Damaged

The Crow & The Butterfly

"Fitz, we need to talk." Olivia stared at her phone, rereading the message she had sent over an hour ago. She was beginning to panic, her heart pounding against her chest until it felt like it would burst free of her rib cage. The familiar chest pangs had started minutes ago, feeling as if someone were squeezing her heart in two with each breath. It almost made her wish she weren't breathing. Almost.

Her fingers were numb with cold, but still she refused to go inside – to leave her spot on the hard, wooden swing her father had hung from the large, oak tree when she was a child. The slight, steady breeze would have been welcomed in the summer months, but in October, it was a brutal, unwelcome wind. She nearly expected to see snowflakes falling from the overcast sky. Her attention kept returning to her phone – expecting a response from Fitz. Abby had spent a week convincing and building Olivia's courage to confront Fitz with the demons of her past. She was finally ready to come clean with him – to ease the burden on her shoulders and allow herself to heal.

"Olivia, dinner's ready!" She glanced at the doorway at her father's head, barely sticking out into the blistery wind. The warm glow from the kitchen illuminated his features. She sighed, glancing at her phone one last time as the screen lit and her ringtone began playing. She placed a shaky finger to the screen and slid, repeating the motion twice before the screen registered her icy finger.

"I'll be there in a minute, dad," she called, holding the phone in her hand and watching as he slid the glass door shut. Taking a deep breath, she held the phone to her ear, wincing at the cold device, and answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, what's up? Sorry, I just got your text. I was in a meeting with a client." She could hear the jingling of keys from his side and pictured him exiting his firm, locking the door securely behind him and heading to his car. He was probably running through a million different scenarios for whatever case he had just accepted – or declined. It didn't matter with Fitz. He liked to analyze from every angle. It was one of the things she had loved about him.

"It's one of those things that are best to do in person." She twirled on the swing, watching as the rough, brown rope twisted around itself. Her stomach churned as she waited for his response – making her wonder if she really was strong enough to speak to him.

"I'll be at your house in ten minutes. Let me finish locking everything." She could hear the worry in his voice and she didn't blame him. It was unusual for her to text him like that – she kept most things close to her chest and rarely invited him into her world. That decision was more so to protect him than herself. Her world was a dark, uninviting place.

"Okay." She ended the call, standing from the swing and heading toward the sliding glass door. With the jumble her stomach was in, she doubted she would be able to eat, but she knew it would be best to force some food down while she waited on Fitz. Her parents couldn't complain too much if she at least tried to eat.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, her mother escorted Fitz into the kitchen as she pushed her beets around her plate, the duck breast missing the tiniest sliver of meat. She had tried forcing food down her throat, but nothing settled right in her gut. Her apprehension had taken residence in her stomach – leaving little room for food. She watched as her mom fixed Fitz a plate, despite his protesting that he could eat later, and coerced him into a chair at the table. Maya left the room soon after, leaving Olivia staring nervously at Fitz.

"What did you want to talk about?" he questioned. She tried to keep a straight face, to prevent him from knowing just how close she was to falling apart.

"Eat. Then we'll talk."

"I won't argue with that – I missed your dad's cooking." She smiled at that, feeling a bit of her apprehension melt away. He had always been a fan of her dad's meals. When they had been dating, he never missed an opportunity to visit her parents and she often joked that Eli's cooking was the reason. She watched as he dug into the food on his plate. When they had dated, she had made sure that dinner was on the table by the time he got home from work. She felt a twinge at her heart as she thought that he no longer had anyone to do that for him.