I don't really have much to say in this author's note other than I hope you recognize that Abby's description of worthlessness comes from research on the psychological effects of abuse, and I personally am obviously very against domestic violence. Please review, I love to get feedback.
She didn't recognize the woman in the mirror. That woman had a cut lip, a black eye, and bruises on her neck. That woman had empty eyes—as if everything that made her a person had died and nothing went on in her head. That woman looked like the ones she'd see sometimes in the news, the ones who'd been living with demonic men but for some reason didn't leave. Abby had never understood why they didn't leave. It wasn't like they had 24-hour supervision or anything. They could walk out that door if they wanted to. Or so she'd thought. But now, staring at herself in the mirror, she realized that she was exactly like those women. Growing up, she'd see the news, and she'd think about how awful it was but at the same time how distant. It never seemed like the kind of situation that she, Abigail Whelan, would ever in a million years end up in. So why was she here, looking at her battered body in the full-length mirror in her closet? When did everything change from hypothetical to so very real? In the reflection, she saw Charles enter the closet. Her entire body stiffened as she watched him come closer. She never knew what kind of mood he would be in, and she anxiously awaited his first words to her, as those typically set the tone of their conversations.
"Abby?" He said softly. "Abby, I'm so sorry." He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, before continuing. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I was drunk, it won't happen again."
So that was how this was going to go. Abby felt as though she was constantly reliving this conversation. At the beginning, she'd believed him. She knew that he was stressed with work and was drinking too much. She thought it would stop. She was wrong. He kept on telling her that it wouldn't happen again, but he was lying and now she knew it. Those words no longer relaxed her, and her body remained tense despite his caresses on her shoulders. He brushed back her hair and kissed her neck, right above the bruises that his hands had left on her pale skin.
"I love you, Abby," he whispered into her ear. She didn't answer. He turned her around and grabbed the sides of her face, moving it until she had no choice but to stare directly into his eyes. She tried to divert her eyes downward but he jerked her head in annoyance and she looked back up.
"I said I love you, Abby."
"I love you, too," she replied with no emotion, as if she was just reading it off of a script. It seemed to satisfy him, though. He pulled her closer and placed a kiss forcefully on her lips. She didn't want to respond, but she was worried about what would happen if she didn't, so she surrendered and kissed him back. He wrapped his fingers tightly around her wrist and pulled her out of the closet and onto the bed. Abby remembered the occasional one-night stands she'd had back in law school, when she would eagerly rip the guy's clothes off while her did the same for her. It wasn't like that with Charles. Abby had no desire to have sex with him, she only did it to avoid his anger—she'd learned from experience that attempting to refuse his efforts lead to unwanted 'punishment'. So instead, Abby just lay still in bed while he undressed her and himself. He attempted to enter her but she wasn't ready and she cried out in pain—
Abby woke up, her body shaking and her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that her knuckles where white. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was 4:30 in the morning—two hours before she normally got up for work.
Crap, she thought, before dragging her tired body out of bed. Yesterday had been an extremely long and stressful day, and today wasn't starting off great. She slowly got dressed and then stood in front of the mirror, studying her makeup-less face. If she tried hard enough, she could still see the scar that he'd left on her jaw. It was faint now, but there. She pulled down the front of her shirt and ran her index finger down her collarbone, and then lifted it up and felt her ribs. Everything seemed fine now, but she knew that even if she was physically healed, she would never really be truly fine.
Abby sighed, and put ignored the makeup on the counter. She just wanted to get to the office and surround herself with people to hopefully restore some sense of safety to her life. Although she didn't think anyone would be in this early, Abby quickly exited her apartment and drove to the office. She was surprised to see Olivia, already sitting in her office staring intently at her computer screen.
"Liv? What are you doing here? It's 5 am." Abby said, confused.
"I could ask you the same thing," Olivia replied without looking up. She finished what she was writing and then diverted her attention from the computer. Abby watched as Olivia's eyes surveyed Abby's face and her forehead wrinkled in concern.
"Are you okay?" Liv asked, her voice full of concern. "Is this about the miscarriage? You didn't have to come into work today..." Olivia trailed off and waited for Abby's answer.
"I had a dream—well, I guess a nightmare—about Charles. It was—I just couldn't stay all alone in my apartment."
"Oh, Abby," Olivia sighed, walking over and embracing her friend. "You know that you're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore."
"I know, but I'm just having trouble believing it."
Olivia nodded and led Abby over to the couch where they both sat down. They remained silent for a few minutes before Abby spoke again.
"I could have left, you know. I could have walked out the door and never looked back. I had access to the bank account; I paid all the bills. I wasn't like those women who were financially reliant and didn't even have an allowance or anything. I could have taken as much money as I needed and left. Or I could have called you earlier. Or I could have called the police."
"But you didn't," Olivia said softly.
"No, I didn't."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Abby shook her head slowly, but began to speak anyways. "I knew that I deserved it. That I was worthless and—"
"Abby." Olivia interrupted. "Don't you ever say that again. You are worth so much more to me than you will ever understand, and I need you to understand that."
"That's the problem," Abby replied. "When I woke up from my dream this morning, I didn't think about how much I hated him. I didn't even think about how glad I was to be out of that relationship. Instead, I wondered whether I should go back. Because maybe, that's where I belong. Isn't it possible that I've been fooling myself here? At OPA I've gotten the power to manipulate high level government officials, and, I don't know, maybe it's gone to my head, and I've been picturing myself as better than I really am. Those were the thoughts that ran through my mind this morning, and I'm not even sure that they're that far off from the truth. Maybe this dream served as the reality check that I needed to show me what I'm really worth. Charles always showed me my place in the world, and I think without him I might have gotten too confident."
Olivia looked at her friend in horror. "Abby," she whispered, unsure what to say. "You cannot go back there. That man would have killed you if you hadn't left when you did. No one has ever nor will ever deserve that kind of treatment. I need you to remember that you are special, and you are important, and you are a brilliant woman who deserves all the power that you have. Never think otherwise."
Abby nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks. "After I left, everyone always said that he didn't deserve me. But how do I know that I didn't deserve him?"
Olivia wiped Abby's tears away with her thumb. "Because I am Olivia Pope and you are Abigail Whelan, my best friend, and I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that you deserve a man who would never in his wildest dreams hurt you, emotionally or physically."
"I thought I found that man. I thought David was going to be my second chance at a good guy, but I was wrong."
"He could still be. He cared enough to stay with you in the hospital yesterday; he didn't have to do that. I would have stayed but he told me he could do it."
"I lied to him. He was all apologetic about the baby and I went along with it and didn't mention the abortion."
"Are you going to tell him?"
"I think so. I feel like I have to. And then that will be it for us. He's never going to forgive me for this—he already doesn't trust me because of the Cytron card and when he hears about this it'll be the final nail in the coffin, effectively ending any chances at us being together."
"But you definitely want to tell him?"
"What's the alternative? Dirty little secrets always come out—you've said it yourself. It'll be a hell of a lot worse if he finds out five years from now and I'd been lying the whole time."
Olivia nodded sympathetically. "You're right, it will come out eventually. When are you going to tell him?
Abby shrugged. "I haven't really decided. I'll probably stop by his apartment after work." She sighed. "All I want is for none of this to have happened. If I had never seen him in that bar, I could have just gone on with my man-less life and not had to worry about all the drama with David. He would just be the pain-in-the-ass prosecutor that occasionally dropped by to arrest someone."
Olivia laughed. "He is a pain, but you love him. Do you really want a life without love?"
Abby thought about it for a minute. "Is love really worth the pain?" She asked.
Olivia didn't know how to answer that. Her own relationship with Fitz did encompass a grand amount of pain, but it was worth it, right? The way he kissed, the way he touched her, would she give all of that up to erase the pain? Abby's question had stumped her and she just sat on the couch contemplating. Love was worth the pain, she decided. But a little voice in the back of her brain piped up with a response: "Is it really?"
