I have been gone six long months, indulging in my own selfishness. My freedom was in fact my prison, my mind plagued with guilt. Shirking my responsibilities, I embarked on a journey of self-indulgence, self-destruction and self-discovery. I tried to return many times, but my fear and guilt and subornness held me back. I come back now only after pushing aside my pride and knowing I must face what I have done. With my return will be anger and confusion and questions I'm still not sure I can answer.

He will hate me and I will never have the right to ask for his forgiveness. I have to try, though, to make things right. He is a hard man, an angry man, a man who will hold a grudge to his grave. I married him despite this, despite his intensity, despite the age gap and his addiction and his immaturity. I showed the least maturity when I left, when I couldn't get past myself and accept my responsibilities as a wife and mother. I should have gotten help, should have known better, should have stayed. I should have done a lot of things and I will always be haunted by the decisions I made. I destroyed my life in one moment, with one action.

I'm going to have to explain myself, but no excuse is good enough. I'll be seen as a bad person, a selfish bitch, a shitty mother. I'm sure he'll say that and worse. I'm trying to prepare for the hellfire from the only man I've ever loved and still love and will always love. I return now seeking redemption but knowing I will find bitterness and hate and pain. Of the two of us, I never expected me to be the one to walk out.

I remember the last time I saw him. I lay on the couch, the blinding brightness of the sun and the clanking of bottles toppling over. My binge didn't stop once he left, once I realized what I'd been doing that day. I drank everything in sight and cried myself to sleep. My head was pounding and my stomach rolled and I moved to my side and hung my head over the edge of the couch and puked into the bucket I'd strategically placed by my head the night before. I heard his familiar cursing and I looked up at him, my vision blurred. I could see the anger in his face.

He told me to get myself together, that I was pathetic. I knew it, he didn't have to say it. He wanted to hurt me, though, so he bombarded me with insults and a guilt trip. I was a weak person, a drunk, a bad mother. He told me I could either buck up or get the fuck out. I had a week. I didn't even wait that long.

After a day, after nursing my hangover and becoming halfway functional, I packed a bag, got into the car and I left. On the coffee table, I left my keys, my cell phone and a note, simply saying, "I'm sorry."

I come home just in time for Ella's first birthday.

xXxXx

She's been gone for six long months. I don't know if she'll ever come back and part of me is so angry that I don't want her to come back. I have been left with a young child that I'm barely capable of caring for. I work 50 hours a week and so do Wilson and Cuddy. They've split the cost of the nanny with me, but it isn't the same as being raised by an actual parent. I might be an angry, cold bastard, but the last thing I want is for my child to end up like me.

I hate Henri and I love her and the combination kills me. I want nothing more than for things to be the blissful, white picket fence that television promises and real life never actually gives. I love her and miss her and want to hold her. I hate her and I want to take her by the shoulders and shake her, hard, and scream in her face. I'm an angry man who will hold a grudge to my grave. She married me despite this, despite my intensity, despite the age gap and my addiction and my immaturity. She showed the least maturity when she left, though, when she couldn't get past herself and accept her responsibilities as a wife and mother. She should have gotten help, should have known better, should have stayed. She destroyed our lives in one moment, with one action.

I want to think she's a bad person, a selfish bitch, a shitty mother. I'd say that and worse to her if she ever has the guts to come back. Of the two of us, I never expected her to be the one to walk out. In reality, I know she's not a bad person, just too young and too stubborn to ask for help. A child is overwhelming and Ella takes after both of us; she is a difficult child when she wants to be.

I remember the last time I saw her. I walked into the apartment after my night at Cuddy and Wilson's. I found her passed out on the couch, the floor and coffee table littered with bottles, a bucket near her head. I tripped over a bottle and cursed. She stirred, moaning and rolling over to her side before puking into the bucket. I moved around the apartment and packed a bag for Ella and I. Henri was going to be punished for her little binge; she wasn't about to get off with a hangover and a stern talking to. I looked down at her, pissed, and she barely focused on me. I could see the misery in her face.

I told her to get herself together, that she was pathetic. I'm sure she knew it and I'm sure she felt bad. I'm sure I didn't have to say it, but i wanted to hurt her, so I bombarded her with insults and a guilt trip, something I know how to do well. I told her she was a weak person, a drunk, a bad mother. I told her she could either buck up or get the fuck out. I gave her a week, but she didn't even wait that long.

Now, I feel that I should've seen the signs and gotten her help, with or without her consent. I shouldn't have been so hard on her, I shouldn't have given her a time limit. I shouldn't have punished her like I did. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.

I came back to the apartment after a couple days and all I found was her keys, her cell phone and a note, simply saying, "I'm sorry." Some of her clothes were missing and her car was gone. Her family had no idea where she was. I waited days and then weeks and after two months I realized she probably wasn't coming back. My Vicodin use got a little out of hand in those first weeks. Cuddy and Wilson did more than they should have for me. I finally got a grip and got back into my routine. At night, I tried not to think of her, but always did.

Whether she ever comes back or not, she will always be on my mind and in my heart, forever and always.

xXxXx

A/N: Hey all, I'm really sorry about the lack of updates. My muse has seemed to have left me for a while and it's still not back 100%. I've got two papers and a test in the next week, and instead of preparing, I wrote this and am about to go out drinking... ah well. Sorry for the delay and please be patient, as I have no idea when the next installment could come. Thank you for your dedication and your reviews!