A/N: Well, this took me a long time to finish. Well, only a little over a week probably, not that long. I wrote most of it when I was sick over New Years, so it went through many revisions until it sounded just right and not like it had been written by someone delirious from fever. This is all to blame on Love The Way You Lie by Eminem and LTWYL Pt 2 by Rihanna. This also will never take place in Colorado Sunrise, which is where Chinara is from, it was just a whim. A crappy whim, I worry. I'm still getting the hang of writing Deadpool, so if it's terrible I apologize. At least I have lots of time to improve. Right, to wrap this up, reviews are welcome, but please, no flames.

Love the Way You Lie

Chinara set the final box down by the front door, pushing her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She wished she had a hairclip or something for them-the rest of her long white hair was pulled back in a low pony tail but her bangs always got in her way when she bent down a lot. Standing there, she thought for a moment to make sure she had everything.

This wasn't her place after all; it was her 'boyfriend's. They never used those phrases, boyfriend, girlfriend-it was strange to her to think of them-but that's what they were. There was no mention of it to others-she was a private person, she preferred lying low for various reasons, one of them being her psychotic twin brother who seemed to have dedicated his life to making hers miserable.

She'd ended up unofficially moving in some weeks ago-it hadn't started off by choice, her own apartment had become unsafe for her to stay in, so she'd been brought here. Things had died down by now though, or so she was pretty sure anyway. She wasn't used to living with some one. The last person she'd lived with…well…that whole thing hadn't ended well. She was used to living alone, she had liked it when Wade used to come over to visit her, sometimes stay the night. She had been comfortable with that. She just wanted a little space, wanted to be able to have silence sometimes with no one else around.

It wasn't like anything in their relationship would change. She still loved him, he was still the only person who could make her smile and laugh like he was capable of doing, even if he'd been acting strange lately. She didn't know what it was, but he'd been tense the last couple of days, stressed. His easygoing playful attitude seemed forced, as if he was distracted. Maybe he would benefit from some space too. After all, she was pretty sure he was used to living alone before this as well.

"Hooooney, I'm hooooome."

She smiled at the sound of his voice from the other room-he must have teleported in, she rarely ever saw him actually use the front door. He sounded normal, like he did before he'd started acting different, and she could only hope that he was feeling better. She wanted to be able to explain what was going on without him overreacting or jumping to conclusions.

"I'm in here," she replied, moving towards the sound of his voice.

"You won't believe what…happened today…" Deadpool trailed off as he stepped through the doorway from the living room, one hand stopping halfway to the back of his head, his intention to remove his mask completely forgotten about. A cold sense of dread crept over him. "What're you doing?" he asked.

She couldn't say exactly what it was, but something subtle had changed about him from the time he walked into sight to the moment he saw her standing there next to the boxes. She licked her lips, slightly nervous though she wasn't sure why. She couldn't read his expression behind the red and black mask, couldn't smell his emotions-he was the only one immune to that particular gift-and though it made her feel normal, it also unnerved her at times, like now.

"I figured I could move back to my apartment for a while," she replied, her voice calm, "I mean, the danger is gone now, right? So there shouldn't be a problem with that. I'm just…I'm not used to not being in my own place, that's all."

"Why would you want to do that?" he asked, his hand falling back to his side.

She's leaving us. She is not. She is. Let me hear what she has to say first.

"I just mean that'd it be nice being back home," Chinara said with a small smile, "I'm still paying rent on it after all. And maybe some space with our living arrangement would be good."

She's leaving us.

"Shut up," he said out loud and then amended that upon realizing that he had. "Not you," he gestured to Chinara, ignoring her confused 'pardon?' as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "That's how it always starts. 'I want some space,' and then it's 'I want to break up'. Why would you want to do that? I mean, I know I'm not the greatest guy-"

"What? No," she said, her expression bewildered. She'd never meant anything about having space in their relationship, just the fact that she missed her apartment, her home, and wanted to head back there for a while.

Deadpool, however, continued on as if she hadn't said anything, or he hadn't heard her, either way. "-I'm far from it, but I make you happy, don't I? You said it yourself, didn't you? I make you smile or something like that. Is there something-"

"Wade," she tried again to get his attention but it was like talking to a brick wall.

"-I'm missing? Did I make you unhappy or-"

"Wade," she spoke louder this time, crossing her arms.

He fell silent at once, for a whole of maybe five seconds. "You can't leave," he stated, "I love you too much to let you go."

She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. As sweet as that was…in a somewhat creepy way…. "I'm not leaving you," she said, "I just miss home a little is all, it's nothing more than that."

She's lying. Make her stay. How? Figure out a how.

"You're staying," Deadpool said, reaching out to grab her by the arm. This wasn't a good day for this, not after everything he'd been going through lately, the things he hadn't and wouldn't tell her about because they were his problems and he didn't want her to worry. Didn't want her to think he couldn't handle what was going on outside of this house. He wasn't good with sharing.

"Hey!" she protested, trying to resist his attempt to pull her away from the front door. Something wasn't right, he was acting strange again, she didn't…she didn't feel safe right now. "H-hey! You're hurting me!" She didn't know what he was thinking but she didn't like this. Struggling to get free of his too tight grip she did the only thing she could think of. She punched him.

For a moment he stopped still, blinking, processing the fact that she'd hit him. It had been a controlled punch, she'd kept a careful reign on her mutant strength-she'd only wanted to get his attention after all and talking hadn't seemed to be doing anything.

She hit us.

Without thinking, without considering the consequences or anything that would happen after the fact, he returned the favor and, releasing her arm, punched her in the face.

The force of the blow knocked her to the floor. She fell almost gracefully, landing on her side and catching herself at the last second with her hands so that her head didn't hit the ground. Her ears were ringing and it felt like all the air had been forced out of her lungs. Before she even raised a hand to her face she could feel that her lower lip had split, and her gently probing fingers came away streaked with blood. Her hands were trembling she realized as she looked up, lifting her gaze to where he stood.

He was just as surprised as she was that he'd hit her. He hadn't meant to, he'd swore he'd never hurt her, he just wanted to protect her for god's sake.

You fucked up.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, Chinara," he apologized quickly, sincerely, moving to help her up, "I didn't mean to do that, I swear. I'm sorry." He held her close once she was on her feet again, realizing abruptly how small and fragile she seemed in his arms.

She was silent for a long moment, working on catching her breath and waiting for the ringing to leave her ears before she spoke. "It…it's alright." Her heart was racing, and she was shivering still. She was…afraid. She was worried about him. Something wasn't right; something was making him act this way. "I'll…I'll stay here for now, alright?" she added, licking her lips and wincing when the action stung the swiftly healing wound there.

"Alright," he said, but he sounded distant and distracted. Even though he'd just gotten here he was afraid if he stayed right now he'd end up hurting her again. "I'm going to head out for a while, I'll be back later."

She couldn't say why, but something about that sent a chill of worry down her spine, made her stomach twist a little. "Promise you'll be back?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said vaguely with a nod.

Letting go of her he ran a hand gently through her hair before stepping back. Then he teleported and was gone, leaving her standing alone in the hallway.

Hours later found Chinara fast asleep on the couch, the living room dark except for the glow of the television which was playing some old black and white science fiction movie. She'd been unable to stay awake any longer than midnight even though she'd been determined to stay up until Deadpool returned. She was worried about him; she wanted to know he was alright. Those concerns had carried over into her dreams, plaguing her otherwise peaceful sleep.

It was nearing three in the morning when he finally did show up, his footsteps though muffled by the carpet causing Chinara to stir a little from where she lay curled up on her side on the couch. She was drawn further from the depths of sleep when he knelt down next to her, running a gloved hand lightly over her cheek.

"Wade?" she asked sleepily, opening her eyes. Her vision was blurry for the first couple of moments, clearing as she blinked, but she could see him either way.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick from alcohol-she could smell it on him-and something else she couldn't quite figure out at first.

"Wade?" she said again with a frown, sudden worry making her wake up faster. Rubbing her eyes a bit to clear the sleep from them she sat up. She wasn't sure if something had happened while he was gone or what it was, but she had a strange feeling.

"I'm sorry," Deadpool repeated, like a broken record, wrapping his arms around her waist.

A jolt ran through her when she realized that he was crying and at once she reached out to him, her palms coming to rest lightly against the sides of his face. "Wade, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, her words laced with worry.

He pulled away from her touch carefully, ducking his head even though she couldn't see his face because of the mask. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm not ever going to hurt you again."

"It's alright," she responded without hesitation, cradling his head against her shoulder as he cried, comfortingly rubbing his back. "It's alright." She had never seen him like this before, didn't think she ever would, and it had her stomach twisted tightly into a knot. She wished she knew what was wrong so she could help, she didn't want to see him like this. She thought of him as a strong person, someone she relied on at times to remain strong herself, and now there was…whatever had happened to cause this.

She moved to pull his mask off and at first he resisted, trying to draw away, but she persisted until she'd succeeded, setting his mask aside next to her. She'd seen what he looked like on a couple of occasions before and she didn't care, nor was she bothered. She had a few scars of her own that she was self conscious of (nothing in comparison), and because of them she never judged appearances.

"Wade," she said softly, slipping her fingers under his chin to tip his head back so that she could look him in the eye, "It's alright, really. I understand."

"You do?" he asked, processing what she was saying.

"I do," she said with the smallest of smiles, carefully brushing his tears away before leaning in to kiss him. "It's alright."

She kissed him again, softly, tenderly, and this time he kissed her back, pulling her closer. She almost got the feeling that he was desperate to hold on to her, as if he was afraid that she was going to disappear. She wasn't going anywhere though, not if he needed-loved-her, or if her presence would help him with whatever was wrong.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him again, more deeply this time. She wanted to help with his problems or at the very least take his mind off of them for a little while. And, she supposed as she held him close, for a while everything was alright.

Disaster struck again a few days later.

She was getting the last strap secured on her gauntlet when Deadpool came in to the kitchen where she was. At least this time she knew something was wrong at once. She could tell just by reading his body language, noting how tense he was. She hoped things would go smooth though and not start down the same path as they had gone a few days ago.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone guarded, impossible to read.

"I have a job," Chinara replied simply, honestly, flexing her fingers in the glove to make sure it was comfortable, "You know, just like you do. It shouldn't take long though. An hour or two and then I'll be back."

She's leaving. For real this time. She's sick of me. Exactly. A girl like her doesn't want a guy like you.

"No," he said flatly.

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"You're not leaving," he clarified, even though she was still left confused. "I'm not going to let you leave me."

"I'm not-Wade," she gave an exasperated sigh, running a hand back through her bangs, "I told you before, I'm not leaving you. I just, I have to leave this place sometime you know, I have things to do and I can't just stay here all the time."

Sneaking out. She was trying to sneak out while we weren't around. When the cat's away.

"You just want to leave me." His tone was harsh when he spoke, causing her to take a cautious step back. "I should've known. The moment my back is turned you're trying to sneak off."

"What?" she paled a bit, a bad feeling starting now in the pit of her stomach. He wasn't listening to her. She was stating the truth as simply as she could and he just…wasn't listening.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she tried a different approach now, "Just tell me what's wrong and I'll help you however I can."

"What's wrong is the woman I love is trying to leave me," Deadpool said.

He reached out for her arm but she darted back, avoiding his grasp. She started to respond again but he lashed out with a kick to her ankles that sent her crashing to the kitchen floor. Her shin guards hit the tiles with a metallic noise, drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat racing in her ears. This was bad-if she was going to have to fight him to talk any sense into him. She was a full foot shorter than him, weighed maybe half of what he did. Sure she was a mutant-she was fast, strong (though nothing like him), she made weapons out of thin air and she was a trained killer, but all that aside, how were you supposed to fight someone you loved?

"Wade." She was still trying even as she maneuvered quickly to get to her feet and dodge backwards. "Please just listen to me, you're not-" she was cut off mid-sentence when his fist collided with her stomach, doubling her over and stealing the air from her lungs.

While she was disorientated he picked her up under one arm. He carried her out of the kitchen and down the hall, though towards where she wasn't entirely sure. She could hear him muttering to himself as he walked, but nothing he said made sense-something about liars and backstabbers. Looking up a bit as best as she was able to, Chinara realized that he was heading for the basement door-she'd seen his basement once, when she'd been wandering around one day, and she didn't want to see it a second time.

She began to struggle now, trying to think of some way to free herself since talking didn't seem to be doing anything at all. In all her thrashing her fist ended up connecting rather hard with a certain delicate part of his anatomy. With a sound of pain he dropped her at once, both of his hands going between his legs. Well…she hadn't meant to do that, but it had worked all the same.

After she'd hit the floor she got to her feet as quickly as she could. She stumbled a bit at first before regaining her balance and immediately headed for the front door. She would apologize to him later, after he was back in a more proper state of mind.

"F-foul," Deadpool said from behind her, "No hitting below the belt. You're disqualified."

The next moment she wasn't sure what hit her but she suddenly found herself sprawled on the floor and her ears were ringing. Pushing herself up on her hands she saw a knife lying next to her and could only assume that he'd managed to hit her with the handle of it. Sometimes with the way he usually acted it was easy for her to forget how talented he was.

Before she'd gotten all the way to her feet again he'd come up behind her. He grabbed the base of her ponytail, yanking her the rest of the way up and nearly off her feet, and slammed her face first into the wall. Her nose cracked and stars exploded in front of her eyes, but she was used to fighting and without more than a moment to recover she retaliated with a sharp kick to his shin and a punch that caught him across the jaw. Shaking off the blows like they were nothing though he slammed her face into the wall a second time before moving to grab the front of her shirt and lift her all the way off of her feet.

Though she was disorientated and in pain she was still attempting to fight, kicking out blindly. A solid punch to her face brought that to a stop swiftly though as she instead struggled to hold on to consciousness. Her left eye was already starting to bruise and swell up-though it would fade soon-and blood ran down her face from her broken nose.

"W-Wade," she managed, pulling weakly at his hand that held her suspended.

Kill her. She'll only try to leave again.

He drew back his fist, ready to hit her again, but for some reason or another he hesitated.

"Wade, please," she pleaded, silent tears streaking down her bruised cheeks. She was scared and her heart was pounding, having risen into her throat, nearly choking her.

Kill her. She's nothing but a whore.

"No," he said out loud, lowering his fist.

No? Then what are you going to do with her?

"I'm going to teach her not to leave me."

"Wade?" Chinara questioned, utterly confused by what he was talking about.

He didn't answer her though, just began to drag her down the hall once more. She didn't fight this time, she had a feeling it would be useless to try, considering what had just happened.

Her vision was blurry, her head was spinning, and she felt nauseous. Nauseous because she'd never imagined something like this would happen. This was like what Ian had-no, Wade was nothing like Ian, and it was wrong to compare them.

Reaching the basement door he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and began to climb down. Fresh fear seized her and she tried to think of something, anything, to say or do to make things better.

"You…you don't have to do this," she said, "I…I won't go anywhere, I swear."

He didn't respond until he'd reached the ground and was setting her down. "Until you change your mind, you'll be safe here."

Safe? After what had just happened? He could have killed her.

She scrambled to her feet as he stepped away from her, reaching out desperately. "Don't leave me down here, please."

"Don't touch me," he growled, slapping her hands away, "You'll stay down here until I say otherwise."

She took a step back, more than her feelings wounded as she averted her gaze to the floor. This couldn't be happening, this had to be a nightmare or something, just a bad dream.

Turning he headed for the ladder now, which was how he'd gotten down here-there were no stairs, she didn't know why there weren't.

"Don't do this," she pleaded yet again, following after him. She couldn't stay down here for who knew how long, alone, in the dark.

Wordlessly he shoved her back, knocking her off of her feet. By the time she'd gotten back up he'd already reached the doorway and was pulling the ladder up after him.

"Wade, please."

He didn't respond, didn't even look at her, just put the ladder down in the hallway and closed the basement door.

"Wade!"

There was nothing she could do to reach the door, nothing she could use to stand on or assist her in any way. She was trapped. Trapped in the basement of a place she'd once considered a home away from home, a safe place because it belonged to the man she loved. Except over the last few days he had become a stranger.

She shouted until her voice was hoarse, pleading with him not to leave her down here. She kept trying to figure out some way to escape, but the basement was literally bare aside from some useless trash. Turning in circles, with tears stinging her eyes as she tried not to panic, she realized that he wasn't coming back to get her out of here. So, without any way to free herself, Chinara sat down in one of the corners of the basement, drew her knees up to her chest, and cried.

She didn't see him for a long time after that.

She didn't know how many days passed, she had no way of telling the time, but it felt like forever. For that time he didn't come down to see her-no matter how much she yelled-and sometimes she feared he had forgotten about her. Every time she heard him moving around upstairs she would call out to him but she never got any response.

Eventually as time went on she grew too weak from lack of food and drink to even try and get his attention. She couldn't do anything but lie in the corner and wonder if she was going to die down here. Just as she had began to think these sorts of thoughts though the basement door swung open. She flinched at the sound of the ladder being lowered and forced her eyes open.

"Chinara?"

His arms were warm when he lifted her from the corner and she blinked a few times to focus her vision. After a moment she realized that he wasn't wearing his mask or anything, he was dressed like a normal person. Despite everything that had happened it was good to see his face.

"W…Wade," she said, managing a weak smile even as tears stung her eyes.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she buried her face against his shoulder, unable to stop herself from crying. He held her close as he moved to stand, skillfully managing to carry her and climb up the ladder.

He seemed like a completely different person compared to the last time she had seen him. It was almost as if the events of the last few days hadn't happened or were completely forgotten about.

After carrying her up from the basement he sat her down at the kitchen table. Carefully drying her tears as she stopped crying he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead before getting her a glass of orange juice from the refrigerator. She took a sip of her orange juice and licked her dry, cracked lips as she watched Deadpool begin cooking-pancakes. She was afraid to speak even though everything seemed better. She was afraid to do or say something wrong and end up down in the basement again-or worse. She was too weak if anything happened. She wouldn't be able to fend him off and she didn't think she would be able to survive another stay downstairs.

"Wade?" she said eventually, hesitantly.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

She hesitated again, a very large part of her wishing everything was better, though she feared it wasn't.

"I love you," she said.

She was rewarded with a smile. "I love you too, sweetheart."

Things seemed too good though.

Too good with the way he was taking care of her now. He was sweet and attentive and it was…disturbing. She'd never seen him act quite like this and it was almost like a mask, a disguise. She wondered if it was covering up all the ugly emotions and thoughts she feared it was.

Too good because she realized something the next evening. They were sitting on the couch watching old reruns. She was nestled comfortably against his side, her head on his chest, and his arm around her waist. She realized that she was still a prisoner, whether he said it or not, because the arm around her was not only protective but restraining. He was holding her in place, preventing her from getting up.

Nothing had changed at all.

Days went by and she slowly began to regain her strength. Her hands eventually stopped shaking and she stopped becoming exhausted after simple activities. She didn't leave the house the whole time though she also didn't bring it up for fear of what might happen. That is, until one evening.

"Wade?" she said quietly, twisting her fingers together anxiously.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I was thinking…since I haven't been out in so long, maybe tomorrow I could go to the park or something?" Chinara inquired nervously.

"Go out?" he repeated.

He wasn't looking at her but he didn't need to be for her to understand that she'd said something wrong.

"Or if that's not a good idea," she backpedaled quickly, "I don't have to-"

She yelped as he whirled to strike out, ducking and covering her face instinctively, but she would have been fine without moving as his fist only hit the drywall next to her head, punching through. Something wasn't right; he wasn't in the right state of mind still.

She would never admit it, hated to even think it because she always tried her hardest to be strong, but she was afraid.

"I'm s-sorry," she apologized at once, trembling.

"No…no, it's not your fault," Deadpool said, reaching out to wrap his strong arms around her frail frame.

Despite herself she clung close, remembering when once his arms had been a sanctuary instead of a prison. She wished things could go back to how they'd been before. She would give anything for things to be good again.

More days passed and she bid her time while she regained her strength. She knew she couldn't stay here forever; she had to figure out how to get away from him. That was a painful thought though because she still loved him. But…there was only so much she could take before enough was enough. She didn't want to leave him, but…she had to, for her own good.

She waited until one evening after they'd both gone to bed, until she was certain he was asleep. Ever so carefully she eased out of bed, making sure not to disturb him. She knew him to be a heavy sleeper but she didn't know if that still held true given all the recent developments. Either way she made it out of bed without waking him up.

That done she proceeded to get dressed, including all of her Onyxlock gear-shin guards, gauntlet, shoulder guard. They were the most important things she had here, if she couldn't manage to get the rest of her stuff out than that would be fine; she would just buy replacements.

She made it all the way to the front door before things went south, just as she had expected them to. Things had never been easy in her life so she didn't think they would miraculously become easy now.

"Where are you going?"

His voice from behind her made her stop and turn.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair when she saw him standing there, arms crossed.

"I don't know what to tell you besides what I have been," she said, "Something's wrong and you won't tell me what it is. You're not acting like yourself. You're short tempered and unreasonable and you're crushing me. I've tried and I've tried, but I can't do this anymore. I wasn't before, but now I'm leaving you." She took a breath when she'd finished, resisting the urge to avert her gaze. The words hurt to say and she could only imagine how they affected him.

"…So that's how it is then?" his response was quiet, not like what she'd been expecting.

"I'm sorry," she said and she meant it.

Stop her. Kill her. Don't let her leave.

"Just go," Deadpool said, ignoring the voices this time, though also not looking at her.

He knew what she said was true (far too late, but didn't they say it was better late than never?), but he didn't know how to fix what he had done. He wasn't a fixer, he was a destroyer. He ruined things, everything. He ruined everyone he was close to, everything he touched, and this was no different. This was entirely his fault, he was incapable of dealing with his own problems, incapable of stopping them from running amok and driving away the one person he cared about. He had hurt her in so many ways and he couldn't blame her for her actions now. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He was to blame.

"Wade?" she questioned, tilting her head.

He seemed…completely different than how he'd been before, than how she'd expected.

"Go," he repeated.

"I…" I love you. The words hovered at the back of her throat but refused to be spoken. They were still true, she knew they were, but she couldn't bring herself to say them.

Instead she turned and moved for the front door again. With one hand on the knob she hesitated for the briefest of moments. She half turned, just in time to be pulled close, arms wrapping around her. Where she had anticipated an attack she was instead met with an embrace. She closed her eyes, not saying a word, just committing the moment to memory. He nuzzled her hair and she fought back a wave of emotion at the familiar, tender gesture.

"I…" he started, "I'm…"

She waited silently, willing him to finish saying what she thought he was. An apology wouldn't fix things, but it would be a start. It would show that there was still hope, that he really hadn't meant to do all the things he had. With an apology, maybe in time she would be able to trust him again. Maybe.

"I'm…" he started again. Come on…saying 'I'm sorry' isn't the hardest thing I've ever done. So then why can't I say it?

He sighed, shaking his head, and her shoulders sagged a little, tears stinging her eyes. She made no comment on what he'd almost said though. The moment was gone, and an apology after now would be too late. Just like when she'd come so close to saying those three words for possibly the last time.

"Maybe…sometime…a few weeks, a few months," she said quietly, laying her hands over his arms, "We'll meet again. And maybe you'll be past…whatever's wrong. And maybe we can try again." She wasn't sure if she believed that was really possible though.

"Maybe…" his voice was quieter than hers when he spoke, so close to her ear that it sent a shiver down her spine.

He wanted to hold on to her forever, to take her and shake her and make her see that he was sorry for everything he'd done. He wanted to tell her what was wrong, but he couldn't. Was it pride? Or just an inability to communicate his feelings?

"Whatever happens happens," she said, working on keeping her voice even, though it was threatening to break. This was turning out to be harder than she'd thought it would be. "But for now I have to go, and you have to let go."

"I know," he said, just as quiet as before, as though he would break her if he spoke too loud.

He didn't let go of her though, he kept holding on, wanting to keep her in his arms for just a little bit longer.

"Wade…"

His hold on her loosened finally and she slowly pulled away. He was still reluctant to let her go though, his hands trailing down the length of her arms, fingers tangling briefly with hers, almost holding on. He knew he had to let her go, no matter how much he didn't want to.

Without looking back she opened the front door and walked out. She didn't know what she would do if she saw his face again right now. Her resolve might weaken and her heart might twist. So she just kept walking. She wasn't sure what the future would bring, if she would ever be able to give him a second chance. He had lied to her, hurt her, destroyed her trust in him, and no matter how much she loved him her trust would be hard to earn a second time.

Her life had been turned upside down; the one positive constant had been removed, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in its place. She was wounded far deeper than the eye could ever see, beyond the repair of most physical means. She just…didn't know what to do now. She felt weak and alone. She wanted to cry but she refused to, it would hurt even more if she did, but the hurt would grow and fester if she didn't, grow until it consumed her.

She broke into a run down the dark city street, pools of amber from the streetlamps passing her by as she darted through them. No matter how fast she ran though she couldn't escape the heartache or outrun the hole in her life. It was like what she'd said earlier though. Whatever happened happened.