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You Still Go Back
He was waiting. He always waited. It might be early evening. It might be the dead of night. But he waited. The light was on in his living room window when she lifted the flower pot to feel for his spare key.
She had to wiggle it in the lock, like always, and it finally gave, and there he was, waiting for her with a glass of wine and a shoulder to lean on.
He pulled her in his arms, wrapping her up protectively, kissing her forehead, breath warming her skin as she sunk into the comfort he never failed to offer.
"He'd kill me if he knew I was here," she whispered, like she always did, as he pulled out of the hug and led her to the couch, handing her a glass of her favorite brand of red.
"He ain't gonna know," he promised, like always, watching as she raised her glass with a shaking hand and drank the cool liquid down. "You gotta get outta there." Just like clockwork.
"You know I can't." It's the same song and dance. Every time.
He settled down next to her on the couch, watching as the last of the red liquid disappeared between her lips. She wiped at her mouth and put the glass down on the coffee table.
"You're shakin'." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and he gently touched her chin, turning her face toward his. "Let me see." The start of a bruise was forming at her cheek bone, and he winced as his thumb danced over it lightly. She didn't flinch. This pain was normal. It would darken and yellow and finally fade away, erasing every trace of unhappiness and ache she struggled with every day.
"I'm ok," she promised with an unconvincing half-smile that wilted far before it could attempt to reach her eyes. "That's what the wine is for." And then she was in his arms, head nestled against his shoulder as his hand stroked down her arm.
But tonight, his mind was elsewhere, and she could tell in the way he would sigh without realizing, the way his hand would freeze when a thought would cross his mind that really struck him.
"What's wrong?" she asked after a while, tilting her head to look at him.
"Nothin'." He relaxed against the couch, and she reached up to graze her fingertips across his cheek.
"You're always here for me."
And he don't know you come to me. He don't know about me at all. If he did, he'd kill us both.
"I'm alright," he promised. "You need a place to sleep tonight?" She shook her head then.
"No. He'll be passed out when I get home."
But you still go back. Don't you see how good you are? You don't deserve this. Do I?
"You don't gotta go back. You can walk away."
"I can't."
"You can. Maybe you don't want to." The words were out before he had the chance to stop himself. She drew away, and he hated himself. "M'sorry." I ain't sorry. I shoulda said it a long time ago. But you'd leave. You'd leave, and I'd lose you. So I keep my mouth shut, 'cause havin' this with you is better than nothin' at all. Only it's killin' me. But I'd die if it'd make you happy.
"I should go." You always do. And you always come back. Maybe I should stop waiting. Maybe I'm the reason. Maybe if you didn't have me to run to, you'd start running the other direction. Maybe you should. He'll kill you, you know?
"You know he'll kill you." Stop. Just let her go. She knows. Maybe that's what she wants.
"He won't. He loves her too much. He'd give her anything." Her eyes were glassy, and her hands shook as she ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, another thing Ed had taken from her. Stop usin' her as an excuse. She's your kid. She ain't a reason to stay. Bring her, too. I've got room. I'd give you anything. Why can't you see that?
"I'd give you anything." She blinked back the tears and shook her head. He'd said to so often now, it was starting to feel numb against his tongue when he spoke the words. But they were honest words. The most honest words he'd ever spoken.
"You don't want me." Stop it. Stop tellin' me the things Ed's beat into your head. I love you. You fuckin' know it. And I'd kill him if I could. But he'd win, because I'd lose you. She turned to the door, ready to run, and normally, he'd let her. But tonight, he had things to say, and most of them he couldn't. But he could tell her this:
"I can't walk away. But you're always runnin'. Back to him. And then you come back, 'cause he hurt you. And you love your kid. I get that. But who do you think is gonna take care of her when he finally goes too far?"
"Daryl…"
"Stay. Stay with me tonight. We'll go get her tomorrow, and we'll leave. And he can't hurt you again. Just…don't walk out that door." Her shoulders slumped then, and he watched her fingertips linger on the brass door knob. "Don't leave."
"Daryl, I can't."
"You can. Just stay. You don't have to do this." Her shoulders trembled as she struggled with herself, fought every last thing Ed had ever said to her, ever choked into her. "Just stay. You got me. I can't do this anymore. I've been here, but I can't be anymore. I ain't gonna watch you die. So stay tonight, 'cause if you leave, I might not be here when you come back."
"Please stop," she choked out, weeping now as her hand fell from the doorknob. "Please don't do this." He stepped up behind her, reaching out to graze his hand along her arm.
"I ain't gonna stand by your grave, Carol. I won't." She broke then, and he caught her, holding her back against his chest as she bent forward and sobbed. He moved to the floor, cradling her as she wept in his arms, turning to bury her face against his chest.
"I'm supposed to fight," she choked out in gasping sobs.
"You're fightin'. This is fightin'. Right now. You don't ever gotta go back." But you will. I know you will. And someday, you'll understand how I feel about you. It might be too late. But right now, I've got you, and I can't let go. Maybe I should, but just like you, I ain't ready. Maybe someday I will be. Maybe you will be. Maybe this can have a happy ending. But we got each other tonight. I've got you.