Snippets of an affair ~ First disappointment

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (16/?) ~ First disappointment Author: zahra_owens Beta: An absolute angel who'll remain anonymous... Rating: R Word Count: 841 Warnings: Major angst, mention of physical violence and non-con Disclaimer: Persons and events described here may, on the surface, seem familiar, but I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Author's note: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter may not be the 'I' from the previous chapter.

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I can't leave and I can't stay.

It's like there's this immense wall between us and I don't know how to break it down.

Even before you came home from the hospital, I'd moved my things to my bedroom, my chanting room as you call it. I’m sure you need your space, like I did, to heal and I wouldn’t dream of expecting anything from you, least of all in the bedroom. In turn I fervently hope you’ll take the first step when you’re ready again.

I didn’t expect to lie here at night, listening to you move around the house, unable to sleep and when you do sleep, I hear you wake up suddenly or call out in your dreams.

You drink too much and although I know it helps you sleep, I also know this can't go on.

You turn down every work offer you get and even though you're the best at what you do, it will only be a matter of time before the chefs find someone new to take over your job. I still go to work every evening, so the day to day bills are getting paid, but the larger ones are piling up and I don't know what to do with them. You're a ghost in our house and sometimes I feel you don't want me here because I'm a constant reminder of what happened. Still, I can't leave because if I do I know you'll drink yourself to death. At least now, I push you to eat a sandwich from time to time and although this doesn't prevent you from wasting away before my eyes, I can tell myself that I'm keeping you alive.

Sometimes I see bits of your old self creeping through. When you get up in the afternoon and thank me for keeping the house tidy and cleaning up your empty bottles, you smile at me and I just want to run over to you and take you in my arms, tell you how much I love you and how I just want things to return to normal, but I know that can't be. It's like he cut you more than just physically with that knife, but somehow cut away some of that spirit I fell in love with.

Because I'm so hopeless in the kitchen, I often bring home leftover food from the restaurant. My boss knows a little bit of what happened to us and since he's a good friend of yours, he doesn't have a problem with this and often makes some of his specials, just for us.

"Don't know why you bother. You know I don't eat that," you say one night.

"You hardly eat anything," I answer, trying not to be angry because of the emotionless tone of your voice. "You're skin and bones. You look terrible. Throw your clothes in the laundry and take a shower."

"And then what?" you say, leaning closer and looking over my shoulder at the food I'm unpacking. I try not to cringe at the smell of hard liquor mixed with your rather strong body odour that wafts towards me. "Will you fuck me then?"

"You're drunk," I answer, turning away from you to get a plate out of the cupboard and therefore avoiding a confrontation.

"Can you blame me?" you answer, unexpectedly harshly. You usually retreat when I confront you with your drinking, but this time you don't.

"It's been weeks, you'll have to pull yourself together one day," I say quietly, purposely not turning around to face you.

"You don't seem to have a problem pretending nothing happened," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "I know you saw it though," you continue, the liquor providing your bravado. "I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering you staring at me while he raped me. Guess you know exactly how that feels, hey?"

"You bloody well know I know how that feels!" I shout, turning around and not caring if you see I'm crying. "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't move because if he threatens to do something, he'll do it! I learned that the hard way a long time ago, he was just asking for an excuse to do exactly what he said he would!" I try to control my breathing, but your lack of response frustrates me. I want to grab your shirt and shake you until you react, until you fight back, but I know that's why you drink, so you can make yourself numb. "I can't talk to you when you're like this. Drink yourself into a stupor. See if I care."

I walk out of the kitchen, my shoulder knocking against yours, and from the corner of my eye I see you struggle to maintain your balance. Usually I'd turn back to rescue you, but I'm too mad right now and I just want to be alone.

I can't sit here and watch you self-destruct, but I can't leave, because I know I'm the one thing keeping you going.

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