Storyteller

Chapter 25

Tim POV: 

Faith is curled up beside me on the private jet, as we fly home. I stare out the window, figuring we must be somewhere over Pennsylvania at this point. Faith is out cold, every once in a while flinching in the midst of a dream. I pull a blanket over her, and tuck it around her as her hand grips tightly onto my shirt. 

I start to run my fingers through her hair while I look out the window. I feel her heart rate escalate a little, making me focus on her for a moment. Maybe she's having a nightmare. 

"Hey, baby?" I call out quietly, rubbing the knuckle on my thumb along her cheekbone. She slowly opens her eyes, looking up at me, before rubbing her eyes. The sight is beautiful, until something changes in her eyes. 

She quickly gets up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, before staring at me from the other side of the room. I remain still, not wanting to startle her. 

"Leave." She says, starting to cry. I hold my hands up as if I were surrendering, and slowly stand up. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, watching her carefully. She clenches her jaw tightly and points to the door. 

"I told you to fucking leave Tim." She yells, causing me to jump. I don't want to stress her out, but I'm not sure what I did. 

"Faith, just tell me what happened and I'll go..." I say softly, trying to remain calm. She cries harder, and hugs herself tightly. 

"You fucking hit me... You hurt me, you asshole." She screams, stomping over toward me and hitting my chest. I try to grab her flailing arms to stop her, but in return, she punches me in the jaw. I walk backwards away from her, pressing myself against the door, studying her. A deep pain starts in my chest as genuine fear fills her eyes. 

"What year is it?" I ask her, remembering how I got her to snap out of it last time. She continues to cry, before charging at me again. She punches my stomach, and my head almost simultaneously. I manage to grab her arms, and pin her down on the couch. She screeches, and tries to flail out of my grasp. "Baby, knock it off." I plead, as her leg gets free. Before I can react, she kicks me in the face. 

I fall off the couch, holding my now broken nose. I shut my eyes tightly, and look at her as she begins to wail. I take a deep breath, and look around the room. I spot the bandana she had been wearing, and grab it, before slowly tiptoeing toward her. When she goes to smack me away, I grab her arms, and tie her hands behind her back. She kicks my stomach as I do so, but once she's bound, I can actually begin to talk her out of it. 

"What year is it?" I repeat, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She flails, and tries her hardest to kick me. She finally starts to take a deep breath. 

"2005." She says, before grunting and trying to shake me off. 

"No, what year is it?" I repeat again. 

"2000--" She stops, and starts to look around. She pants, as sorrow begins to hit her. 

"What year is it?" I ask for a final time. 

"2012." She finally says. I untie her hands, before she starts sobbing. She looks at me, before crying harder. "Oh my god... I hurt you." She begins to wail. I shake my head, and hold her tightly. 

"I'm alright. It's okay." I reassure her. My heart aches the tighter I hold her. 

"Shit..." Faith says, pulling away from my embrace and placing her hands on her forehead. "He said it would stop..." She says, covering her mouth. 

"Baby, there's still more tumors that could be causing this. It's something with your memory or near your memory. It'll be fine." I say, although my brain is telling me differently. The pain in her eyes chokes me like a noose. I take a deep breath, and rub her back, trying my best not to let this get to me. 

Last time this happened, Faith locked herself in her dressing room and just screamed for a good hour. I entered the room, the only one brave enough to face the bombardment of her stilettos being chucked my way with intense force. Once I got to her side, she sobbed so hard should couldn't catch her breath. 

There have been some days where she's just not in her right mind in any sense. One day she woke up beside me, and began to shriek, before calling me a murderer and hiding in the girls' rooms. That was only the second time she had ever done that, so the girls had no clue what was going on. They thought I hit her again. 

The doctors have repeatedly told us that it's an unfortunate symptom of her disease, and there's not all too much we can do about it. The tumor she has removed about a few weeks ago relieved most of it, however. That is, until today. 

I'm coming to terms with being her caretaker now. I'm not sure she has yet, but I don't have a problem dealing with most of it. Yes, it's heart wrenching 99% of the time, but someone has gotta do it. Faith is a little stubborn when it comes to giving up some of her independence. Now, she's having a little trouble getting up and down the stairs. She'll try to make it up by herself, but three minutes later and only six steps up, she ends up winded, and frustrated. I carry her up, and place her in bed, making sure to leave a kiss on her forehead so she knows it's okay. 

She and I huddle into the tiny jet bathroom, as she desperately tries to help me, in an effort to keep her own sanity. I watch her as she pours cold water onto a rag, and presses it lightly around my nose. I let her help me, knowing it will be a needed confidence boost. She looks sad as she slowly moves the rag around the area. 

"I'm so sorry." She says quietly, looking at the rag closely. I take her free hand and squeeze it tightly inside mine. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "Tim, don't let me go crazy." She pleads, looking up into my eyes. The pain in her kills me. I run my thumb along her cheek and shake my head. 

"I'll take care of you, baby. It'll be alright." I reassure her. She nods slowly, again addressing my broken nose.