Amelia

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The ache in my heart was too crippling to bear.

That night, that night, I'd gotten inside just before Alexander's car had pulled up the drive. I hadn't even waited for him, instead rushing upstairs to hop in the shower. My tears ran with the water as it cascaded over me, but it felt too much like I was washing Fin off of me, and the guilt came back to gnaw at me tenfold. I put Fin's t-shirt back on under a long white robe, needing to somehow have a piece of him close to me. Alexander was in the room when I emerged, and my apology for not greeting him was spoken as if on autopilot.

"Of course, dear. You were in the shower, hoping to primp yourself before I came home. How can I be angry at that?" That wasn't the case, but I nodded anyway, glad I didn't have to come up with an excuse. "Besides, I am home a tad earlier than expected. All thanks to my brilliant negotiating skills. I had those men eating out of the palm of my hand!" He was too busy stroking himself to notice my dejectedness, and for that I was glad. I didn't have it in me to pretend just then, wanting to simply wallow in my own misery. Eventually, Alexander went to bed, and I choked back the sobs as I tried to sleep.

Since then, I'd told Alexander that I'd fallen ill over the holiday, and it wasn't too hard to convince him and everyone else that that was true. I looked absolutely horrible; my eyes were bloodshot from crying so much, my nose was red and cracked, and my complexion was so pale I rivaled the sheets. Mrs. C. hadn't let me alone, constantly checking my temperature and brining me hot soup and cider. There were moments when she'd stop at the end of the bed and stare at me, as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it and left. I knew that she knew.

My phone sat next to my bed and I constantly tapped at the screen, alternating between wanting to call Fin and knowing that the best thing I could do was let him go. It wasn't fair of me to continue with this...whatever it was. I was only hurting him. I was treating him like a toy, sneaking him into the house when my husband was gone, traveling to the next town over to meet, and forcing dates to be private and in his home. I'd even forced him to lie to his family. Although he'd never said it, I knew that it had hurt him.

I had hurt him.

I couldn't keep doing that to him.

By Thursday I knew I had to get up. It took me an hour to convince myself to get out of bed, and I threw myself into the shower, scrubbing my skin raw in an attempt to wash this black cloud off of me. Afterwards, I stood in the bathroom looking at my reflection, gauging the red streaks on my arms from my harsh scrubs. My eyes widened when I took in the harsh red hickeys that dotted my neck and the tops of my breasts.

Are these from...Holy cow, how did these not fade yet!?

More importantly, how had no one seen them while I was too busy wallowing in self-pity?

I found a dark blue turtleneck in the closet that covered the marks nicely. I wasn't sure if anyone had noticed them yet -Alexander had asked me to sleep in the spare room so I didn't get him sick, and we hadn't been sharing a bed- but I wasn't taking any chances. Of course, covering them only made me feel worse. It solidified what I'd been thinking about my relationship with Fin: I had to keep him a secret from everyone.

Alexander had already left for work and Sarah had taken the day off, so it was just me and Mrs. C. in the house. When I finally made it downstairs, I noticed the stack of fluffy white pancakes the old woman had left for me, along with a cup of orange juice and the morning paper. Somehow, she knew I'd get out of bed today, and yet she was still giving me the space I wasn't sure I wanted but knew that I needed.