The distance between us

55. Firewood And Whiskey

MAY BELLE
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It's been 4 hours. 4 hours stuck inside my head, wondering how any of this made sense.

Why would Grey say he took the money if it were Logan?

Why would Logan use me to get to Grey?

Why was I here? Why did he think Grey would show up to save me when he knew I meant nothing to him?

"Why was Grey covering for you?"
I hadn't spoken to him in hours, I couldn't even look him in the eye, but I needed to know, my mind was spiralling.

"Well technically he wasn't covering for me, see when I realised I couldn't take his money anymore, I thought why not just take the next best thing...you"

"But Grey already made it clear I mean nothing to him"

"Black mail is a very easy thing to do my love"

He blackmailed him?

"You blackmailed him"

"Well only to say he robbed the cafe, the rest were his own words baby"

But...no, no why would he do that? What was he holding over him that scared him that much as to lie to my face? To throw me under the oceans grace and break my heart into a million pieces, to spit in my face with words that fell nothing short of torture.

"Slowly took out the money while I fucked you, keeping you distracted- I'm never going to love you May Belle, not someone like you"

He may not have stolen from me, he may have been blackmailed into confessing...but no one ever told him to admit words I never thought I'd have to hear, especially from the one man in this world my heart will regretfully truly ever love.
He stole my heart and I'll never be able to get it back.

"You may as well find something else to torture Logan, Greys not coming for me, your crazy if you think I mean anything to him"

"Well i guess we'll just have to wait and see huh"

I just want to go home...I want my dad, my girls.

My whole body was aching...I was sitting up, leaning against the bed head as my body thrived with pain.
My arm and hand were wrapped in a cast while ribs had bandages around them.

I could feel all the stitches on my face as I ran my fingers along my cheek. My eyes felt swollen and my lips burnt and stung from the superficial cuts.
I managed to wiggle myself up in a seated position, though I still couldn't move below my right knee.

My other leg was fine but I couldn't imagine not being able to walk with both my legs again...how can I run the cafe, how can I go on late night walks? How can I do anything with one leg?

Since the day I watched my sister die in my arms, I'd always been extra careful on the roads, I'd always look twice, always use the crossing, never jay walk.

I always promised myself I'd never pressure anyone into doing anything...I'd never judge somebody for doing the right thing.

And there I was, I had no care in the world, I didn't even look, I didn't care to see if there was a crossing nearby, I didn't care if the light were red or green, my heart was so full of pain I couldn't fathom to even understand what was happening around me.

And now I have to live the rest of my life trying to understand how my Abby felt the day she died.

Every single day I regret how much I pressured her to cross that road, how oblivious I was to the dangers of the world.
I remember the feeling I felt as we chased the butterfly's down the quiet streets, I was so happy and full of life, I had my sister, my dad, my happiness, and I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Now I sit here, nothing to bare, my sister is gone, my father riddled with the pain of his past, my happiness in the existence of nowhere, my soul mate cutting right through the love he never bared for me.

Sometimes I think god is punishing me for that day...for not caring about anyone but myself. I wish I could go back in time...trade places with her. I guess I owed Karma one...

I was so tired I could barley keep my eyes open, I hadn't eaten since the morning of the accident, I hadn't had any water in hours, I felt completely drained of life.
Yet all my mind would wonder too were those eyes I wish I never had the privilege of glancing into.

Even in the deepest of heart ache, he still somehow managed to capture my full attention.

I remember the first time I ever saw him...how he smelt, how he looked, how he felt.

The scent of firewood and whisky, the way his work attire rolled up to his elbows, how soft his palm was as he placed it on my shoulder.
The way his eyes sparkled beneath the street light.
I remember everything. The one thing I can never truly forget is the way I felt my heart beat for the first time in my 18 years I had walked the earth.

How I'll ever find my way out
of this is beyond me.
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