I'm Not Losing You (A Marshfield Fic)

Chapter 3: Faults Make You Perfect

After the whole nightmare incident, things began to slowly, but steadily return to normal. I was getting more sleep more often, and so was Kate. She's still in recovery, but she's doing so well its almost like you can't tell that she was ever harassed or bullied into an attempt at her life. But about that, there's always been a glimmer to her eyes. But today, the glimmer wasn't there. I was minding my own business, sitting on the couch on our newly shared apartment, when I heard the door open and slam shut, along with stomping to our bedroom, and the door there being slammed shut. "What has got her so worked up?" I thought to myself, as I got up and walked to the bedroom door. "Kate? Mind if I come in? Are you okay?" Just then the door opened, and Kate was, well.... let's just put it as she wasn't in proper attire, or any attire for that matter. I focus on her face, or give about 110% effort to stay focused on her face. "Max, I was just about to take a shower. Is everything okay?" She asked me if I'm okay. I reply, "No, not everything is okay, because I'm worried about you. What's going on?" She hesitates, then nods her head, as if she was agreeing with herself. She says, "Max... I saw my mother. She stopped me and we talked. It wasn't 2 two minutes until she mentioned my video. She's trying to keep me under her thumb, Max. She told me that she was ashamed of me, and then, proceeded to ask me if I had slept with anyone! I had the guts to tell her yes, and that I slept with a girl. I..." "Go on, Kate. What happened then?" I ask, trying to get everything out, because I cared about my girlfriend, unlike other people. Not talking about you, Chloe, I know you care. I'm talking about every other jerk out there. She continued: "She told me that she was ashamed of me, that I had slept with anyone, let alone a girl. She compared me to a prostitute! I slapped her, and told her to stay away from me, and to never compare anyone, even me, to anything other than themselves. I told her, judge others, and you too shall be judged. I then told her that I had some judgement for her. I said that she was a horrible mother, and that the only way that I'd forgive her for the constant belittling and hate is when she is six feet under." I watched Kate grab the knife I keep next to me when I sleep, and saw her throw it with deadly accuracy, and I had to duck out of the way to avoid getting hit. The blade was thrown right at her family portrait. The knife stuck, and the blade punctured the part of the picture where her mother was. Now, I've seen my fair share of angry people, but Kate is completely different. She throws things with deadly accuracy. She put her hands to her mouth, and collapsed on the floor, in shock from almost hitting me in the process of the "throw a knife at a picture of your hateful mother" event. I run over to her, and I pull her up. "Max... I almost hit you." She says. I tell her in return, "But you didn't hit me, that's what counts. I could've done a rewind. But I don't blame you for doing that. You were angry, I get that. I've thrown things too, Kate." I pull her chin up, and her green eyes lock with my blue ones. I grab her and I pull her into a kiss. It's certainly heated. She follows suit, but she's no pushover. She pushes back. I break away. "That's because you needed it. I love you, Kate." I say. She cradles up against me. And replies, "I love you too, Max."