Tamed

Chapter Eight: Bruises

Charlotte (Present Day)

Ollie is right. I won't say those words out loud though.  It wouldn't do me any good to give him that satisfaction. 

            I don't want him to tell me what he has to say.  No matter what it is, it won't change anything.  It will only make a difficult situation harder and I've spent years trying to distance myself from feeling that way.

            It didn't work obviously.  My failed engagement is a prime example.  I'm still trying to clean up that mess as well.

            The silence continues to cling to every bit of air between us and I suddenly feel like I'm suffocating.  Without an explanation, I turn away from him and head straight for the front door.  My lungs inhale the cool, fall air as soon as I step outside and walk over to the railing.  I grip the edge and take another deep breath.

As if on cue, Ollie's footsteps echo on the wooden boards of the deck behind me and the screen door squeaks closed.  I brace myself for what's about to come out of his mouth. 

            But I bet it won't be what he should say. 

            "I didn't come here to upset you." 

His voice is soft and I close my eyes at the sound. It used to be so calming to me. Now it makes my stomach twist in knots to the point where I might throw up. 

God, why does everything about him have to be the same? The way he smells, the way he speaks to me.  All of it makes me want to turn around and jump into his arms and tell him that I missed him every second that I've been gone.  That I never let myself love another person the way that I loved him.

Because, damn it if I didn't try.  I tried so hard to replace his memory with someone else. When I finally turn around to face him I remember exactly why I never did.

Ollie has his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jeans and the thread bare grey T-shirt clings to the muscle in his biceps. He still looks so good that it's a shame such a beautiful man can be such an arrogant prick. But his face is sad.  He looks as wrecked as my heart feels and that makes me so angry.  It also makes me sad, but anger seems to be overtaking everything else at the moment.

I pull my thin, tan sweater around me and lean back against the railing.  "It's not entirely you," I say finally.  "All of this is a lot to deal with without adding more heavy shit on top of it."

He nods.  "I get that."  He takes a breath.  "—but I just want to know you again.  It doesn't make sense that I've gone this long without you in my life."

"You seem to be doing just fine."

"How do you know?" he ask, anger tinging his voice. He grunts something under his breath and then runs a hand roughly through his hair before facing me again. "How do you know how I feel if you won't let me talk to you?"

The frustration in his voice almost makes me believe him. But I can guarantee he didn't suffer like I did. Maybe he's feeling some type of way right now, but I doubt it kept him up at night. I doubt he cried himself to sleep so many times that he questioned if he'd ever be normal again. That he prayed that the hole in chest would finally close so he could breath again.

That he's still holding his breath.

I shake my head, silently praying that he'll just give up and go back across the street. I've never been strong enough to survive him.

"I don't need you to."

"What about what I need?"

A laugh escapes me, but I can't seem to formulate a response.  I've always put his needs ahead of mine.  He may have promised to always be there for me, but when it came down to it, when I needed him the most—he wasn't.