I choose me.

Part 7: Cracks in the foundation

"You can't yell at old lady Doherty!" Olivia bellowed at Benny after closing.

"She was on the treadmill for over an hour!" He yelled back, then held his ribs.

"She's seventy-two years old, she's in here five days a week!" She couldn't believe he'd flipped like that.

"Well it bugs me!" He smacked the couch.

"Oh my God! She used clean up your piss at the foster house, she can do whatever she wants! I just had to grovel at her feet!" Olivia yelled at the top of her lungs. He went into the bedroom and slammed the door so hard the bookshelf on the same wall rattled. She gripped the counter, mad, tired and frustrated. Her competition was a week and a half out, and since Benny had gotten home from Vegas, things had been miserable. Not being able to do anything was killing him and he took it out on everyone. The ribs were healing too slowly and he still had swelling in his head. The stress ate at her even more because she felt like she had to check on him twice as much, to make sure he wasn't over doing anything. She quickly checked her phone, not knowing what she was looking for, well knowing, but wouldn't admit it. There had been no contact with Crawford since Benny came home.

While she was doing the dishes he came out in a towel. "Can you wrap me?"

"Wrap your own self." She scrubbed vigorously at a bowl with oatmeal stuck on it, then set it down hard in the ceramic sink.

"Livvy, please come wrap my ribs." He said through gritted teeth.

"Leave me alone!" She slammed a glass she was holding down and it shattered in her hand, blood instantly filled the bottom of the sink, "Dammit!"

"Are you on the rag?" He walked forward and she turned on him, holding her hand out, dripping blood on the kitchen floor.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Am I on the rag? Ever since you've gotten back from Vegas you've been a nightmare! You're miserable, so you're making everyone else miserable. I'm so so fucking sorry I don't want you to die, I'm sorry I asked for a little help so I can focus on me for two seconds and you can't even do that! I'm not on the rag, you are the rag!" Her hand was throbbing now and she was out of breath. Her words angered him badly, she could see that, he took a step forward but she stood her ground and raised her chin.

"When did you turn into such a bitch?" He spat nastily. It was like a direct punch to her heart.

"Maybe it came from carrying you around for so long." She whispered, his hands dropped as she walked out. Deadness filled her, she was so tired. Her nightmares still came in waves even though Benny had been home. That had never happened before. She'd tried to be understanding, patient and gentle with him, but his misery was poisoning her, she walked straight to church, bloody hand and all, right up to the steps of the giant ancient cathedral and into the confession booth. "Father?" She asked.

"Olivia? Are you okay?" Father Kerry slid the window open.

"No I'm not." She said and the window slid shut, then a door opened and closed and her door opened. He took her hand and helped her up. "What happened?"

"I was washing dishes and Benny and I were fighting and I slammed it down." She sighed, he led her to his office and got out a first aid kit, it was in an old white metal box, slightly rusted around the edges.

"He hasn't been to church—" The kind old Irishman cleaned her wound.

"He's so angry—and I understand why, I've tried everything Father. I think he knows he can't afford to take anymore hits. I just feel—I feel—tapped out with him, I've never felt that way. I know he's hurting inside, but there's nothing I can do...I've tried." Olivia looked into his watery gray eyes, looking for answers. He gently bandaged her hand. "You can only help people so much, you can only carry someone so far before they make you drop as well."