You Belong To Me

Chapter twenty:

Days, weeks, months. An immeasurable amount of time has passed since Scott had been released from the hospital and the only thing on his mind was the man. He had been seeing his mandated therapist for the same amount of time that he's been free now, but nothing has changed. Stockholm Syndrome labeled most of his papers now and there was genuine concern from his family, but he couldn't help it. Caroline had tried to get him to see other people, to leave his house and do something other than work, but he couldn't.

His heart seemed to ache constantly, as if a part of him was missing and it was slowly drowning him in the loss. The way his chest would squeeze and tears would bud in his eyes was near constant and beginning to drive him to madness. He would glimpse the man's face in regular passerby's or strangers that would come into the shop and it would send him into manic episodes. He was nearly fired twice and he didn't protest. He would be unemployed now if it wasn't for Caroline; the last saving saint in his life just barely holding him together.

His body carried all of the reminders of what he went through, but instead of feeling disgusted at the sight of them, he became feverous and desperate for more. The scar on his pinky finger, the new lack of a leg. The space to which he was now strapping his new prosthetic while Caroline was helping herself to some liquor to pregame in the kitchen. They were going out with some other people.

Going out, Scott thought, miserably. Going to a bar was the last thing he wanted right now, especially as his current mental health seemed to be at one of its lows. He felt like if he were to think about crying, he could. That's sort of how it goes nowadays. It was as if he were trapped in a constant cycle of upset.

"Come on, Scotty! Stop sulking, this will be good for you, I promise. We'll have fun." Caroline said, dancing across the room, a glass in each hand tinkling with ice cubes. She passed one to Scott and flounced down on the couch beside him.

"What is it?" Scott asked her, squinting at the pinkish liquid.

"It's called Caroline's-cocktail," she stared at him in complete seriousness. "If you don't drink it, I'll cry and never talk to you again."

"Alright, alright." He took a sip. It was fruity and sweet, but he could taste the nail polish remover that is vodka beneath the sugar. "Damn, actually..." he laughed softly, which made Caroline beam.

"Do you like it?" She asked in all eagerness, pressing her hands onto Scott's knees.

"I really do. Are you sure you're the right kind of barista?" He asked, shaking his head. He took another sip and for a second, he didn't think of the man.

"Are you, Scott Alexander Callahan, so excited for tonight?"

"What's the right answer to this?" Scott cocked his eyebrow and held the rim of the glass against his bottom lip in contemplation.

"You're supposed to say yes and that you're so incredibly hyped."

"Yes, I'm so incredibly hyped," Scott repeated with equal enthusiasm. At least it got Caroline to laugh, no matter how much he didn't mean it. He did, however, acknowledge how beautiful Caroline looked, floating around his apartment. She was wearing tight jeans with black booties adorning her feet, giving her a couple of extra inches to her already five-foot-nine frame. She was proud of her height, but of course, couldn't help spare the jokes of wishing to cut her knees out. She was wearing a black, silky blouse that billowed around the sleeves as she walked, and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a bun that most likely wouldn't last very long as she liked to let her hair down when she got drunk.

"You ready, Scotty?" She asked, snatching her purse off the countertop.

"As ready as I can be." He mumbled, feigning happiness. It was beginning to feel like he could never be really happy again unless he was with the man.