On day two, Gia woke up in her cheery room at Hell’s gate, drenched in a panicked sweat. Certain her ribs would crack from her insistently thundering heart, she rolled on the bed, moaning, trying to keep from free-falling to the floor.
Marco kept coming in, murmuring soothing words as he checked on her. He patted her cheeks and forehead with a cool cloth, helped her sip water, and simply sat by her side in easy companionship. Daphne kept striding in, bringing meals Gia couldn’t stomach. Sometimes they came in together. As far as Gia was concerned, nothing mattered but her misery.
The food she nibbled kept trying for a sloppy encore all over the floor or bed-coverings. The Librium they gave her to calm her anxiety made her lethargic, clumsy and drowsy. When she managed to get up from the mattress, she often stumbled like a sailor on a boat in high seas.
Marco seemed to always catch her, steady her or state words of encouragement. Unused to such kindness, she hoped she managed some measure of civility, even though she felt like dog vomit.
At night, fragments of nightmares pushed through her consciousness. They came as familiar, painful memories, wrapped in heartache. At daybreak, she could only remember the cold sweat resulting from the dreams and her hysterical breathing as she clawed toward consciousness
At nightfall on day three, after more visitations throughout the day from Marco and Daphne, more drowsiness, and more clumsy movements, huge black spiders with glowing red eyes began popping out of the walls, one by one. They dropped on her skin and crawled, driving Gia mad. They burrowed into her ears and nostrils.
“Make them go away, Brutus. Please. Get them off of me.” She writhed on the bed.
Marco kept dabbing at her skin with a cool compress. “You’re hallucinating. The Librium should calm your system. Give it time.” He wiped her forehead and neck, making calming noises. “Honey, you’re going to get through this.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, through gritted teeth. “I’d rather die right now. I think I am dying. Make it stop! Please make it stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the tears batter against her eyelids. “Oh, my God. The spiders...get the spiders, Brutus.”
He kept up the shushing noises and the dabbing action but said little. Something about his huge presence proved a comfort to Gia. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
“I need my hand back, love. Just for a minute.” He wiggled free of her grasp, dipping the washcloth in the pan of ice water. He wrung it out.
The tinkling of water became glass shards, slicing her ear canal. She pressed her palms over her ears to make the sound stop. Her teeth ground together, and this strange keening noise blasted from her throat.
Marco glanced at her, studied at the cotton cloth, and tried his best to quiet the trickles as if he knew her torture.
The ice-cold compress felt like heaven. It seemed to vanquish some of the spiders. She stopped writhing for a minute, panting.
Marco’s phone blipped. He looked down at it and frowned. He rested his palm on her cheek, smoothing back her sweat-soaked hair, giving her the full impact of his compassionate gaze.
“I’ve gotta go check on something. I’ll be right back. Two secs, okay?” he said, lifting two fingers in front of her face.
Gia nodded, shoving her hands between her thighs and bearing down. When the door closed behind him, however, she missed him. Wanted him close.
She sat up, her head pounding, and swung her legs off the bed. She stood up, and her legs crumpled, unable to hold her weight. She fell with a thud. Pushing up to hands and knees, she began to crawl across the vast desert between her and the door. The spiders streamed behind her like an army.
Marco burst through the door a few seconds later. “What happened?”
She collapsed into a puddle of flesh and bones, her arms giving way.
“You’re here,” she breathed. She reached for his ankle. When her fingers curled around it, she felt safe. Her eyes closed.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Marco said. He rolled her on her back and lifted her in his arms. In two quick strides, he rested her on the bed again. “There you go.”
He grabbed the cloth from the basin, quietly wrung it out, and began his ministrations.
“How long will it be like this?” she said, unable to hold her eyelids open.
“Hard telling. You’re having a rough go of it. But we’ll get through it together, don’t worry.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
We. Together. The words settled in Gia’s chest like a puppy making its bed.
A few days later, Gia lay curled in a tiny ball on her bed, staring at the dark window.
Marco sat next to her. “You managed to keep some food down today.”
“Yay,” she said, weak as an emaciated kitten.
“That’s good news,” he continued.
She twirled her finger round and round, eyes closed.
“Eyes open, girl. Only for a moment. We have to get these pills down your throat.” He shook a little white paper cup, making the contents rattle.
“What pills?” She pried one eyelid open.
“Your new treatment plan—Vitamin B-complex and Thiamin with a chaser of Milk Thistle.” He smiled at her.
She pushed herself up, downed the pills, and then collapsed, burying herself in pillows.
“Why do I have to take these?” she asked before fatigue had its way with her eyelids.
“Alcohol burns up B-vitamins. It can cause nerve damage. We’re working hard to prevent that.” He brushed her hair with his palm. “We’re going to start tapering you off the benzos, too.”
“Instead of being a Librium-dosed, hallucinating zombie seeing spiders drop from the walls, I’ll only be hallucinating. Nice.” She tucked her hands under her cheek and nestled into the pillow.
“I thought you said the hallucinations ceased,” Marco said, scrunching his forehead.
“The dreams haven’t stopped. I can barely remember them, but they’re nightmares,” Gia mumbled, half-asleep.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here,” the brute said in his calm, easy-going tone.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“You’re very welcome,” he said.
“How do you manage it, big guy?” she asked, still looking inward.
“What’s that?” he said. The easy chair next to Gia’s bed creaked as if he sat down.
“Staying so calm with me going through hell and being such a bitch.” She let one eyelid open.
He smiled. “I like you, Gia. You’ve got fire. You’re tenacious. And I know this isn’t easy for you. I told you, I’d be with you while you got it together.”
She extended her hand to him. “I’m so tired,” she said, her eyes falling shut once more. “I want this to be over.”
“I know you do,” he said, gently squeezing her fingers. He scooted closer and placed her hand on his leg, putting his palm on top. “Go to sleep. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.”
Comforted by his words, she let herself drift.
She found herself trapped in a skinny wee-child body of about eight years old. She stood in a tiny bedroom, smaller than the Gray House one. Her hands were fisted by her sides.
A man stood before her holding a smooth, black leather belt. He folded it in thirds. He kept thwacking it against his palm.
Her small heart beat a hummingbird’s cadence. She knew the belt wasn’t for her, but she stood, stone still, waiting. Who is it for? Then, she saw her little sister, crouched in the corner, trembling like a leaf in the wind.
“I didn’t mean it,” the young girl wailed. “I didn’t mean it.”
The man lifted the belt-like an executioner’s ax.
Before it had a chance to strike her sister, Gia threw herself in its path. The leather slapped against her back with a fiery sting.
In the next instance, she found herself in a car. Headlights blinded her. She blinked and held her hand in front of her face. They’re coming for me. They’re coming straight for me.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she shouted. She let out a scream as her car crashed into...into what?
Big, powerful arms wrapped around her. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Wake up, Gia. You’re having another nightmare. Easy girl.”
Her eyelids fluttered open to a dimly lit room. She scrambled to sitting, disorientated. Trapped between the nightmare and reality, her head whipped back and forth as she scanned her surroundings, desperate to get her bearings. “Where am I?”
“You’re in Gray House. In a bed. With me by your side,” Marco said.
“Oh, fuck,” Gia said, dragging her hand through her messy hair. A horrifying realization crawled through her brain, with the same insistence as the spiders. Something had to be dealt with., but she wanted to pickle it in her alcoholic stew and never see it again.