and heat. Sara untied her robe and let it drop to the floor. The worn and ratty robe had been a gift from him and taking it off was shedding a security blanket. It was removing a piece of him from her and doing so for even a short period of time was painful to her. She practically lived in the thing. Its frayed and unraveled