1 Chapter 5
Chris enters the living room to see Beka sitting on the couch drinking some coffee, just staring out the window next to her. The light from the outside seems to be dull against her face somehow. Beka watches as the few over head pass by, and the ground receive shadow except for a few small places. Then, the sun comes back out and stays that way for minutes at a time until it goes back into hiding for a few seconds. It's depressing somehow, but anything would be depressing to Beka at this moment; she didn't want to have to think of what she had to do.
"Hey, what's the matter?" he asks and comes down to sit next to her.
"You don't want to know," she replies in a pitiful tone.
"Well, it can't be that bad," he says and leans in for a kiss, but Beka pulls away. Puzzled, he asks, "What's the matter? Tell me and maybe I can help?"
Beka sighs and looks down at her shoes, "I…I don't…"
"You don't, what?"
"I don't love you," Beka closes her eyes and looks away.
Chris feels like his heart was just ripped from his body and stabbed a thousand times all over.
"You don't mean that," he chokes.
"Yes I do," she whispers, still looking away.
"No you don't, look at yourself. You can't even look at me. Beka. Beka, look at me and say that again! Don't you dare tell me you don't love me and then you can't even look me in the eye and say it. Rebecca," he takes his hand and gently places it on her face and makes her look into his eyes. "Now, tell me that again. Tell me you don't love me."
"I don't love you," she says.
A single tear rolls down the side of her face and off her chin onto her hand.
"I'm so sorry," she barely whispers.
Christopher gets up and just stares out the window. The same way Beka was earlier, looking up into the sky and out into the ocean. He can't speak and can hardly breathe.
"Well, then," he begins in a low voice. "You should probably go."
And without saying another word Beka gets up and walks out of the room. She stops at the doorway and looks back and shipwrecked image of Christopher standing mindlessly next to the window, just looking at nothing.
"Farewell Christopher," she whispers to herself and quietly moves away and up towards the bedroom to pack.
Chris enters the living room to see Beka sitting on the couch drinking some coffee, just staring out the window next to her. The light from the outside seems to be dull against her face somehow. Beka watches as the few over head pass by, and the ground receive shadow except for a few small places. Then, the sun comes back out and stays that way for minutes at a time until it goes back into hiding for a few seconds. It's depressing somehow, but anything would be depressing to Beka at this moment; she didn't want to have to think of what she had to do.
"Hey, what's the matter?" he asks and comes down to sit next to her.
"You don't want to know," she replies in a pitiful tone.
"Well, it can't be that bad," he says and leans in for a kiss, but Beka pulls away. Puzzled, he asks, "What's the matter? Tell me and maybe I can help?"
Beka sighs and looks down at her shoes, "I…I don't…"
"You don't, what?"
"I don't love you," Beka closes her eyes and looks away.
Chris feels like his heart was just ripped from his body and stabbed a thousand times all over.
"You don't mean that," he chokes.
"Yes I do," she whispers, still looking away.
"No you don't, look at yourself. You can't even look at me. Beka. Beka, look at me and say that again! Don't you dare tell me you don't love me and then you can't even look me in the eye and say it. Rebecca," he takes his hand and gently places it on her face and makes her look into his eyes. "Now, tell me that again. Tell me you don't love me."
"I don't love you," she says.
A single tear rolls down the side of her face and off her chin onto her hand.
"I'm so sorry," she barely whispers.
Christopher gets up and just stares out the window. The same way Beka was earlier, looking up into the sky and out into the ocean. He can't speak and can hardly breathe.
"Well, then," he begins in a low voice. "You should probably go."
And without saying another word Beka gets up and walks out of the room. She stops at the doorway and looks back and shipwrecked image of Christopher standing mindlessly next to the window, just looking at nothing.
"Farewell Christopher," she whispers to herself and quietly moves away and up towards the bedroom to pack.