DISCLAIMER: Do I really have to say that I don't own anyone?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is chapter 3 of "Life After Rampage," takes place right after chapter 2, and is from Abby's POV. Please review, and let me know if you like the first-person POV or if should I stick with third person. Thanks! Also, thanks for all the kind reviews I've gotten after chapters 1 and 2!
THE MORNING AFTER
I wake feeling more rested and at peace than I have in…well, too long to remember. At first, I can't figure out why I feel so good. Then the events of last night come flooding back, and my sense of well-being evaporates. I know that it was good for me to tell Luka everything, and that's why I'm feeling so peaceful, but I can't help a sense of dread coming over me. I notice that he is not beside me in bed anymore and I know that I have finally succeeded in making him hate me. He deserved to know, but still it hurts. Ah, how it hurts.
I roll over onto my back and get the shock of my life. I see Luka slumped in my chair across the room, sleeping. I can tell by his face that he's been crying, and I wonder why he stayed. I shake my head, thinking maybe I'm not as awake as I originally thought. But, opening my eyes again, I see him there, his mouth slightly open as he breathes softly. He is still dressed in his scrubs; he came over right after his shift. I notice he is even still wearing his shoes, and my heart goes out to this gentle man. It is all I can do not to cry out at the pain I've surely caused him. When he wakes up, I am sure he will leave, never wanting to see me again. But, for now, he is here. I let a measure of hope seep into my consciousness.
Quietly, so as not to wake Luka, I slip out of bed and head to the bathroom. I undress and step under the hot water, letting it soak away the remainders of last night's tears. Once again, I am plagued by doubts – does Luka really hate me? I wouldn't blame him if he did. I certainly don't look in the mirror and love what I see. I think that he probably was okay until I told him about my pregnancy and abortion. What an idiot I am – he lost his children to a war and here I tell him that I voluntarily killed my own child. Of course he hates me. Who wouldn't? I was crazy to hope that he would understand. Sure he's still here – it was nearly three a.m. when he carried me to bed last night. The fact that he is sleeping in my bedroom right now only means that he was too tired to go home.
I almost start crying again, fearing that I've lost the one person that might have truly loved me. Instead, I turn the water off and towel down. I slip on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, running my fingers through my hair to comb it. I don't have to go to work until this evening, but suddenly I have to get out of here, away from Luka sleeping in the next room, away from his wrath that will surely come out when he wakes. I feel like I'm suffocating in my own apartment.
I tiptoe to my bedroom to retrieve my purse and to my dismay find the chair empty. He's left. I stand in the middle of the room for a moment, lost. I finally move into the kitchen and get my second shock of the morning. Luka sits at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in front of him. He looks up at me as I walk in and I can tell that he didn't sleep much at all last night. I am frozen, unsure of what this means. He gives me a tired smile, saying, "I helped myself to your coffee maker."
I feel my breath whoosh out as relief floods me – there is none of the angry yelling that I had psyched myself for. To my surprise, I feel tears coming again – when will I stop crying? "Luka," I begin in a whisper, "I'm sorry, so sorry…I know you hate me…you don't have to stay…"
He cuts me off with a shake of his head and rises from the table. I see him walking over to me as if I am outside my body, a spectator. Still rambling apologies, I watch him putting his arms around me, stroking my back. "Shhh…Abby…" he murmurs against my hair.
In a daze, I wrap my arms around his middle and lean into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Then – miracle of miracles – I hear three words that mean everything to me: "I love you." He says it about three more times before I let myself believe it. I think we are both crying now, and I lift my head to look him in the eye. Then I know – and let myself say those words back to him, for the first time ever. He lowers his head and his lips meet mine, in the sweetest kiss I have ever felt. We are laughing and crying and kissing, all at the same time, and I know all is forgiven.
I disengage my mind and take stock of my emotions and find that I am happy. So happy to be in this man's arms. I have not felt this way in so long and have almost forgotten what it feels like, happiness. I rest my head against Luka's chest, feeling safe and at home.