My Life Without You

Chapter 9: Truth Is (Continued)

​Valerie wakes up to a quiet home. The clock on her nightstand blares 10:15. It's been almost three hours since Valerie drifted off to sleep. She climbs out of bed slowly, feeling a little groggy. She notes the full moon outside, peeping between the patches of dark clouds. She hears cracks of thunder in the distance. Small raindrops dance upon the roof.

Somethings off. Val notices something missing. She begins looking on her desk, and on the floor. She opens every drawer. Where's my fucking diary at? She opens each drawer again, moving around the contents inside—nothing is there. She goes over to the window where she sits sometimes—nothing is there either. "Where the hell is my stuff? I know damn well I didn't move it. Or did I?" she said.

The raindrops becomes a little louder as the thunderous storm begins to roll in. Her heart is pounding heavy. Did I move it before I laid down? She rubs her forehead. I don't remember... She paces her bedroom floor, before finally descending down the stairs.

​Val notices her husband is on the couch. Rick is sitting in the living room—his gaze is  fixed, staring into the darkness. He's sitting on the couch with his legs planted wide on the floor beneath him—his forearms firm upon his legs, his body leaning forward.

​Valerie walks over towards the lamp, "Babe, why are you sitting in the dark?" She flicks the switch, illuminating the room, allowing herself to see him clearly. His eyes are cold—his face tight. But he remains still. "I didn't hear y'all come in. Why didn't you wake me?" she said. She didn't stand there to wait for his reply. Instead, she continues her search.

She glances over her husband as she paces the floor—still looking for her journal. "I would've put the children to bed," she adds. She begins looking around the dining room, flipping over papers and magazines. She searchers the kitchen drawers—opening and shutting each one, but still, nothing is there. She blows her breath out heavily. She pauses, her hands planted on her hips. "Hey babe, have you seen my journal? I thought I left it on my desk in our room, but it's not there.

​Rick reaches for the pen off the table in front of him. He taps the pen in the palm of his hand repeatedly. He's speechless, he continues to stare out the window.​

Val raising and holding her eyebrows, she waits a moment while waiting for a response from her husband. Nothing... She begins walking back towards the living room—her eyes now focus on her husband intently. "Babe, have you seen my journal?" she asked again. This time being sure her husband hears her. She knows something is wrong.

Did he take it? Is he hiding it from me? Hell, did he go through my purse? If he did, then he knows everything. Please lord, tell me my husband didn't go through my personal stuff. Don't tell me my husband has read my journal or found the test...

Touching his shoulder, "Babe, what's wrong?" 

Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Rick glares at Val for a moment, his nostrils flaring. He begins to crack his knuckles. Val notes his veins in his neck bulging outward, he appears to be irritated about something. He turns away without a word.

"Baby, did I do something wrong?" she ask calmly. She was actually scared of his response. She didn't want to find out he went through her personal things.

He looks at his wife sharply and rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back towards the window. Still nothing...

Rick's glowering looks frighten Valerie. She has never seen her husband look so angry, so distracted in thoughts that she seem unable to discern or pull him out of. She feels sick to her stomach. The anxiety she feels shoots through the roof. Her palms are sweaty now, her legs feel weak as if to cave in.