It was not so much the act as the keeping it from him that left him cold. Empty. Until all that was left was to fill the screaming void with boiling, burning rage.
It was an evil thing. An ugly thing, A sinful thing.
And he hated her for it.
She had stolen a child. Secreted her away… Hid her from him.
"Alright, Bill… I don't know what you want me to do here."
Stop it.
Stop this great, looming tragedy he could feel swelling in this chasm of space between them. Roaring up beneath their feet. Trembling in its wake.
He could have asked it of Laura, but it was becoming harder and harder to find that woman he'd known behind the mask of the President.
He had thought that she would peek out from time to time, even if it were just in the coy quirk of her lip… the mindless fidget of her hands. But, when the lilting call of his name lifted his gaze… she never quite looked how he remembered.
She was hidden from him.
All bloody knuckles and broken glass.
She tapped an impatient rhythm against his doorframe.
"Should I leave?"
But the feather soft of her fingertips betrayed her bloodstained teeth.
Each measured beat thrumming remembered heat against his skin, whisper soft as they searched slow in the dark… A vision too removed to mention.
This gentle person whose trials had forged too hard.
