Storyteller

Chapter 17 (One Year Later)

Faith POV: 

The divorce papers are signed, the wills are updated, and the custody has been decided. Everything legal has been set in stone, leaving only the emotional healing to decide. 

I dream about him, a lot... And it's the only thing keeping me holding on. Last time I saw him was at the custody hearing where he willfully gave custody to me. He looked like hell there, and was obviously hung over. It breaks my heart, but I can't fix him... Nobody can. 

There's been nothing but paparazzi videos of him stumbling around between shows. He has beat up a few photographers, has had his license revoked due to DUI's, and most recently has fallen off stage while singing his new song It's A Business Doing Pleasure With You. He broke his ankle. 

I'm touring for the first time in a year and a half. Carrie and I wrote enough to put out a new album. That's why she's opening for me.

Only two of the songs we wrote were released by me. The rest were given to Carrie for her new album. The album is now #2 on Hot country 100. Not too shabby. 

I walk into the Bridgestone, staring up at the seats that appear to shoot straight up toward the sky. I never fail to be amazed when we play arenas like this one. I stand in the center of the stage which is set up for soundcheck, and listen to the complete silence. It'll be a completely different feeling a few hours from now... 

I feel a shift in the energy around me, causing me to turn around quickly. 

Tim sits on an equipment box back beside the keyboard near the side stage. He watches me with seductive eyes, as if we had been cloaked in candlelight. His look, however, causes me to be on edge. I doubt he's sober. He's probably just wandered in from broadway, likely getting wasted in a honkytonk.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, sounding like a child. I cross my arms in front of me, trying to convey my discomfort to him. 

"I didn't mean to scare you." He says quietly, standing up slowly. He scratches the back of his neck. "I just wanted to see you." He sounds almost sad. I can tell there's something wrong in his eyes. I bite my lip, and swallow my fear, grabbing his hand, and dragging him to some place we can talk.

I lead him into my dressing room and lock the door behind us, making sure no interviewers trudge in here. He stands awkwardly by the door, looking down at the floor at first. I watch him, as I sit down on the couch set up in the room. He finally walks in a little further, before sitting down on the stool at the makeup station. He turns to face me and clasps his hands together. 

"I love you." He spits out, sticking his tongue against his cheek. His eyes starts to well up and I try to understand what's wrong with him. He laughs a little. "I love you, and it's killing me... It's killing me, Faith. I can't eat, I can't sleep... All I do is just think about how much I've screwed up." He says, looking down at my knees which are pinned together securely. "I can't stop drinking. It's physically impossible for me to stop drinking..." He starts to tremble as tears start to fall. I stand up, my old instincts getting the best of me, and kiss his forehead. His hands rest on my arms, as my hands lay on the sides of his head. "I don't know what to do..." He cries out, wrapping his arms around me. I take him in, and squeeze him tightly.

We hold each other for longer than expected, leaving it almost painful to pull away. I walk back toward the chair as he stands up, getting ready to head out. He grabs my arm, causing me to turn toward him. He kisses me quickly, pulling away as slowly as possible, and swallowing hard. He looks into my eyes, seeing my absolute shock. 

"I'm sorry, I had to." He says quietly, his voice rasping like it would first thing in the morning. He leaves the room, leaving behind a thick silence. 

I walk into the closet, trying to forget what just happened. I find a tight, black dress, and slip it on, staring in the mirror at how it looks on me. It's pretty, and kinda slutty, but I guess I'm a single woman now, right? 

Right as I start to walk back in the closet for shoes, Tim bursts back in, practically charging toward me. I jump, before he can pin me against the wall and cover my mouth. I freeze as he reaches up my dress and pulls off my underwear hastily. I feel sick to my stomach as he kisses my neck, and starts to undo his belt. 

I try to shout, but the pressure of his hand against my mouth muffles any sound I make. I watch him kick off his pants and underwear, and start pushing himself against me. He removes his hand from my mouth, as he grabs my hips and keeps me close. I try to push away, but I'm still shocked by how quick this attack is happening. 

He kisses me, leaving the bitter taste of scotch on my lips. He places his hand around my throat for a brief moment, whispering something to me as I cringe. 

"I'm so sorry baby. I don't want to..." He whispers, releasing a little grunt. I dig my nails into his side, praying it'll help kick him off of whatever high he's on right now. It fails, and instead leads him to bite my lip hard enough for it to bleed. 

I finally succeed in pushing him away, feeling exposed and violated. He grabs his jeans off the floor and backs up, looking at me as I pull the dress down to cover myself. He releases a sick smile while slipping on his pants, and leaves as if nothing had been wrong. 

I fall onto the ground, and curl into a ball, feeling myself flinch as the pain starts to create throbbing sensations in my body. My body tenses, and I squirm to find comfort. Tears are streaming down my face as I try to get it out of my mind. This is by no means the first time he has raped me. I remember him taking advantage me...

Nobody comes in, leaving me alone on the old, rugged carpet, sobbing like a child.