I don't really know how to explain this... I hope you enjoy it and can perhaps even relate- please review, let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I own zilch.
Down This Road
Pistanthrophobia
The fear of trusting
"I'm not him" The words seemed to settling in her conscious, weighing heavily in the air as she found herself suddenly realising where she was, her body jerking slightly as she rested her head against the cool oak table.
"What?" The word appeared on her lips as a groan as she tried to pull herself up right but realised that she couldn't face the brightness of the lights above her, burying her head in her hands instead, darkening the world around her.
"I said; I'm not him" He spoke again, his low husky tones filling the air surrounding her as he paced. But they were just words; they didn't make sense.
The taste of tequila on her tongue, the feeling of her heart beat in her head, and the smell of cigarettes seemed to overwhelm her. It was another one of those nights. Almost every night was one of those nights.
"And I can't keep living like this...I can't pretend to be someone I'm not" He was still talking, he wouldn't stop talking. The sounds of his footsteps were thumping against her ears, the sound resounding through her body.
She wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted him to stop. But somehow those words would never appear. She'd simply just sit in silence and watch him while he spoke, pretending that she was listening when in all honesty the words were going through her.
"Can't you see just how difficult this is for me?" He asked finally standing still, but her head still seemed to be spinning. She narrowed her eyes, trying to work out how to end this conversation. She wasn't in the mood to talk. She never was.
"I just need to sleep" She shook her head, getting to her feet attempting to stumble to the door. He didn't move; standing in the same spot, a frown creasing his brow, his eyes pressed closed, his hands curled up into fists.
He wanted to shout at her, shake her until she saw sense but it sunk in that was what she wanted- that was what she expected. So instead he took a deep breath letting all of the anger fade to defeat wanting nothing more than for their misery to end.
She'd already left the room by the time he'd opened his eyes, he was standing alone listening to the low hum of the refrigerator staring at the bottle of tequila standing with indignity at the centre of the table.
With a deep breath he move towards the table, cleaning up the mess she'd left behind knowing that he had no intentions of going to bed until she'd fallen asleep. He couldn't meet her eye and hold back all of the bitter words that were choking him.
He had always known this was going to be hard, it had always been clear from the beginning that things would not fall into place. But he had never wanted to believe she was broken, that she was beyond repair.
A part of him wanted to laugh at how oblivious he had been before he'd fallen in love with her.
There was nothing he could do now- he was trapped in her depression watching her crumble while trying not to do the same. Every day was a challenge. And it never seemed to end. It was as if with the time that passed between them she would have new ways of thinking up reasons why things would fall apart.
As he threw his body haphazardly onto the sofa, rubbing his eyes he realised that maybe things had already fallen apart. Could he honestly keep on loving her if all she ever did was push him away?
With an exhausted sigh he pulled himself to his feet, moving towards the bedroom, she was laying face down on her side of the bed, the movement of her breathing the only thing suggesting she was still alive.
He could remember those early days when watching her sleep had been something special. He had never seen her look so serene, so vulnerable but it hadn't lasted. The nightmares were something she had warned him about.
She had sat across the table from him, her eyes focused on the steaming cup of coffee in front of her as she told him about them. And he had brushed her off, saying that they would talk about that bridge when they came to it.
He regretted ever saying that. Nothing could have prepared him for what it would be like, to be awoken by her screams, the sounds of her sobbing as she battled with the bed spread. His attempts at wrapping his arms around her to stop her flailing had often failed.
Most nights he would have found himself having to move aside, waiting for her to settle again or to wake. She would lock herself away when that happened. He would see the light from her office trickling out from under the door, hear the sound of her foot steps as she paced and the one thing she tried to hide the noise of her crying.
She would appear in the morning with red eyes and a wary smile, and say she was fine, that it had just been one of those nights. He had tried to ask- he had wanted to help but she'd ignored him, reading the paper or drinking her coffee without a word.
The past was just another person living in the house with them- it was a reminder of those years she had survived but somehow never let go of. He recognised as someone who had grown up in a loving stable home he had taken many things for granted.
Love was not something that had been free for her- there had been expectations, demands, and consequences for every action. He would bring her flowers, or by her favourite box of chocolates and she'd stare at him waiting for more- waiting for him to ask for this or that.
And he'd tried to ignore it, shrug it off with a smile and a quick kiss but he would sense her sizing him up. She'd study him when she didn't think he could notice trying to figure out his angle was because in her mind he could never honestly want to be with her.
He found himself thinking about their sex. At first it had amazed him how incredibly perceptive she had been, sensing everything he wanted and being able to give him without a moment's hesitation. But the longer they'd been together the more he'd see it; the emptiness in her eyes when they made love.
It became more than clear that she would act as if she was supposed to, while her mind shut off, her body working separately. He'd find himself catching her gaze as she focused on an object, a particular tile on the ceiling- the way she'd be willing herself to be anywhere else.
As sad as it made him he realised that all he could do was try to keep proving her wrong. Not that it mattered- she still expected him to be like every other man that had ever been in her life.
He had taken to waiting for her to initiate intimacy thinking that perhaps by not pressuring her that would change- that she'd look at him in the same adoring way he looked at her. It hadn't worked. They'd just stopped having sex and his attempts at trying to explain were dead ends. She'd simply just narrowed her eyes- telling him the tread carefully.
That was a lie. They hadn't stopped having sex. The nights she'd drank a bit too much he'd find himself been awoken by her roaming hands. He'd looked at her wish she'd just stop but he never managed to say it.
It didn't mean anything- it was just...fucking.
And after all of this time he couldn't take that anymore- he wanted for once something real from her but it was too much to ask. Or at least from the way she would look at him when he told her it would seem that way.
She would claim she had committed to him and surely that was enough- she was there- most men wouldn't complain.
Her self esteem was something he avoiding talking about. It was something, despite every want, he never mentioned. He could imagine the way she would carefully watch him before she lost her temper telling him it was none of his business why she was the way she was.
She didn't have to tell him- but it was written so clearly in her behaviour.
He held his breath as she shifted beside him, rolling over; her back to him as her shoulders shuddered slightly with the effort of her laboured breath.
They'd stopped talking. They had always been so honest with each other, been able to talk about anything and everything but now all she did was shut him out, push him aside. He had just become another part of her life that required far too much work.
At first he'd tried, making dinner, bringing her breakfast or just by simply setting aside time to try and get her to open up but she never did.
He closed his eyes trying to force sleep, he couldn't keep thinking, he knew that it would drive him insane and he would make a decision that he didn't want to. In the end it was exhaustion that won, his body giving up the will to keep fighting his mind falling into darkness.
The morning light flooded through the windows, dancing with the dust as it glittered in contrast to the room. He pulled himself up, taking a deep breath of the stale air casting his eyes over her sleeping body beside him.
The decision seemed to come from nowhere.
He needed to leave. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't keep waking with the feeling of foreboding; he couldn't keep trying to save them both because now they were both sinking.
By the time she had woken up he was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee steaming away slowly in front of him, his suitcase at his side. A cup had been set on the opposite side of the table for her.
"What...Where are you going?" She asked sitting down opposite him with a yawn.
"I'm leaving..." He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the dark liquid swirling in the cup in front of him, not being able to meet her gaze knowing that he was breaking her heart.
"Okay...when are you coming back?" She pressed her eyes closed; resting her head against her hand taking a sip of the coffee he had made for her.
This was it- he was going to have to tell her- he had no intentions of coming back- he needed to get out.
"I'm...not coming back" The words seemed to still the atmosphere as she peered across the table at him trying to figure out what was happening- what it was that he was saying. "I can't do this anymore...I think we both need some space"
"Space...Of course..." She gave a small laugh, and it struck him in that moment that this was what she had been waiting for all of this time. She had known that things between them weren't going to last, and this moment, this conversation was on the horizon.
"I love you...but I can't...We can't...live like this..." He shook his head wanting to justify it to himself. Surely- if he loved her- he should have stayed, tried to make things world. "It's not fair on either one of us"
"Can I ask why?" It was a loaded question- she was waiting for him to tell her that it was her fault that they had gotten to this point.
"Don't do this" He shook his head pulling himself to his feet. "This isn't going to help either of us...I have to go..."
She didn't say a word- she just sat there, waiting for the sound of the door slamming to indicate that he'd gone- that it was okay to break down.
The feelings seemed to overwhelm her even when she attempted to push them aside, numb her mind to what had happened because in the end had it not been predictable?
A frustrated groan escaped her lips as she knocked the cup of coffee off the table, watching as the liquid spilled across the titles, the china shattering into small pieces. She found herself staring at the shards not being able to move, stuck in that spot as everything sunk in.
She stood up making her way towards the door, a part of her wanting to stop him, to tell him to come back. But in the end wasn't this what she had expected to happen; still she couldn't suppress the sob that escaped her lungs, tears rushing past her eyes lashes sinking to the.
He could hear her crying- his heart breaking at the sound- as he leant against the front door. He couldn't do it. He couldn't walk away that easily and while every part of him wanted more than anything to go his heart was stuck. He had promised her that he wouldn't be like the others and by leaving he was simply just following suit.
He couldn't do it.
Taking a deep breath he turned around, unlocking the door, stepping back into the house. She was on the floor, huddled against the wall, tears streaming down her face. Without a word he pulled her into his arms, holding her despite her attempts at fighting him off.
"You can't do this to me...you can't just-"But he'd silenced her with a kiss, the taste of her tears lingering on his lips as he looked into her eyes.
"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." He muttered to her, breathlessly talking between kisses. "I'm not going any where...I promise..."
"I'll change...I promise...I'll be different..." She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shirt, refusing to let go of him.
"We can work through this...I'm not like him...I'm not like them...I'm going to leave"
The End