Olivia wanted to blame the fuzziness in her thinking on the medication, but she knew better. She knew her thinking was already ruined because of Him, the concussion simply heightened it. The doctors told her to stay off her feet and rest, but she was so restless. Each step in her pacing circle made her uneasy, but she kept on. She had to move, keep her blood flowing. She needed to do something to remind her she was still alive; something to keep the flashbacks away.
She hated Him.
Olivia could still feel Jake on her skin, no matter how many times she scrubbed and bathed. There was no amount of cover-up in her bathroom to hide the bruises Jake's rough hands left on her wrist. Each pill she took to make the fatigue and confusion vanish could not make Jake's force vanish. She hated Him because He put her in this position. He made a fool out of her, once again.
Yet, here she was, thinking about Him. About how much she loathed Him yet wanted Him. How regardless of what He has said to her, how low He has made her feel, she wanted nothing more than to touch His face. He made her feel like nothing, like a waste of space. She was simply skin and bones for Him to use and throw away at His leisure and nothing more. An erection creator. Functional sexually but incompetent emotionally. Yet, she wanted Him. She wanted Him to use her. She wanted to hear Him say "I love you" and "I'm sorry." More than anything, she wanted to believe it.
God, did she hate Him.
How dare He? He came into her life like a hurricane, category five winds swirling and destroying whatever stability she spent her entire life creating. He ruined her sense of safety; it was all on Him. He flooded her with his love, His passion and His promises. A life together, happiness that neither of them had ever known. Olivia did not believe in fairytales but she believed in that man and what He could bring her; what they could bring each other. Work of fiction is what they were. Her mother never read her fables as a child, always biographies and history. Things of substance keep the ignorance away. Clearly not.
Olivia finally rested her body on the couch and wrapped herself in the fleece blanket waiting for her. She imagined the warmth of the blanket being His arms, strong and tight. Filled with love, apologies and promises.
Dammit, she loved Him.
She loved Him. No matter how many times she would yell or scream
"I hate you" and refuse His adoration, it was unspoken and whispered between their souls what she truly meant. They both knew the reality of the situation.
He would call, and she would answer. He will knock on her door and she will answer and even let Him in. She will sit overcome with anger and drowsiness and listen as He professes the truths she so desperately wanted to ignore. She could never escape Him. His damage was done and eternal.
So, Olivia sat there and waited. Her emotions sitting like a house in the calm of the oncoming hurricane: windows and doors un-boarded, disaster kit unmade and unwanted. She shut her eyes and imagined herself sitting on the porch of a home, beautiful and tall and built to last. She could see the eye of the storm approaching, it's dark clouds menacing yet welcoming since it was being preceded by clear skies and sun. The damage would be great, but she knew they would rebuild.
As the eye meets her, the phone rings. And it begins.
