This is a work of fiction:

All characters seen in the story are either purely fan-made or from the X man's movies/ Marvel comics. I only own my own OC characters.

Thanks again to my Beta: lizzieBdarcy! You're the best! Check out her stories, they are amazing.

Song: Switching gears – Wulf

So the planning was to update the story in January but because I said yes to a new job in the beginning of 2020, the last few weeks were hectic. Thank god things seem to have quite down, and I hope to post the next few chapters in the following weeks.

So just a little warning!

The next 4/5 chapters are going to be a bit different than what you guys are used too. Are lovers are apart after all, and though I do want them to meet up again there is still a story that needs to be told in between.

Even if it is a bit depressing.


I'll be switching gears
I trust you do the same
Looking for tomorrow
filling up the hollow.


Chapter 35. Switching gears.


November the 20th 1962

The last weeks of November brought with it more rain than she had seen in months. Autumn had finally arrived. The leaves on the trees were changing colors, the days were getting shorter, and even if it was only barely noticeable, there was a chill in the wind that hadn't been there before. Inside the mansion's library, the embers of a dying fire crackled in the fireplace. The sound was enough of a trigger to divert het attention from the pages of the book she was reading to the red glowing logs.

It had almost been four weeks since they had returned. Escaping from the island had been easier than she had expected. Moira had been able to use some of her undercover contacts, and after only a few phone calls on a deserted payphone they had found in the first small village they had crossed, she had arranged transportation back. A small fishing boat, it's owners paid for their silence, had agreed on bringing Hank, Sean, Alex and herself back to America as soon as possible. Charles and Moira had not joined them, the telepath's decision was to stay in Cuba to receive the medical attention he needed.

It had been in a small clinic a few hours before she was supposed to leave the country with the others that she had finally been able to confront the stubborn telepath.

"I can heal you, why the hell are you being so stubborn!"

"We do not have the time. You have to return to America as soon as possible."

"And how long do you think it's going to take? I can transfer your injuries and finish with it in a few minutes."

"Katherine – "

"Why won't you let me help you?"

The defensive shift in his behavior confused her. Charles had always been the first to come her whenever he'd hurt himself. She had used her mutation to heal his bruises, burns, and bumps more times than she had used it on anyone else in the mansion.

"I don't need your help. I'm fine."

His refusal for her assistance made the taste of frustration sharp in her mouth.

"You can't walk, the doctors said you might be paralyzed for the rest of your life!"

"If that is my fate I will accept it."

The conversation had been too strange not to set off warning bells. Ever since she had offered her help on the beach, there had been a fear in his eyes, a concern that made her already wavering mind suspicious.

"What are you hiding from me?"

His brow furrowed, and the pain in his eyes had been unmistakable as her rapid thoughts and frustrations thundered through his head without consent. It had taken him a few deep calming breaths before he had been able to answer her.

"I will tell you everything once I have returned to the mansion. Until then please understand that this is not the time nor the place."

The exhaustion on his face and the pain he tried to keep hidden in the depths of his eyes had made her agree.

Reluctantly.

They had left Cuba that next morning, and within a week, they had reached the safety of the mansion. It had been strange to return to the place that she considered her home with fewer people than when they had left. Everything felt emptier, the mutters of voices in the hallways were faint, quiet, and though she did cook every day to feel something like normalcy, they never ate together in the dining room anymore. The table in the room was too big for just the four of them, and it separated them too far to be comfortable.

Instead, they found refuge in the kitchen. All of them would sit around the kitchen island, eating, talking, and sometimes laughing though it never was as vibrant or as loud as it had been before. The happenings in Cuba had not only affected her, it had affected everyone, it seemed.

From the moment they had arrived, Hank had spent most of his time in the laboratory. The feral had immediately started to try to find a cure for his furry problem, and he only left the room to eat or sleep. Alex and Sean had been a different story. Both of them had started training and working hard on improving themselves ever since they had returned. Over the weeks, she had watched them train, and when she did, she couldn't help but feel that they looked and acted more adult than they had ever done before.

With a loud crackle, the burning logs in the fireplace crumbled. Katie watched as the ember nearly died. With a small sigh, she closed the book she had been reading, dropping it on the small side table besides the couch before slowly getting up. She knelt in front of the fireplace, picked up two split pieces of wood that were lying next to the mantle, and threw them on the fire. The dying embers glowed bright red, the flames growing once again as they reached for the new nutrients she had provided.

Slowly she got up and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared into the dancing flames. Outside the late November, sun was breaking through the clouds. Sunlight pierced through the library window; it rays falling over bookcases beside the mantle place. Her gaze drifted, following the beams of light until her eyes locked on a particular book on one of the shelves. The distance between her and the leather-bound book was gone before she had even realized she had moved. She lifted the book and opened it to the bookmark she had left inside the dictionary after the first time she had used it. Her eyes immediately found the word, and quietly, she stared at it, all the while ignoring the small flutter inside of her chest.

Liebling.

She brushed her fingers over the page in the German dictionary for what felt like the hundredth time since she had returned.

noun [ masculine ] /ˈliːplɪŋ/ -s –e

Translation: Love, Beloved, Darling, Sweetheart.

The sound of his voice, soft and gentle, kept fluttering in the back of her mind. And like a butterfly, it brushed against the walls she had carefully built up again, every now and then with a memory. His words, his touch, his smile, all of it haunted her.

Liebling.

With a heavy sigh, she slapped the book shut and shoved it back onto the shelf. Her fingers, only for a small second, grazed the spine of the book before she let her hand fall back to her side. She was torturing herself with the memory of him, torturing herself with thoughts of things she couldn't have, shouldn't have wanted. He had made his decision on the beach, and the easy way in which he had made the destructive choose had cut her deep.

She hated him for it, almost as much as she still loved him, and her traitorous heart made her feel like an idiot. How could she still love him after what he did? How could she still long for him, besides knowing that his actions and decision had only brought her misery.

Bastard.

A slight breeze came from the open window, it tickled her neck for a moment before it disappeared. She turned towards it, breathing in deeply to take in the clean, fresh air from outside. For a moment, she closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. In the distance, she could hear something rumble. She opened her eyes when she recognized the sound, and her heart lurched when she saw Moira's black SUV through the window. It was driving over the gravel path towards the mansion.

Finally!

Relief spread through her in waves, and she turned away from the window before the car had a chance to stop. She dashed from the library, her boots thumping along the quiet hallway as she ran to the main entrance. She pushed open the double doors, racing down the stairs two steps at the time, not once stopping when her feet connected with the gravel path below. Charles and Moira had gotten out of the car. The CIA agent was kneeling so that she was at the same height as Charles. The telepath was sitting in a wheelchair, looking weakened and pale, and the mere sight of him made her feet quicken on the gravel.

The pair didn't seem to notice her. Charles reached out his hand, placing a finger on Moira's forehead. His lips curved sadly when he whispered something too soft for Katie to hear, but it seemed to reach the CIA agent for her lips turned in an emotional smile similar to the telepaths.

The gravel crunched under her feet one last time when Katie stopped in front of them. "I'm so glad you two are back!"

She did not receive a response, both Charles and Moira stayed quiet, staring at each other until slowly, without saying a word, Moira rose from her knees. She turned away, her eyes distant and cold as she walked over the path back towards her car.

Charles's head dropped to his chest when he heard the gravel crunching underneath the agents high heels, and a shudder wracked through his body when Moira disappeared inside of the SUV and started the engine. Without hesitation she drove away.

For longer than a minute, Katherine stared at the gravel road she had vanished down. There had been a blank look in the agent's eyes, a look that had for a moment made her fear that Charles had done something terrible. When she leveled her eyes back on him, he spoke, and she knew that her fears had been correct.

"There was no other choice. The CIA would have annoyed her for answers, for our location, and I do not want to endanger her any more than I already did. They' re going to look for us, especially after what Erik did."

She felt the burn of tears against her eyelids, felt the twisting ache inside of her chest, but not wanting to cry she forced all of it down with a big swallow. "How much did you erase from her memory?"

"Everything concerning mutants. Concerning us," Charles quickly replied.

His words made her uncomfortable, and she crossed her arms suddenly feeling cold, despite the sweater she slipped on earlier. "She was my friend too."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

The telepath was looking up at her, his face painting a clear picture of the pain and sorrow his own decision had caused him. The sky was darkening above them. The first few droplets fell onto her head in a steady pattern, and she raised her eyes towards the dark clouds that were heavily pregnant with rain.

"We should head inside."

Charles agreed with a nod. Uncertainly his fingers wrapped around the top of his chair's wheels. With a big push, he tried to make it move, but the gravel underneath him made it difficult.

She uncrossed her arms, holding out her hands in a silent reminder. "You could just let me-"

"No-." He replied instantly, his fingers curling tightly enough around the wheel to turn his knuckles white. "I don't want you to heal me. I'm fine."

Liar.

She could hear it in his voice, saw it in the way he held himself. Charles was in pain, and even if he tried to hide it from her, she knew him well enough to see through the guise.

"Please, Katherine-" he continued. "I will give you all the answers you need, but right now, I would like some rest."

Silently she stared at him for a few seconds, breathing in slowly through her nose before she moved closer. She stepped around him, placing her hands on the wheelchairs handles, and with one massive push, she forced it to forward. The rain started to fall heavily around them, the temperature dropping instantly, making her shiver.

The leaves had only just changed color, but inside of her chest it felt as if winter had already arrived.


November the 21 1962

Beneath her feet, the grass was still wet with morning dew. It squelched with each step she took following behind Sean and Alex as they made their way to the tree line. The sun was already above the horizon, and though the warm rays burned brightly, they still hadn't been able to chase away the night cold that still lingered.

She shivered in her thin summer jacket, shoving her hands deep in the pockets to ward off the morning chill. It was not in her routine to join the two younger mutants as they left the mansion to train. However, with Charles remaining in his room ever since he returned and Hank still being busy in the laboratory it felt like the best thing to do to distract her mind, if only for a little while.

"Nearly there!" Sean enthusiastically called back over his shoulders, smiling brightly as he raised his arms. The wings attached to his suit stretched with the movement when he rolled his shoulders.

Alex chuckled next to her, shaking his head in amusement. He twisted his face to look at her, smiling when he caught her gaze. "If I didn't know better, I would swear that he's becoming an adrenaline junkie."

She couldn't help but chuckle in return. Ever since Hank had fixed the redheads suit, jumping off the satellite dish had become a regularity, and though she still worried about him plummeting to his death, it had become easier to trust in Sean's abilities the more she watched him use his mutation. "Well, let's just hope that today we can get him down in time for dinner."

Above the trees, the white satellite grew in size the closer they got until finally, they broke through the tree line when they reached it. Sean had already started climbing up the ladder , eager to jump and use the full potential of his mutation as soon as possible. Alex and Katie stopped their feet once they had reached the ladder, too, both of them staring up at the redhead who was quickly ascending into the air.

"When do you think Charles will come out of his bedroom?" The question was innocent, yet behind it, she could hear the same curiosity that had kept her in its grip ever since the telepath had returned.

She shrugged in response. "I wish I knew Alex. For now, let's give him time, he's lost more than most of us."

Raven, Moira

Erik…..

The telepath had never been an easy man to read, but the pain that had been etched on his face the day before had been too clear to miss. Even though being kept in the dark was slowly making her go crazy, she knew Charles was probably exhausted after everything that had happened.

I will give him one more day.


She hadn't been surprised when Charles didn't join them for dinner. Just like the day he arrived, the telepath had preferred to stay another evening alone in his room. She had dined with the others in the kitchen. Hank had returned to the laboratory the moment he had finished his plate. Alex and Sean had offered to stay behind to help her with the dishes, but she had waved them away, sending them off to the TV room to watch a movie.

She washed the dishes quickly, dried them even quicker before she stored them away in the cabinet beneath the sink. The leftovers were scooped into boxes, and after she had written down what was inside on the lids, they were stacked in the fridge.

"Katherine, if you would be so kind as to come to my office."

The unexpected sound of Charles his voice resonated through her mind the moment she closed the fridge door. Even if the noticeable pressure the telepaths presence always caused left the moment he disappeared from her thoughts, she still cringed in discomfort. She hated it when he invaded her mind like that. For less than a heartbeat, the idea of ignoring him crossed through her mind until the flash of what he had promised replaced it. Her fingers were still tightly wrapped around the freezer's door handle, and with a little shake of her head, she opened it.

She took out the leftovers stew, the food wasn't hot anymore, but it was still warm enough to eat. She made up a plate, filled the kettle, got out a cup, saucer, and left the pot to boil.

It felt wrong to go to him empty-handed.

It was only a few minutes later that Katie left the kitchen. The soft sound of her boots on the varnished wood floor echoed throughout the hallways as she made her way towards Charles his office on the second floor. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her nerves made it hard to keep the tray in her hands steady. But she succeeded. She balanced the tray on one arm and raised her hand to knock on the office door once she had reached it.

"Come in." He called out before her fist had a chance to connect.

Of course, he already knew she was there. She inhaled deeply through her nose to rid herself of the annoying sensation that bubbled in her stomach before she pressed the door handle down. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, closing it with her foot once she had stepped over the threshold. Charles was in the small sitting area in his office. The wheelchair looked weirdly out of place between the vintage furniture. He had been looking down at a book in his lap but his eyes drifted to the tray she was carrying.

"You shouldn't have." He softly told her.

The concern that had become a permanent inhabitant of her heart and mind answered for her. "You haven't eaten since you arrived here yesterday afternoon, you must be starving."

After an odd, tense little moment of hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, thank you. I've been too –" His eyes drifted to his desk in front of the window. "Occupied to even think about eating."

Her lips curved, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Well then its good thing I'm here now, isn't it?"

She closed the distance between them slowly and placed the tray down on the small side table between them before standing straight again. Defensively she crossed her arms over her chest, nervously tapping her fingers on her abs when Charles stayed quiet. It was hard to keep her mouth shut, hard to be silent, but she forced herself to remain patient. She was giving Charles a chance to speak by himself instead of pressuring him for answers.

The telepath lips curved sadly, his brows furrowing in discomfort when he heard her frantic thoughts. "On my desk." He suddenly started, answering her unspoken question. "I wrote everything down, so it would be easier for you to understand."

The reticent way in which he behaved created a sharp twinge of fear that sliced through her abdomen and clogged her throat. She shifted her head to stare at the mahogany desk. A light brown manila folder was lying on top of the polished surface, teasing her with a truth she was suddenly wary off. Slowly, with care, she walked closer, edging around the desk and pulling back the leather chair behind it before she sat down.

For a moment her fingers hesitated and then decided.

She flipped open the manila folder, and immediately she was greeted by a note written in Charles neat handwriting. She picked it up, the X-ray Hank had taken a few weeks prior was lying underneath it, and it stared at her eerily. The sudden need to prepare herself for the information inside the folder made her look up again. Charles had his back to her, his eyes fixated on the tray of food on the side table in front of him.

"Charles?" She began carefully.

His back straightened in the chair when he heard her voice.

"Is there a reason you kept this from me?"

His hands tightened on the handles of the wheelchair, and when he replied his answer was short.

"Yes."

"Was it to protect me?"

There was a small moment, less than a heartbeat that he remained still. But then he answered again. "Yes." For the second time, the answer was short, but it was all that she needed. Whatever information the folder contained, it wasn't good, and she preferred to be prepared for the worst than be taken by surprise.

Setting aside the note, she pulled the folder closer and then without wasting any more time she began to read.

Silence.

It settled inside his office like a thick blanket of smog, making the air heavy around him. Almost an hour had passed since Katie had settled down behind his desk. An hour in which she hadn't spoken a word or had uttered a breath. But still, because of his mutation he had felt and heard every shift of emotion that had gone through her.

He hadn't touched the food she brought, nor did he drink the tea. The water in the kettle and the food on the plate had long since grown cold. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry or thirsty, because he was, but he knew he wouldn't be able to swallow any food or water down even if he wanted to.

Returning to the mansion had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. Everything had changed, and though for most the changes had only been mental, for him, it had been different. They were physical as well. He had known it the moment his legs hadn't responded to his pleas on the beach. One moment, he was in his prime and then there was pain before nothing at all. A nothing and numbness he knew he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

They had confirmed it in the clinic where he had stayed behind. The bullet Erik had deflected had hit his spine, and because of it, his legs were useless. Moira had not understood. She had pleaded with him to let Katherine heal him, pleaded with him to change his mind. But he couldn't, not after what he had seen, not after what he'd learned.

The sound of papers rustling behind him made him perch up slightly in his wheelchair. Katherine pushed back the chair she had been sitting on, and with slow, steady steps, she walked from behind his desk to the sitting area. The painful pressure in his head increased when she sat down in the old fauteuil on the other side of him, the folder tightly clutched between her fingers.

"Ironic isn't it?" Katie began.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her mouth tightening at the ends into a painful, almost mocking, smile. "That the moment I learn to accept my mutation, you give me this." Her fingers dashed over the folder, her unmanicured nails scratching the thick paper.

He followed the movement with his eyes, only darting them up again when she continued. "So everything inside of this." She tapped the folder to emphasize her words. "Is it true?" She looked at him, searching for something that resembled reassurance, but met with the grave expression on his face, she shook her head and looked away.

"I'm sorry." The sound of the words sounded strange to his own ears, but they were the only thing that came to mind.

She scoffed, her eyes returning to him the moment the apology had left him.

"You're sorry? Sorry for what?" There was a hint of harshness he'd never heard before, and it left him with a loss for words. She continued for him. "Sorry that you lied to me? Kept things from me? Or are you sorry because it turns out that what I thought my mutation was for turns out to be a fucking lie!"

The cold tone made a chill ran down his spine, the words landing squarely in his gut. "Katherine please!" He held out his hand to defuse her, but she ignored him. She got up from the chair, throwing the manila folder down on the table between them.

"So now what?" Bitterly, she spat out the words. "I can't use it anymore? Because every time I use it, I endanger myself?

"Katherine, please" Again, he tried to get through to her, but she waved his words away and started pacing, wringing her hands to dispel the nervous energy she felt.

"You shouldn't have kept this from me." She snarled.

"I know." He was tired. So very tired.

"It is not your job to protect me."

"I know." It was all he could manage.

Her feet stopped, she brushed back her hair and clasped her head with both hands. "So, now what?" She asked again after a minute had passed.

Charles sat back in his wheelchair. "I don't know." he truthfully replied.

She remained silent, pulling in a calming breath before she lowered her hands to rest by her side. "Neither do I," She admitted. Her eyes darted back to the manila folder on the side table, and when she moved closer, it almost sounded as if she had to drag her feet to cross the short distance. She leaned down to pick it up, and silently, she stared at it. "I need to process this."

He understood, of course. Even with all of the preparation,, the information he had provided had shocked her to the core. "I understand, but Katie, please. If there is anything I can do, do not hesitate to come to find me."

She left without another word between them, leaving the telepath behind in the silence that pressed down on his shoulders like a heavy burden. He steered the wheelchair away from the sitting area, his eyes going to his desk as he slowly made his way over. His head was starting to hurt, and he found himself unable to shut off the constant stream of thoughts that continued to evade his already weakened mind.

He still had a bottle of whiskey stored in one of the drawers, and if there was one thing he longed for more than anything at the moment, it was a drink.


November the 22 1962

Morning had come quickly.

The sun slowly rose over the horizon; its light brightening the sky as the scent of grass from the softly dewed ground drifted through the open kitchen window. The world outside the mansion was silent, many of the migrating birds had already gone north, and when they had left, they had taken their morning songs with them. The first few days waking up without the sound of chirping outside of her window had left Katie with an uneasy feeling. But now, after spending the entire night up unable to find rest the silence was strangely calming. She had fled her bedroom when it had felt like the walls had closed in on her, and not knowing of any other place to calm her down, she had taken refuge in the kitchen.

That had been hours ago.

Lost in thought she stared out the open window, the leaves on the trees had turned into shades of red, yellow, and brown. It colored the landscape around the mansion in a warm palette and filled the air with the recognizable scent of autumn. The heat that came from the oven behind her filled the kitchen, it's warmth penetrating through her clothes. Baking and cooking had kept her mind occupied throughout the night and early morning. It had helped her in calming her frantic thoughts ever since the revelations Charles had bestowed on her.

Calmly her hands wrapped around the porcelain teacup in her hands. She pulled her gaze away from the window to stare in the lukewarm water. Behind her, she could hear the pipes in the wall as they juddered and clanged. The mansion was waking up, and soon she would be joined by the others. The sweet scent of freshly baked bread and cinnamon was hard to miss. All they had to do was follow their noses towards the kitchen as soon they stepped over the thresholds of their rooms.

The sound of something heavy rolling through the hallway outside came closer. She perched in her seat, her eyes snapping away from her cup of tea to the open door at the same time that Charles wheeled in. He looked even worse than he had done the day before. Purple- black circles sat underneath his eyes, his skin sallow. The clothes he wore were the same as he had worn when they had last talked. They were wrinkled, as though he slept in them. On his lap was the now empty tray of dinner she had delivered.

Their eyes met over the short distance between them and unable to stay quiet; she was the first to talk. "You look terrible."

"I wasn't able to sleep much last night."

"It looks like you haven't slept at all Charles, did you even leave your office?"

The wheelchair rolled over the kitchen floor; it stopped a bit awkwardly when he had reached the island, the metal footrests hitting the wooden cabinet underneath the marble tabletop loudly. Frustrated, he cursed underneath his breath, rolling the wheelchair back a little bit to create distance first before he answered. "I couldn't sleep " He pulled the brake lever into its safety position, locking the wheels. "Have you?" he asked while taking the tray from his lap, placing it down on the marble counter.

She shook her head slowly. "No, not really." She slipped off her barstool and picked up the still-hot tea kettle from the stove, filling an empty mug she had taken out from the cabinet. "Just like you I couldn't sleep either."

He sighed gratefully as he watched her prepare him a fresh cup of tea. She placed it in front of him before she sat back on the barstool, wrapping her own hands on the now cold teacup in front of her.

He followed her example, picking up his cup and bringing it closer to his nose to breathe in the calming scent of the tea leaves. "You look a lot calmer than you did last night." He slowly observed after a short moment of silence. "Are you alright, Katie?"

She stared down at her cup as the question echoed throughout the room, her nails scratching the smooth porcelain beneath her fingers in calming circles. "Yes, strangely enough I am." Her lips curved slightly upward, her dark brown eyes filling with a conviction Charles had never seen before.

"You're at peace with Hank's findings?"

"No." She answered immediately, bringing the cup to her lips to finish the now cold drink. "But this morning, I decided that it doesn't matter at all."

One eyebrow rose on the telepaths tired face. "It doesn't matter?" He questioned, confused.

"No, it doesn't." She slipped off the barstool, turning her back to him, she took the still warm kettle off the stove and refilled her cup.

"I'm sorry, Katie, but I don't understand."

She turned around, leaning her body back against the sink she looked at him. "It is mine, isn't it, this mutation."

He nodded carefully, still unsure what she had in mind.

"So, then it's my decision how I use it and what to use it for."

When the meaning of her words became clear to him, his face grew dark. "Katie, it's not that simple."

"Why not?" She shrugged. "If I want to use my mutation the same way as I've been using it for years, I'm allowed to."

Charles brows furrowed, he placed his cup down on the kitchen island." You read the papers I wrote for you; it's far more complicated than that. There are consequences attached to the way you use your mutation. Or did you forget you almost killed Erik?"

She breathed in deeply, her eyes becoming harder at the memory of that day. "That only happened once."

"And it will happen again if you continue to use your mutation like you are now. The more you decrease the energy inside of you, the more likely the possibility that it will take control to refill itself."

"Then teach me, train me. Help me to control it."

If she could learn how to control the darkness that had taken over her, she could use it for her benefit. She knew she needed help. She needed Charles's mind, his intelligence, and even though the telepath wasn't a hundred percent himself at this moment, she had hoped that he would agree with her request. The vehemently way in which he was shaking his head told her it would not be that easy. "No, I'm not going to train you."

She pushed herself away from the sink, the cup in her hands placed next to her on a kitchen cabinet. "Why not?"

"Because for you to learn how to control it, I will need to push you to the edge. And once you're there, I have to kick you down." He pulled on the break of his wheelchair, and wheeled himself a few centimeters back. "I can't do that."

"Yes, you can, Charles!" She placed her hands on the kitchen island. "I'm positive I can cont-"

He silenced her harshly. "And what if you fail!?"

Her hands fisted on the table, the coldness of the marble creeping inside of her skin when Charles continued.

"You will risk the lives of everyone nearby you when you fail to control it. Do you want to carry that burden?" He asked coldly. Without hesitation he turned the wheelchair around, moving back to the door from which he came. "Because I don't." He was gone before she even knew it, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

For a long time, she stared at the doorway that he had disappeared through. The truth of his words weighed on her, but it was the non belief in her abilities that left a hole inside of her chest big enough to fill with bitter frustration.


Let me know your thoughts, drop me a review!

Much love from Mira