A/N special thanks to my amazing beta plainjanedee
Warning! This chapter talks about miscarriage. If this is a trigger for you, please do not read!
The Storm
Present day
The pain was excruciating. Searing and burning right into what was left of Jake's shattered soul. He couldn't fucking take it. The anger. The shame. The guilt. The constant fucking reminders. He could barely stomach looking himself in the mirror, let alone being the husband Bella needed, or a father to Poppy.
Four months. His beautiful wife should've been four months pregnant. Her stomach should've been blossoming and swelling with their second child. His daughter should've been excited about being a big sister. He should've been painting the nursery instead of rotting in this motherfucking prison. They should've been making love for hours and enjoying her increased sex drive instead of barely talking to each other and sleeping in separate rooms.
It shouldn't fucking be this way, and it was all his fault. If only he'd been paying attention, then maybe their unborn child would still be… Fuck!
Pulling the garbage bag from the trash can, Bella hurriedly grabbed her purse and keys from the counter and called out to her 4-year-old daughter. "Honey, time to go!"
Casting her gaze over toward the shell of a man she used to call her husband, her already broken heart cracked even more. He didn't care anymore. She wasn't even sure if he still loved her. He hadn't kissed her since that fateful night, hadn't touched her since she came out of hospital. She knew that he was grieving and dealing with his own injuries, but Christ, she missed her husband. The stranger she shared her home with now wasn't the man she married. He hadn't showered for weeks, hadn't cut his hair or shaved, and he sat in complete and utter carnage and destruction surrounding him.
With tears stinging her eyes, Bella asked in a low, timid voice, "Whilst I'm at work, would you mind cleaning up a little? I don't really want our daughter to keep coming home to broken vases and beer bottles."
Taking a hearty pull of his current beer, not caring that it was barely 8am and Bella was watching his every movement, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever."
Pursing her lips into a long, thin, frustrated line, her nails tapped the granite countertop. "Whatever," she echoed, dejectedly. A sadness weighed on Bella's heart as she watched the man she loved drink his life away. What happened to them? Six months ago, they could barely keep their hands off each other. That's just how they were - passionate, in love, happy. And now? Now he could barely look at her. She was a fleeting moment in his life, and she wasn't sure she liked the man he was becoming.
Bracing her palms on the edge of the kitchen island, her head hung low between her shoulders in defeat. She couldn't take anymore. "Jake, this has to stop. I get that you're hurting. So am I. But pushing away everyone who loves you isn't the answer," Bella told him, practically begging; the fear in her voice was evident.
Silence greeted her. "Baby, please, talk to me," she pleaded, as she rounded the counter, desperate to hear his voice.
"What's the point," Jake's cold, uncaring tone answered, his vacant eyes trained on the T.V. in the far corner of the room. "You don't get it. No one does."
Cautiously, Bella walked toward him, terrified he'd tell her to leave him alone. "Then help me understand, honey-"
With his face twisting and contorting in irritation, he sighed angrily and wheeled his wheelchair away from her. "Don't fucking give me that sweet, loving wife bullshit, Bella. We both know you hate my guts, so quit fucking babying me and leave me the fuck alone."
Her entire body recoiled as if she'd been slapped, his hateful words cut through her like a salt-tipped knife. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice broke as tears glistened in her eyes. "I'm your wife, Jake, I'm trying to help and all you're doing is shutting me out!"
Nothing. More deafening silence as he picked up an almost empty beer bottle and brought it to his lips, gulping down the remnants.
"Goddammit, Jacob!" She yelled, finally losing what little patience she had left. "This has to stop! Enough is enough! I know you've been through hell, but so have I! You aren't the only one grieving! I was there! I suffered the miscarriage! Not you! Me! So stop treating me like shit! I'm hurting, too! Our daughter's hurting, and she needs her father! But you don't see that because you're so lost in this pity party you're throwing for yourself! It isn't right! All I've ever done is love you! I never blamed you, never told you it was your fault, never believed it was your fault! So why are you doing this to me?! To us?!"
Hastily spinning around in his wheelchair, Bella's husband of eleven years faced her with disdain marring his handsome face, his eyes narrowed with rage. "What aren't you getting about this fucked up situation, Bella?! I'm a goddamned cripple! I can't fucking walk, play with my daughter, make love to my wife, or take a goddamned piss when I want! And it's MY FAULT! I'll never be able to hold our unborn baby, because he's dead! Because of me! I'm the one who was driving! I'm the one who has to live with that for the rest of my motherfucking life! Me! Not you! I can't fucking breathe with the guilt of knowing that I hurt you! I wake up sweating every goddamned night because I can still hear your screams! I can still see your face as that car slammed into you! And I live with the fact that I couldn't do shit to help you or save our child because I can't fucking walk! Fuck, Bella, I killed our baby, I almost killed you and I'll never, fucking never, forgive myself for that."
"Baby," Bella whimpered, falling to her knees in front of him as tears of desperation streamed down her cheeks. Taking his hands in hers, she sobbed, "You didn't kill our child; it was an accident. It was not your fault. And if we're passing blame, then you should blame me for what I almost did to you at that junction. If I hadn't instigated it, you would've seen the deer, our baby would be alive and you wouldn't be in a wheelchair."
Snatching his hands from hers, he scoffed incredulously and backed away. "Who're you trying to convince, Bella? Me or yourself?
Sagging against the couch in exhaustion, Bella shook her head in shocked disbelief. "How did we get here?" She whispered, as more tears fell. "We were so happy."
Grunting, Jake's cold stare was trained on the fireplace. Swallowing hard, he cast his eyes down toward his legs. "You should take Poppy to your mom's and stay there for a while."
Bella's tearful gaze snapped to his. "W-What? What do you mean? This is our home, Jake." Her heart was beating so fast in her chest. A gunshot would've hurt less.
"I'd leave, but as you can see, I'm kinda fucking stuck here. Trapped in this hellhole," Jake seethed, maliciously. "And it's my home, Bella. My mortgage-my house." The pain she felt in that moment... God, it was insurmountable. This was it. She felt it deep in her bones.
"So that's it? You're kicking your wife and daughter out of their home? You're not even going to fight for us?" Hurt bled from every pore on her body. Was he really going to do this? End them?
"Nothing left to fight for," was his only reply.
Unable to believe that somewhere along the line, this nightmare had morphed into Bella's life, she swiped her tears with her hand whilst struggling to catch her breath. Standing shakily to her feet, she smoothed down her dress before making her way across the hall. "I guess you're right," Bella replied in a quiet and trembling voice. "I'm sorry we couldn't be enough for you."
