Feelings

You did What?

"But why? Why would you do that? It was a great job. You were a shoe-in for promotion too, Arthur really liked you." He sat down heavily on the sofa and looked up at her, shaking his head.

She seemed so small suddenly, so vulnerable.

"You do realise that Luke pulled so many strings to bypass the usual process for you? I put myself out there for you, too, love." Tom wasn't in a rage. He could never be truly angry with her, but he was very confused.

"I - I just decided it wasn't for me." Sophie sat on the sofa, picking at the skin round her nails distractedly. She couldn't look at him. She was terrified he would see the look in her eyes.  Of fear, of disgust, of failure. 

Tom looked at her carefully.  There was something she wasn't telling him. Something that explained all this. He stood up and walked her back over, sitting down beside her. She looked at him, or rather down at his hands, she couldn't face him. He put a hand on hers, and she stopped fidgeting.

"Sophie, darling, what is it? You've been so different since I came home. I thought you were just tired from missing me too much," he smiled, trying to relieve some of the tension, but she didn't smile back. "I see now I was wrong. There is something bothering you, and I want you to tell me.  I promise that no matter what it is, I will try to help. " he turned and put his arms around her. 

Unconsciously, she stiffened in his embrace, and he pulled back, more than a little shocked. "Sophie?"

She looked up at him, and his heart turned over. She was pale and weepy. She looked like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to get angry. Please Tom, promise me?"

"Darling, I could never be angry with you. There's something very wrong, and I just need you to trust me with it." He put her hand on his chest, and she rested her head on it.  Slowly, she spoke.  Very quietly.

"At the dinner. Last week." She started then paused. This was almost too much.  Tom didn't move, just murmured.

"Go on, darling, you're doing so well."

She took a breath. "I  was, I was attacked. He..." she could feel Tom stop breathing. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I was tipsy, I should have been more careful, I might have been too friendly." She started to cry as she spoke. "He tried to come on to me, and I pushed him away. I went to the ladies, he - he followed me. He locked the door Tom, and he touched me. Everywhere." The last word was barely audible.  "He held my hair, he... he made me watch in the mirror while he..." she couldn't finish the sentence.

He didn't shout. He didn't get angry. He just gathered her into his arms.  "Who?" Was all he said, with a sickening feeling he already knew.

"Art." It was a murmur, a whisper. Tom held her tightly and stroked her hair, both in tears that fell like rain. He thought he might expire from the silent rage now coursing through him. He now knew what "blind fury" felt like.

"Oh my darling, my poor, poor darling." He rocked her gently as she howled and finally broke her heart. It had been a terrible secret to keep, and now the relief was almost unbearable.

He scooped her up and carried her to their room. Laying her on the bed, he crawled in behind her, both fully clothed and pulled the duvet around them into a safe nest. Wrapping his arms around her, they lay in silence, just holding each other.

"Tom?" Eventually, she spoke, her voice calmer.

"Yes, darling?"

"You haven't said anything. You... you think I was foolish? You think it was my fault, don't you. I shouldn't have been drinking. I should have known."

There was no accusation in her voice, just a sad acceptance of the norm.  The woman was responsible. Dressing like that or acting like that or generally inviting trouble.

Tom was shocked into action. He'd never thought of any such thing. In fact, he was truly outraged. He just wanted to give her a calm, safe space. He realised that perhaps he'd erred too much on the side of caution.

He sat up to lean on the headboard, bringing her with him. Turning her to face him as he cradled her, he looked into her eyes. The pain and shame he saw there cut him to the bone.

"My darling, I am so, so sorry. There is no part of this that is your fault. None. Not a single second.  You are only guilty of being a beautiful woman, inside and out, who treats everyone with respect and love and kindness. You see the good in people before you see the bad. I only wanted to give you a calm, safe space so you could say what needed to be said. I fear I may have let you down once again, and for that, I am truly sorry."

He looked at her with a gaze so full of love and compassion that she thought she might cry again.

'As for that... that thing " he spat the word, disgust evident in his voice, "as for HIM, a beating is too good for him.
I have a horrible feeling you're not the first to suffer at his hands. Even if God love you, you are, then I personally will see to it you are the last.  He will never work in this - or any other - industry again. He will be shamed and punished to the full extent of the law." He looked at her steadily,"and I will be paying him a visit. I want to personally remind him that if he tries to blame you or any of his other victims, I will, quite simply,  have him beaten to a pulp."

The angry fire in Tom's eyes was both warming to her soul and terrifying. His quiet threat was far more powerful than any ranting speech.

"Thank you, darling," was all she said. She kissed his cheek softly. "Hold me? Hold me and tell me again you love me? Please?" She suddenly just needed to hear it. To feel his arms.  To feel safe.

"Oh darling, my darling girl. I do love you. So very much. I love you and need you, and yes, I desire you. But right now? Right now, I just want to protect you." He curled his arms around her. He felt her take a deep, shuddering breath, then relax. Safe in his arms, protected from the world.

They fell asleep together. Like two halves of the same whole. Something as traumatic as this could have either made or broken their relationship. Fortunately for them, it was the former.

Tom woke first. At some point, they had broken their grasp of each other, and now, now he watched her as she slept. Her face, last night, a reflection of pain, this morning was serene and beautiful. He knew, with a crashing dread, the next few weeks or months were about to become a three ring circus.  She would be under scrutiny, by implication, so would he.  Luke was about to have a whole litter of kittens.

He didn't for one minute doubt Sophie was up to the task ahead. Tom just prayed he was.