After my wounds had healed from our battle with Darla, I packed up some of my things, booked the first flight to Paris, and was on that flight. I did call Whistler and make sure that he could come and be there when I couldn't. He understood and even saw it coming. I left Angel a note and was on the flight that I had booked.
I thought the waiting was hard, but the walking away was infinitely more painful. Sitting on that plane as it made its way down the runway and to my destination where I would be able to escape the constant struggle that had become my life in the past few months, I let the only tears that I have ever shed for myself and my situation fall. The struggle was just too much, and I don't mean the demons. That was the easy part. My struggle was within myself. I had to fight so hard to keep all the emotions in check. I had to keep them hidden from him and everyone else. These emotions just didn't seem to want to go away, they seemed hell bent on taking over my entire being. During those first few minutes of my escape the tears came, and then they stopped. I couldn't let grief consume me. I had to use this time to get rid of the confusion and deal with what was ahead. I really couldn't have even fathomed before I was faced with it, how hard it was to be in his life instead of on the outside looking in.
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