I Hear You

Part 11: Hiding Behind A Smile

Walking into work this morning, I try so hard not to limp or stiffly move across the atrium. I keep my head up and my smile on my face, but just below the surface is all the pain in my body. I have to be fine. I have to be normal. I can't be upset.

Tears.

They're on the verge of coming to my eyes. I can't cry. Not here. Not now. Not ever. I just keep my head held high and stay poised like the good girl Mum always said I was. The pretty girl my Father always said I was.

But I'm not.

I'm nowhere near poised.

I'm nowhere near pretty.

"Dr. Sharpe!" I shutter in my skin. His voice cracks through my body like lightning hitting a tree. He's upon me before I can even blink. Pressing a tender kiss to my cheek, Cassian hands me coffee as we continue to walk. "How are we this morning?"

Broken.

"Great. Thank you." I mustn't let him think I'm bothered by him. Weakness feeds the predator.

"Perfect. And hey, I'm sorry about last night. It won't happen again. I promise." He kisses me again and we make our way to the elevator. Why in the world do I fall for this? For men, who are barbarians and devils?

"That's alright. Don't mention it." His eyes scan me and I just give him a small smile before sipping my coffee. He smiles back at me and puts an arm around my shoulders as we enter the elevator.

"So, I made us a reservation tonight for dinner at The Tavern. I haven't been there yet and it looks pretty cool."

"When I get back, we'll have lunch at The Tavern. My treat." He looks at me with his big blue eyes and says nothing. I walk away and he finally speaks.

"I like her...if she comes back, let's keep her."

Oh Max. I fucked up. I fucked up bad.

"So I'll meet you in the atrium at 6:30. Okay?" We're already at my office and I barely remember getting here. Was I that spaced out? He looks down at me and places a hand just above my right elbow and he squeezes, taking my attention. "6:30. The atrium. Don't be late."

He pecks my lips and saunters off. Getting in my office, I shut the door and lock it. Going to the bin, I feel so sick. I can't contain it. Releasing what little I had in my stomach, I hold onto the bin and cry as I sit against the front of my metal desk. I can't do this. I can't. If I don't show up, he'll be mad. He'll be furious and torture me. If I show up and pretend I'm happy and in love- he'll be nice. I can't tell anyone. If they know, he will find out. He's a great actor. Charismatic and charming.

Internal struggle is where I'm at. I can't even begin to think about my day. I can't even begin to think about tonight. My phone goes off and I don't even want to know who it is. Looking at the caller ID it's Max.

"How can I help?"

You can't.

You can't help.

Hitting ignore, I slide my phone into my purse and set the bin aside. How do protect what I don't have any more? Myself. How do I protect myself? I'm passed that. I'm passed help. I wish I knew how to fix this. How to fix me. Because I can't fix anything. I'm the destroyer of my own hope. I'm not strong. I'm not confident. I'm not anything more than a piece of paper crumpled up, stepped on, shredded, soggy, and dissolving on the bottom of a dumpster. I am nothing. I've always been nothing. I will continue being nothing for as long as I live. I understand now why his wife divorced him.  She got out from under his abusive hands. Can I? My phone goes off again. Picking it up, once more it is Max. I cancel the call a second time and decide turning my phone off is probably for the best. I don't want to talk to him. He'll know. He'll know something's wrong.