so we're getting in the thick of it. just a couple more chapters before my fav one. I have been working on that one for the longest time now and I'm so terribly nervous about sharing it, but I guess time will come. Let me know what you all think!
It wasn't all that late when Derek made it home. He had just got off his shift and headed home immediately to hopefully catch some sleep before he had to head back in tonight. Amelia had taken all his nights for the last few days and, while he was infinitely grateful, she couldn't do that forever, more than that, he wouldn't let her. As he would all those times he'd get to come home to an empty house, Derek let the calm and quiet soak in, the noise of the wind blowing through the trees and the occasional bird and all the other relaxing nature sounds the house position offered. It was too cold to sit outside anymore, not without extra covers and he wasn't in the mood for that, rather he found sitting on the couch, staring out one of the giant windows, realistic enough. It was in these moments that he truly felt able to empty his mind and let it all out, mentally and emotionally, without the need to hide or put on a mask, the soothing effect of the woods adding to it.
He was in the midst of his sort-of meditation session, when the door opened wide, hitting the wall behind it in the process, dragging him away from his reverie. A little taken aback, but sluggish in his movements and reactions, Derek turned to the source of the offending noise, eyes going wide in surprise. The door was completely open, letting in the freezing air from outside, but there was no one there. Actually, there was a box – no, two boxes sitting right there on the threshold. As confusion began to spread all over his body, he sat up, seriously considering the option that this was just a weird dream. And it wasn't. Not even two minutes later Amelia, not Amelia really, something that looked like boxes with legs, appeared in the doorway and kicked the boxes on the floor inside the house, shutting the door as soon as she could.
There was a moment of pause. The hay rolling across the street, crickets filling in the silence kind of moment. Amelia stared at Derek, her eyes a kaleidoscope of ever changing feelings and emotions, definitely topped by disappointment, and Derek stared back, letting the realization that Amelia was actually moving back in sink in deep.
"Amy." He called. Smiling softly, unable to keep the still overwhelming guilt from showing whenever he merely looked at her.
Amelia just smiled back, awkwardly, tiredly, sadly and then proceeded to carry two of the boxes to her room, dropping them at the foot of the bed, letting herself breathe for a bit, without facing Derek. Unfortunately, her alone time was cut short, when her brother appeared just behind her carrying the remaining boxes, putting them down next to the other ones gently, much like Owen had. Amelia sat on her bed, crossing her legs under her, averting his big brother searching eyes. He wasn't staring, not like that, he was looking at her one second and away the next, she could see him switch his weight between his feet, fidgeting, nervously trying to decide whether he should leave or stay.
"I'm glad you're moving back in." he finally said, taking a couple of step in the direction of her bedroom door.
Amelia looked up, eyes devoid of any particular emotion, lips twitching. "Yeah, but, uh… I think I'm going to stay at the hospital. Just for a couple more days."
Derek nodded. The disappointment was fairly evident on his face, his eyes falling down to the floor in shame. "Okay. It's fine. Just happy to have you back."
He smiled at her and she knew the second he saw it. Amelia didn't remember much about her dad and in time the little things she had managed to remember were slowly fading away like an old photograph, with dog ears and scratches and an orangey look all over. That, though, was burnt in her mind and it felt like yesterday the last time she'd seen it. Derek's smile, this smile, it was her dad's smile. It was identical and it felt identical. "Do you remember Michelle?"
Amelia's words had come the second before his feet would have carried him out the door. He frowned, trying to place Michelle, but he couldn't even think of anyone he knew with that name, much less someone ties somehow to Amelia. Derek frowned, letting a puzzled look wipe the smile from his face, narrowing his eyes, as if it would help in placing this woman. "From college. She came home with me one year. You and Addie were there." Amelia continued.
"Of course. I remember now. What about her?" he looked up with a softer look.
"When I was in LA I convinced her to take the test - uh, her mother died of Huntington's disease and I convinced her to take the test to see if she had the gene." Amelia was looking down at her hands in her lap, not daring to meet her brother's eyes, not when she had to keep strong for a little more still. "Turns out she had it. I lied to her, I tried to make it better, I was scared she would kill herself if she found out she was sick, so I lied."
Derek shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Amy. Does she know now?"
Amelia looked up at him in confusion. Derek thought it was something recent, without much details in the context department, it was an easy assumption to make, and one that would easily explain why she'd been so edgy lately. Instead, of offering an answer, Amelia went on. "I told her. I had to promise to kill her myself when the symptoms would start."
He looked at his little sister, Derek didn't have the first clue what this was all about, but this was far more than he'd expected when she started talking. "The next time we saw each other, about two years ago, it was time."
When the point of all of this was finally within reach – or what he thought the point was, anyway – Derek sat down heavily next to her. "God, Amy, tell me you didn't-"
"I did it." She cut him off. She wasn't telling him all of this because she needed to be lectured, Sheldon had done it enough at that time. "She got scared, though. She ended up in the hospital, where they saved her." Amelia shook her head, it sounded so simple when she put it like this, stripped down to words and ready made phrases that did no justice to the way she'd felt. "I had been drinking for a while then. Not just drinking, like, serious drinking. I knew it was dangerous, I knew it wasn't pills, but it was… it was how it made me feel that was dangerous."
Amelia made the mistake to look up at Derek, who'd looked away, his head wasn't hung in shame like before, he was looking away in disappointment – disappointment in her. She knew the look all too well, the tightly clenched jaw and balled fists instead of hands, the tell tale signs of helplessness. "When I went to pick her up I told her. I think I was kind of scared, but I didn't tell Addie or anyone there, I didn't want them to know. I promised to help and she promised to help me too and… god, Derek, I felt so relieved."
Derek had grown up with four sisters and he was used to them word vomiting their life to him in various occasions, but Amy had never been like the rest of them. She was a little more reserved and interiorized a lot more, something that scared both him and their mother plenty when she lost track as a teenager. He knew what happened two years ago. He knew she'd relapsed and therefore, he knew the bomb had yet to be dropped. His medical training and passion for the brain and nervous system were yelling at him to stop, because every single time her addiction came up, he held it against her. While he never told her that, he wasn't as good at masking his body language well enough that she had no idea. Derek knew it wasn't her fault, knew it was completely out of her control, but like everything regarding the mind he had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that it was a disease just like any other. He'd never fault one of his patients for having a brain tumor, yet he wasn't able to do the same – not entirely – with Amelia. Part of him, also, just couldn't accept that little Amy was sick, the kind of sick not even the best doctor in the world would be able to cure.
His hand found her knee, squeezing het tiny leg with his hand, hoping to offer some support. "I found her dead. That night, I found her in her bed, dead. She was prescribed oxy for the pain and she took half the bottle." Her voice cracked a little and Amelia herself wasn't sure if it was because she was in a way still grieving the loss of her friend, or because she knew what kind of an impact that had on her life. "There were pills everywhere and… and I just took some."
"Is that what caused you to relapse?" asked Derek gently, knowing it was a minefield, the chances of setting her off, or saying the wrong thing were just as high as saying the right one.
Amelia shrug her shoulders. "I don't know." She said in a small voice. It was the same little voice, the one he heard over the phone when he called from college. "It just happened. One day I was okay and the next I wasn't. I felt alone. I really didn't know who to turn to. And then I met Ryan."
This was another name that rang no bells for Derek. While he vaguely remembered Michelle, he had no memory of Amelia ever even mentioning someone by that name. Not as if he would know because at that time he hadn't really made a point to keep in touch with Amy. He and Meredith had just lost Zola and his focus was elsewhere.
"Ryan was-"
It clicked. It was sudden and a little unexpected, but Derek figured it out in the end. "He was you boyfriend?"
Amelia nodded sadly. "Yeah. He was… supportive and kind and he cared. At first it wasn't much, he had pills and that's what I wanted, but I guess he was the first person in my life to accept me for who I was, just like that. He knew how it felt and it made me feel…"
"Loved?" Derek tried. Amelia was staring out the window, but he'd caught the look in her eyes, it was always the same look, though not one he'd seen on her face all that many times.
"Something like that. I was high all the time. I'm not even sure what I remembered, but it felt so… so real." She could feel her entire body ache, her chest felt heavy and her lower lip trembled as she spoke, but tears were nowhere to be seen. "He asked me to marry him. He felt the same and… you would have hated him. I remember thinking about how you would take it." Amelia smiled, letting herself relive the moment for however long she could. "He was serious about it, though. He said he wanted kids and he insisted we should get sober and start putting our lives together."
Derek's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn't know much about Amelia's relapse as Addison hadn't been sure herself what to tell him, he'd heard of some dead beat boyfriend hanging around, but from Amy's words it sounded a lot different. And she was right, he would have hated him. "He doesn't sound all that bad." He offered with a smile, he had to have been really serious about her, if he decided to get clean. It was another little annoying tidbit about addiction he'd picked up, especially during his psych rotation, for an addict to come to the point of wanting to get sober, there as to be a truck load of will power involved and that Derek had always found quite admirable.
"He wasn't. I was bad." Amelia turned, looking straight into Derek's eyes for the first time since she'd started talking. They were identical, it was a little scary to look into them. Somehow she had no problem when she looked at Bailey, but Derek was different. As if sensing her fear, Derek reached over her lap, taking her tightly clasped hands in his, holding onto them. "It was supposed to be one last high and then rehab. Instead," she laughed drily. "He overdosed. I woke up and he was dead. I got to go to rehab and he ended up six feet under."
It was a little overwhelming to let this all out. She talked about this briefly at meetings, not really offering much detail to the room full of strangers she was talking to. Amelia had never talked about this to anyone, ever. Everyone in LA knew about it and she'd avoided dragging all that baggage up here, but it seemed it might have unintentionally got lost in the few things she actually moved with her. Ryan would always be a huge part of her life, no matter how very few people knew about him. Ryan would always be her son's father and nothing could ever change that. In a way, Amelia was grateful for that.
Still feeling the shock of her confession sink in, Derek brought his other hand up to Amelia's back, wanting to comfort her, wanting to feel better for all of this. The second they touched, though, she flinched and he took his hand away. "Sorry," she whispered. "Can you not touch me?"
The hand holding was fine, but nothing more than that. Derek knew why. Amy was afraid to falling apart, touch, comfort, love, it would make all the pieces she was putting together fall apart and she didn't want to have to put them back together. He sighed, respecting her wishes. She deserved none of this. Nobody deserved none of this, but least of all his baby sister, the one that had to witness their dad being shot when she was just a little kid. All in all, despite sharing that same experience, he'd recovered and built a life, but she hadn't been able to. Amelia had become the teenager who overdosed after crashing his car, she was the black sheep and despite all the work she put in building her life too, she couldn't seem to catch a break. "I'm so, so sorry Amy."
"I just…" she sniffled. "I'm still getting past it, I'm still working on it and I thought moving up here would help."
Derek frowned, suddenly feeling like he was missing something. "It's not? I mean, apart from your jackass brother, how is everything not working?"
Amelia shrugged, but the look in her eyes told him he should know why – he didn't, but she thought he would. "I live here, with you and Meredith, which is fine, apart from the fact that I should have my own place. I don't have any friends, just coworkers I see every single day and I have a job that every single person in there believes should be yours."
"I like that you have my job and I know you're fully capable and maybe even less of an arrogant ass as I am." Derek chuckled, getting a smile from her. "And you can stay here for as long as you want. We love having you here. Honestly, I think Meredith loves you more than she loves me."
Her eyebrow arched at the mention of Meredith. "She, uh, actually suggested I talk to you about all of this. Said it would help you get the bigger picture." Only it wasn't the bigger picture, it was a bigger picture, one that didn't include having her dead boyfriend's terminally ill baby. Amelia figured it was enough for today and, frankly, she'd rather keep that story for herself, no matter how much Meredith pushed.
He just nodded, reminding himself not to touch her, not to be too close because she didn't want that, she couldn't handle that. Knowing the extent of what she had to overcome on top of the addiction made his swell in pride for her. When the news had come that she'd ended up in rehab again, he'd been less than thrilled, but kept himself out of that. This put into context a lot of what happened since she moved, it actually shaped her up better. Ever since she'd show up out of the blue a few months ago she'd looked different, more mature, more put together, more confident in herself both professionally and personally, and overall she looked more like a grown up and less like Hurricane Amelia. Losing her friend and losing a man she loved and going threw detox must have been incredibly hard and it was testament to her strength and perseverance if she was here today, the way she was here today.
They sat comfortably in silence for a while, it was nice. Derek still hadn't process entirely her words, but the worry that was slowly leaving him was replace by care and love and pride and the desperate need to hug her tight. Amelia was still sitting there, still cradling all their hands in her lap, still silent. Not that she would ever tell her, but she actually felt better after telling him. It really actually did help, not just the fact that Derek may now cut her a little slack and hopefully treat her more like an adult than he did, but also it was one less secret between them. "Amy I… I'm here. You know that, right?"
Amelia suddenly looked up at him, something in his voice drawing her to him. "I do."
Derek smiled, squeezing her hands, her eyes looked a little brighter and he felt better too about their fight. What didn't sit right with him right now was his conversation with Owen and how that had ended. "Hey Amy have you talked to Owen recently?"
"Yes," she frowned, confused at the sudden change in topic. "I talked to him just before I left to come here, actually."
"Has he told you something?"
The frown deepened on her face. "Something like what? I mean, I did the talking really. What should he have told me?"
Derek felt like punching Owen in the gut. He'd made the effort, he really had, Derek put himself in his shoes, but he still couldn't get it. It wasn't just about leaving, because he'd just done that – and that had ended badly as well – but also, he had to fight so hard last time to keep it all from falling apart, that he didn't thing it was even to be considered going back, not when he possibly had other options. "Guess not, then."
Brows furrowing, Amelia shrugged.
Suddenly feeling like he'd overstayed his welcome, Derek patted his legs, standing awkwardly by her bed. It wasn't like him, but he was nervous and happy and the mix made him twitchy and smiley all at the same time and, from the look on his sister's face, he could tell she was immensely confused by it. "I'm going to go get some sleep." Amelia nodded. "I'm really proud of you, you know?"
Amelia smiled, taking in the words she had so rarely heard from her brother – from anyone, really – relishing in the light, happy feeling that came along. Somehow the effect felt dampened by an overlaying shadow of exhaustion, emotional and physical, that she couldn't seem to escape lately. He smiled back and then, much to her surprise, he leaned down placing a soft kiss on her forehead before walking out.
Making the effort to turn her life into what was by standard normal felt weird. Amelia wasn't used to normal, she had no white picket fence dream, none of the ambitions and aspirations she was raised to believe she'd have. She cut into people's brains and she was damn good at it, she had no home and never really had one all for herself – save for a couple months in LA – despite her need and desire to find someone to spend her life with, the ghosts of her past made the idea always less and less appealing the closer she got to have that. Her conversation earlier with Owen had lit a spark of hope, making her genuinely believe that maybe, just maybe, she might have a chance. The demons that brought them together were the same ones that had driven them apart only a little bit later. There had to be a way around that, Amelia was convinced of that.
All the same Owen had voiced his need for a change as well. Amelia wanted to get her life together and work to what it was she thought they both wanted, but what she had missed – what Owen had missed as well – was that their need for a change went in two opposite directions. In fact, Owen had taken her revelation as the final push to call Teddy and book a flight. All that Owen had heard was rejection and, deep down, he'd felt in his gut dread. Amelia had run up to Seattle running from an engagement and – while he didn't know the details – he was more than familiar with the Shepherd way of dealing, involving running to the woods, drinking beer and growing a beard. Maybe Amelia wouldn't grow a beard and he seriously hoped she wouldn't take up drinking, but the running and hiding was definitely accurate. He was sitting at the desk, staring at the OR board, noticing with a grimace that she was operating until very late tonight as well. She was overworking and not getting enough sleep. A part of him wished he could do something to help, but she'd been clear enough. She wanted her life to change and he obviously wasn't contemplated into the new version.
"You waiting for it to update itself?" asked an amused voice from behind him.
Owen turned around, head whipping in the direction of the voice, brows raised. "Uh?"
Callie smiled, tilting her head as she took in Owen's rugged appearance. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah." He said immediately, a dead giveaway that he was anything but, although the dark circles and deepening creases on his forehead were clear enough sign, without needing him to confirm it. "Sure."
She pursed her lips, leaning against the desk with a knowing look. "You don't look it."
"Sorry," Owen shrugged, averting her prying eyes. "Can't do much about that."
A bit miffed at his curt and plain tone, Callie frowned, deciding in an instant if she would be offended or if he was just pushing her away and she was supposed to push back. Owen Hunt wasn't surely the most level headed guy she knew, but he was usually polite and professional – at work at least. This was out of character for him and Callie found she did mind his harsh response after all. "You could rest. You could delegate. Also, you could talk to someone, you know, we all have bad days or months or whatever – don't take your anger and frustrations out on other people, because, trust me, that never ends well."
Hanging his head, Owen sighed. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
"Well, come one, then." She said nodding her head and motioning for him to follow her with a wave of her hand. "Let's go sit down somewhere." When she noticed him hesitating, eyeing the OR board, before her, Callie shook her head. "Oh, no. That's still going to be there in twenty minutes, come with me."
They sat in the attendings' lounge, enjoying a few seconds of peace and quiet away from the maddening chaos of the hospital. Owen was sitting rigidly, hands balled into fists and jaw clenching periodically. It certainly didn't take a doctor to see that all his muscles were tight and that was saying something about whatever was going on inside his head.
"Is this about Iraq?" asked Callie softly, when she couldn't take anymore of the torturous waiting.
Owen turned to her sharply, a little surprised and feeling a pang of guilt curse through him suddenly and painfully. He wasn't even sure why, but it did nothing if not worsen his current mood. "No." he breathed out. "I… yes, it is. I don't even know why I'm feeling like this."
Frowning at him, but offering a calming smile, Callie pressed a little. "What do you mean?"
"It feels like the more I invest, the more I work for something, the more I actually try, the more I just… mess it up." Owen breathed out, chuckling sadly when he recognized this process all too well. "I did it with Cristina. I pushed in the wrong direction and we ended up a continent apart."
Callie arched one of her perfect eyebrows. "So, this is about your mystery woman, not really Iraq."
Owen shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. Actually, he would have loved to bounce ideas off Callie, to have her honest opinion and her personal estimate of how big a mess he was making of his life at the moment. Problem was, he couldn't explain the Amelia situation when he barely understood it himself. "Not entirely. It's more of a general feeling about my life as it is."
Ignoring his slightly self pitying tone, Callie opted for a slight change of subject. "You made a decision? About Iraq?" and when Owen nodded blankly, she knew she didn't have to ask what it was he'd decided. "Oh."
"If you want to lecture me, please refrain. I had enough of that already." He muttered defensively.
Callie looked down, she had intended to do just that. Not lecture per se, more like make a list, a really long list, of reasons she thought he was making a mistake. Obviously he hadn't take the decision lightly and he had apparently already got an earful – probably the same she was about to give him – on why he should stay. "Nope. I was going to tell you a story. One you probably already know, but bear with me, will you?"
Owen nodded numbly, feeling like he knew what the story was, in a nutshell. "It involves a blonde peds surgeon running and hiding in Africa. The circumstances were different, but I'm sure you remember what happened then. She has a habit of running when things get hard. When it gets difficult and requires a certain degree of vulnerability she runs. She ran to Malawi."
"Callie, that was completely different." Owen sighed, not really interested in hearing the undoubtedly annoying morale of this story. "I'm not running."
With just a look she effectively communicated just what she thought of that statement. "Owen, I'm not trying to talk you into one thing or the other. Really, I'm honestly trying to be supportive of whatever it is you want, but I'm not all that sure you do know what it is that you want. Specifically."
"What is it?"
"If you let me finish the story," Callie scolded gently. "you might get my point." Owen nodded doing his best at hiding just how much he didn't want to listen. "What I was saying is that all that time spent running is wasted time. I had a hard time dealing with Arizona coming back, it really wasn't all rainbows and unicorns."
Owen shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Callie I don't really have anything to… to come back to. That's the point. I really have nothing holding me back."
"Doesn't sound like that when you talk." Callie reasoned, not letting him win. "Owen. Sound like you're running from something – someone, actually."
He took a deep breath, looking away, feeling another jolt of guilt ignite him. She had been clear enough and that meant he should stop feeling like that. Years and years and he still insisted on being in full control of his feelings. "What if I'm running from myself?"
Catching the feeble attempt at escaping the question, Callie shook her head sympathetically. "When you figure out how to do that, give me a call. Now that you mention it, though, have you thought about when you'll be back? I don't mean to bring you down, but I was there. I saw it. You weren't okay, I don't really want to see you like that again."
Sighing, not wanting to go off on Callie for being his friend, Owen took a moment to calm himself down. "I had a run in with Shepherd already and he expressed not so subtly his opinion on this already. I appreciate that he would even worry, but it's not his concern, none of this is."
"Are you sure his wasn't a big brother concern?" Callie smirked until she realized what had just slipped out. While her eyes grew wide, Owen seemed not to have noticed.
"In part, but it still isn't his place to worry about that anyway. Wait… how do you…" Owen trailed off, glad for the chance to divert and maybe finally get the insight he really craved and not a lecture. Feeling his resolve crumble, Owen shook his head, his eyes falling down to his upturned palms in his lap. "Doesn't matter."
Callie smiled and nudged him, trying to get his attention. "Of course it does."
"No." Owen insisted. "It doesn't. She wants a change."
A frown was once again creasing Callie's face. Owen's unusually contorted thinking was beginning to be a little too hard to follow. "She said what? Exactly, her words, I mean."
"She's tired of her life as it is, wants it to change. Can't blame her, really." Muttered Owen, never looking up. "She's right."
Callie stared at him. "What do you think she means with that, though?"
Owen looked up at Callie, feeling like she was being a little dense on purpose, he recognized the woman way of dragging information out of him and he realized he really had no patience for it. "Isn't it obvious?"
Sensing the underlining irritation, she backed down a little, prepared to attack the problem from another angle. "What do you want it to mean? And yes – it does matter." She interrupted him before he could try to stop her again.
"I don't even know." Owen breathed out, feeling defeated at the amount of truth in those few words. "The only thing keeping me from signing up was to… Callie, it's not about Amelia or not Amelia, but I thought we – I thought we had a chance to build something and I pushed her and she ran. She wants a change, she doesn't want me. I want a change too."
Callie nodded sadly, the situation sounded a lot more complicated than what Meredith had painted it out to be. There were two lonely people hurting and for once she was a little at loss at what to do. "What does she think about you going to Iraq?" she asked, but when she noticed Owen's jaw clenching again and his eyes darting the opposite direction of her, Callie groaned. "Owen. Why didn't you tell her?"
He just shook his head, shrugging, avoiding saying I don't know, all over again, admitting that he was losing grip on his life entirely.
"Can I outline what's going on for you?" Owen turned to her, wanting to say no, but she never let him answer. "You two were together and you had expectations and instead of talking about it, you assumed she wanted the same and, when she felt pressured, you let her run. Now, you're running. The thing is, you're not giving her a chance to chase after you like this. It's not fair."
"I told you, she doesn't want that." Owen repeated with less and less emotion, as if it wouldn't hurt as much if he didn't really care.
Callie shook her head vehemently at him. "No, she said she wants a change! Unless you neglected to tell me, Amelia never said she doesn't want you."
Owen sighed. "As I said, it doesn't matter. I'm leaving in four days, it wouldn't change a thing if I told her now."
"It would." As Owen scoffed at her gentle remark, Callie insisted with more vigor. "Look, I won't even pretend to know everything that happened, but if she walks in one day and someone tells her you've left for Iraq, how do you think she'll feel? How do you think she'll feel when you come back? Let me enlighten you, because I've been there, she's going to be hurt. She'll be hurt that you didn't tell her, not that you've gone necessarily, but you didn't tell her. If you care about her, tell her."
Biting the inside of his cheek Owen looked down again. "I don't want to hurt her."
"Yeah, well, there really is no way out of that now. Go for minimal damage."
Owen then nodded. He wasn't at all convinced Callie was right, when he heard the words, she made a lot of sense, but he knew he'd never be able to go up to Amelia and tell her he was leaving and possibly never coming back. She was going to be devastated. If he left without telling her, she'd hate him, but at least it wouldn't hurt as much having him tell her face to face. Owen was well aware everyone was giving him their piece of mind and lecturing him because they cared and – on a hunch – even Cristina would tell him he was being an idiot for going down there again. Amelia never knew that Owen, the Owen who suffered from flashbacks and nightmares, the Owen who was riddled with PTSD, the Owen shadowed by the disorder. He didn't want her to. There was also a small voice, screeching from the back of his head, taunting him, repeating over and over that Amelia wouldn't care that he'd be gone, she'd be okay with it. That would hurt and Owen was in no shape to be hurt like that, subconsciously he was choosing to hurt her instead.
