Moving in with Victor after my father ran happened gradually, so much so that I hardly noticed until I had nowhere else to go, but to his place. It was good- for a while. Then I started to feel the shadows closing in again. The sadness that crept up inside me made it difficult to get out of bed. It made it impossible to feel anything else. After a couple days that were blue-er than usual, I think Victor was at a loss about what to do with me.
I heard the door open and felt him sit next to where I laid on the bed. He put an arm on the other side of my body and leaned over me. "Carla?" he said gently.
I didn't respond.
"I know you're awake," he sighed. "Get up."
"I can't." I shook my head.
"You can. You're choosing not to," he said.
"I can't," I repeated, but I rolled over so that I could look at him. "You made me a promise, Victor. What happened to our deal?"
"I know. I will keep it," he told me.
I didn't believe him. "When? I don't want to be here." I had been trying with what was left of my willpower to not cry in front of him, but the tears pooled up and began spilling down my face.
"Do you not love me anymore?" He asked as he wiped away my tears.
"Of course I love you! And I know you love me. That's why you're being so goddamn selfish." I rolled back over and grabbed a pillow, holding it on either side of my head so that he couldn't take it and continue the conversation. What had started as silent tears now turned into full-fledged crying complete with sobs that racked my body.
He moved his hand to my back which he rubbed gently. It gave me comfort, but not enough to calm me.
"Maybe I am," Victor said quietly. I don't think I was supposed to hear him, but I did in between my wailing. He squeezed my hip and left me to my sorrow.