Thank you to keepthefaithx, Glamagirl, Team McOrton, xsostarstruck, rkofan2012, xAracnaex and BigRedMachineUK for reviewing the last chapter :)
Hope you enjoy this Maryse-centered chapter.

IGNORANCE

Sitting on the edge of the bed in the doctor's office, a small scratch began to form in the back of Maryse's throat, eliciting a small cough from the blonde beauty. "Would you like a drink, Maryse?"

Dr Charles Underwood turned around from his computer. Having been her doctor for almost six years, Charles knew exactly how Maryse's body worked and what it needed at every moment.

She dug into her handbag and pulled out her small stash of pills and her water bottle. "I'm like this all the time at the moment." She wheezed her words before throwing back a couple of the pills along with a mouthful of water. "Perhaps these aren't strong enough anymore. Am I in line for a new prescription?"

Charles opened his mouth to speak but didn't know quite how to come out with the words. "Why don't you sit down here?" He patted the chair opposite him, and Maryse obliged. "I know it's going to be annoying but can you recall the symptoms you've been putting up with?"

"It starts with my throat," Maryse said, steadily and calmly. "It feels like it's closing up and the air stops travelling there. From there, everything gets a little worse. My head...it feels like I'm underwater or something and my eyes go cloudy. Sometimes my legs buckle underneath me but once I've taken a couple of pills, everything...goes back to normal."

"And how often does this happen?"

There was that catch in her throat again. "It used to be every week, sometimes every two."

"And now?"

Maryse coughed, clearing the irritation. "Every day." Her voice went soft. The sudden stress made her head feel heavy on her neck. "It's not good news, is it?"

"You've been coming to me once a month for almost six years," Charlie began, agitatedly tapping his pen against the wooden desk. It was such a distraction that Maryse wanted to throw it out of the nearest window. Luckily, once Charles saw the death stare she was shooting him, he placed the pen down and clasped his hands together. "I thought perhaps we were making progress but as you can see, the drugs aren't working therefore it appears we've...hit a wall."

'We've hit a wall'. Maryse hated that expression. Perhaps her doctor had hit a medical wall but Maryse could feel herself speeding down a very dark tunnel in a car with no breaks. The catch in her throat was growing by the second into a large lump. "Do you know how much time I have left?"

Charles nodded. "Do you want to know?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not."

"Then don't tell me." Either she could live the rest of her short life in fear, counting the days or spend it in ignorance. And wasn't ignorance supposed to be bliss?

Except for she wasn't in complete ignorance. She'd been ill for six years and the effects were starting to show; her bathroom cabinets were filled with medication, her hair was shedding and she was physically much weaker. Being ill was affecting every aspect of her life. What kind of life was she living? This was no life, it was a meagre excuse for one. Soon enough, her body would reject the pills until she was nothing more than another body in a hospital morgue. To say she was scared was an understatement.

"Well, thank you, I guess." Maryse picked up her handbag and slipped on her jacket. "I have to get to work."

"Ah yes, The Dollhouse." Just because Charles Underwood was a doctor, didn't mean he didn't have a few shady secrets up his sleeve. "Actually, I wanted to know if you were free tonight."

"I can't do any time after nine." She said from the doorway. "How's seven for you?"

Flipping through his Filofax then snapping it shut, Charles suggested, "My hotel room?" Maryse nodded in confirmation. "I'll bring my chequebook."

In fact, Maryse found it to be the men that seemed the cleanest that actually had the dirtiest secrets of all.

Once she was out of the surgery and on the sidewalk, the blonde held out an arm, waiting for a taxi to stop next to her. In the past it was her beauty that had got her many a taxi and that day was no exception. She occasionally wondered how her beauty had not been affected by the illness.

Getting into the backseat of the first cab to pull up, Maryse directed the driver a couple of blocks from The Dollhouse – after all, being dropped at the door wasn't exactly a discrete way to cover her profession. Throughout the journey, it was impossible for her to ignore the driver constantly staring at her in the mirror. In some ways, she wasn't surprised. Catching a man's attention wasn't a rarity.

"Have I seen you before somewhere?" Reaching a red light, he turned around to speak to Maryse.

Of course you have. You came into The Dollhouse three days ago and I even gave you a private dance. You were too busy staring at my tits and ass to even register my face, much like all the other jackasses that get their kicks in there.

"No, I don't think so." The blonde shook her head. She was used to the lingering 'Have I seen her before?' glances. Outside the club, how were they to know she was a stripper? In skinny jeans, a grey sweater and black jacket, she could've been anyone.

"You just seem really familiar." He carried on, turning back around to drive.

"I think I go in this cab a couple of days ago?" Maryse shrugged innocently, keeping up the charade until she paid the driver and got out. She quickly walked the short distance to the back door of The Dollhouse and let herself in, making her way straight to the large dressing room the strippers shared.

"Hello Maryse,"

"Good afternoon, Maria," Maryse greeted the beautiful redhead sat in front of the mirror, curling her hair. Just like Maryse, Maria had come to New York a dreamer. With little more than a suitcase and a guitar, the Chicago native had dreams of being a famous singer. In The Dollhouse, however, no-one cared what her voice sounded like, as long as she looked good. Although she kept a strong front and never admitted it, Maryse could tell Maria was dying inside.

"Kevin's looking for you," Maria informed, not taking her eyes away from her reflection. Normally Maria was friendly but today she seemed distracted. "You have to go see him ASAP."

"Did he say what it was about?" Maryse removed her jacket and placed her bag down.

Maria shook her head. "He just said it was urgent."

Leaving the redhead in peace once again, Maryse walked across to Kevin Nash's office, wondering what her boss wanted. "Kevin?" She tapped on the door. "It's Maryse."

"Come in," He called.

"You wanted to see me?" She entered the small office and sat in the seat opposite him.

"Yes, yes." He turned away to slip a cassette into the VCR and on the small television set next to him appeared CCTV footage from two weeks ago when Ted had shown up at The Dollhouse. "Do you remember this?"

"Yes."

"Can you explain to me what's going on?"

"He was completely wasted." Maryse defended instantly. "He was being extremely disrespectful and saying lots of personal stuff-"

"You know this guy?"

Damn. "Yes."

"So he pissed you off and in response, you hit him?"

"In hindsight, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to do." Maryse winced as her slapping Ted replayed on the screen. "But I was-"

"Maryse, you know we have a strict no violence policy here." Kevin lectured, turning off the television. "That's why we have security to deal with situations like this."

"I did call security-"

"But you called them too late." Kevin sighed, resting his chin against his hand. "You know I can't just let this slide."

"You're firing me?" This day just got better and better, Maryse thought.

"I couldn't fire my best employee." Despite the fact the office door was closed, Kevin lowered his voice. "Some of the girls aren't too happy about what happened and they think because your my 'favourite' you'll get away with it. I've fired girls in the past because of this and they don't think that'll happen to you. Consider it...extended leave. Just until this whole situation has blown over."

So that was why Maria wasn't her usual self; she was annoyed because she felt Maryse was getting special treatment. "So what happens to my clients? And my pay?"

"Your clients will be sorted out amongst the other girls but unfortunately, this leave will be unpaid."

Maryse may not have liked it but she understood. Kevin Nash was a business man through and through and paying Maryse whilst she wasn't working wasn't business-smart. If anything, paying her whilst she was on leave was a reward.

"I'll be in touch, Maryse." Kevin winked. Of course he would, he was her nine o clock.

It was about eleven when Maryse left Kevin's hotel suite and arrived back at her apartment. On the way home, she begged the cab driver to stop at her local store so she could pick up some essentials. All she wanted to do was spend the evening in her bathtub, listening to Norah Jones and drinking her way through a bottle of rosé and eating the truffles she'd received months ago from her mother for her birthday.

Her job was surprisingly – or unsurprisingly, depending on your view – tiring and most nights, she found herself falling asleep on the cab ride home. Obviously, her exhaustion stemmed from her illness too and in all honesty, she knew she probably shouldn't have been working at all, but being alone in New York without employment wasn't going to provide her with the financial stability she needed.

Placing her key in the lock of the main door, Maryse went inside and took the elevator up to her third floor apartment, her pride and joy. The spacious two bedroom and one bath apartment may have been a present from Mike, but all of the decorating was a product of six years in a game she despised. It was decked out with classy monochrome interior, with sky-high windows and killer views of the West Village. Everytime she arrived home, she did so with a smile.

But as soon as she opened the door, her smile was one of confusion, as Mike was sat on her couch.

"Mike," Maryse masked her surprise with a smile as she approached her boyfriend with a kiss on the lips. "What're you doing here?"

"I was in the area so I thought I'd stop by," He responded casually. "Your doorman let me in."

"Well, do you want something to drink? I was going to open a bottle of rosé but that's probably a little girly for you. Did you want a beer?"

"I'm not thirsty but you can open whatever you want." Mike followed his girlfriend into the kitchen and sat down on one of the barstools. "So how was your day?"

"Not bad." Maryse poured herself a glass and stood across the bar from Mike. "I had a couple of articles to finish up but other than that, it's been very uneventful. What about you?"

"So-so," He shrugged. "Except for one...discovery."

"Oh?"

"Quick question, why did I see you leaving the Gramercy Hotel with a guy on my way here?"

The mood in the room quickly froze over, leaving Maryse unable to do anything except sip from her glass tentatively. He'd seen her with Charles. How was she supposed to explain herself? She had two choices; come clean about everything or lie. Remembering a slightly skewed moral her mother taught her, she decided sometimes it was better to lie if the truth was just going to hurt someone.

"And please," Mike added, "Cut the bullshit. I don't want excuses."

"I didn't want you to find out this way." Maryse began. "I wanted to tell you myself but...well, it's too late now, isn't it? I've been...seeing someone behind your back."

"For how long?"

"A couple of months." The lies flowed seamlessly.

"I just...I don't get it." Mike got to his feet, shaking his head. "What does this guy have that I don't? And I saw him, so please don't tell me it's purely physical."

"You're right, it's not physical. It's about money." Better she came across as a gold digger than a lying prostitute. "Clothes, shoes, bags, jewellery; he buys me stuff-"

"So he has money! I have money! This apartment was a freaking present from me!" He grabbed one of her slender wrists and shook it. "This Rolex you're wearing? That was me. The membership to the Plaza spa? Me. The Chanel bag-no wait, bags? Me, me, me, me and once again, me! I'm giving you everything and more and yet you go running to some other guy for more? What more could you possibly want?"

"Sometimes everything just isn't enough." It was so true. Maryse had all the material she could want but she wasn't happy.

"I have nothing else to give you!"

"It's not about the material possessions-"

"You just said you were sleeping with this guy because he bought you stuff!" Mike shouted, banging his fist down on the marble counter. "You know, before we got together, I couldn't stay faithful to a girl beyond about three dates. I've been with you for months and I've barely looked at another girl. I guess the first cut really is the deepest." Maryse could've sworn she saw his eyes cloud over, as he used the back of his hand to wipe them. "Why'd you have to throw it away? Why don't I make you happy?"

This was utterly heartbreaking for Maryse to watch. "I think you should go."

"No," He shook his head angrily, pushing away any furious tears. Apparently that sadness was anger. "I want to know what I did wrong. And I don't want to go until you tell me."

"This is ridiculous-"

"No, you sleeping with someone else was ridiculous." He corrected, raising his voice. "Is he better than me?"

"Mike-"

"Does he make you claw at the sheets like I do? Does he make you bite your lip so hard it bleeds? Does he make your eyes drift to the back of your head?"

Maryse put her head in her hands as she thought of everytime she ever faked it for Mike. How she gripped at the sheets to stop herself pushing him away, or how she bit her lip to stop herself shouting out Ted's name and how she closed her eyes so she could pretend it were Ted's hands all over her body and not Mike's. Not just Mike, but any man she slept with.

"Please tell me you weren't thinking of him whilst we were having sex."

"I wasn't thinking of him." Maryse answered truthfully.

"You're lying!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I can tell you're lying to me!"

"Stop it!" She shrieked, pushing him off her. "I can't take back what's happened so how're we going to sort this out?" She polished off the remains of her glass, feeling the alcohol flowing through her. "You wanna yell at me until it's out of your system? Yell at me. You wanna go sleep with someone else? Fuck away. You want to hit me?" As soon as those words were out of her mouth, she regretted them but somehow, didn't want to take them back. "Then hit me."

Those last words completely changed the expression of Mike's face.

"You want to hit me." She concluded. "Go on. If it's going to make you feel better, then do it."

Perhaps it was the fact she was finally releasing six years of frustration or just too much alcohol – she'd been drinking with her clients – but Maryse was a woman possessed. Keeping her illness a secret meant she had a lot of bottled up rage and she was at last able to shout it out. It wasn't Mike she was attacking, but anything and anyone that'd ever caused her pain.

"Don't test me, Ryse." Mike warned.

"Go on, I'm begging you." Maryse challenged. "Hit on. Be the bigger man and hit the spoilt little bitch that cheated on you. Hit her because she cared about your wallet more than she cared about you. Hit her because you fell in love for the first time and she never reciprocated those feelings. Hit her because everything you fucked her, she faked-"

That was enough for Mike, as he flew at the blonde, pinning her back against the fridge with one hand and using the other to aim a fist at her pretty face. One fist turned into a flurry until he eventually stepped back to survey the damage. Her nose and lip were busted and bloody and her left eye was swollen up.

Touching her mouth and drawing away a blood-covered finger, she managed to say. "Maybe you should go now."

I know it was really depressing, but I really enjoyed writing that chapter :):)
Hope you enjoyed it too, and please, keep reviewing!
Big love Xx