A/N: Well, I am honored if you have kept reading this far, to say the
least. Now, that it is late, after watching Silence of the Lambs for the
first time with my boyfriend who I have not seen in a week, I am ready to
write another chapter.here goes. Hopefully Anthony Hopkins won't haunt me
too badly.
Chapter 2: Breaking
"And here I am, talking with you on this fine evening, in a warehouse. I'm presuming I'm still in Italy."
Michael simply nodded. He just sat there for a couple of minutes, avoiding eye contact with me. Jesus boy, I'm not some sort of freak. I won't burn you with my eyes.
Finally, he spoke:
"And I thought my life was interesting." I nodded back. The silence was hurting my ears, torturing me. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to prompt him. I guess we didn't really need to talk. But he did anyway.
"When my father died, it felt as though my whole world completely collapsed around me. If I had lost my mother as well, I- I don't know. I can't imagine what would've happened." He paused for a minute. I didn't say anything, I was too afraid to interrupt anything that may come to his lips.
"So, in other words, I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want pity. You don't strike me as the type that would. But," he stopped again. "I- I am truly sorry that you live my worst nightmare."
I spoke up this time, "what's that?"
"To feel unloved and incapable of loving- something I feel that I've been through for the past year and a half. I know it's not true. There are still people who love me. But I don't feel it anymore. I feel so cold inside. I can't explain it. Jesus, why the hell am I telling you this? You're a complete stranger. I met you, what? An hour ago?"
"Sometimes strangers make the best listeners," I offered.
He gave a short, sad laugh. "Yeah, I guess they do." For the first time all hour, he stared straight at me. His fiery eyes were like lasers. I had to look away. It made me feel something in the pit of my stomach that I recognized, but knew I never wanted.
"Why did you look away? You've been trying to get me to look into your eyes all evening, and right when I do, you look away. Why is that? Are you afraid?" Why could he read me? Hell yes I was afraid. I was afraid of him. Afraid of life, tomorrow, love. I was scared to death of what was going to become of me and my pointless life. Was it even worth it anymore?
"No, I'm not afraid," I lied. "And aren't we supposed to be talking about you here, Michael? You already know about my horrible life."
"You know, I think your life is less horrible than you make it." That pissed me off.
"Oh yeah? How? If you're such a fucking genius, then tell me. How is it so wonderful?" Damnit, my voice cracked. I realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I was sobbing. I hadn't cried in years.
I slapped my hands over my eyes and let it go. I was hysterical! All the anger and the hatred inside of me felt like it was squeezing out of me with each tear. And I couldn't stop it.
I felt an arm go around my waist and another creep around my shaking shoulder. I moved toward Michael's warm body as he held me as I broke down.
We must have sat there for an hour.
Finally, when no more tears would come, I pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes again. He stroked my face as if he'd known me for years, leaned over, and gave me a tiny peck on the cheek.
And my insides exploded again. But this time, it felt good. I felt a warmth sweep over me like a nice warm blanket. I could have curled up there and fallen asleep. It was comforting to sit there, looking into those green eyes and-
I felt loved. For the first time since my father died, I actually felt loved. It wasn't a romantic love that was radiating from those beautiful eyes, but it was genuine, pure, honest to goodness love. It had to be. I know, I've said it a thousand times: I don't believe in love. But I was experiencing it first-hand. There was no mistaking it. He loved me.
And I knew that I loved him.
A/N: Does that work? Just keep in mine that I'm a die-hard S/V fan, and I wouldn't betray that. Yeah, I know my chapters tend to be short. But, word wise.this was the longest. Please forgive the shortness of the chapters!!
Chapter 2: Breaking
"And here I am, talking with you on this fine evening, in a warehouse. I'm presuming I'm still in Italy."
Michael simply nodded. He just sat there for a couple of minutes, avoiding eye contact with me. Jesus boy, I'm not some sort of freak. I won't burn you with my eyes.
Finally, he spoke:
"And I thought my life was interesting." I nodded back. The silence was hurting my ears, torturing me. I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to prompt him. I guess we didn't really need to talk. But he did anyway.
"When my father died, it felt as though my whole world completely collapsed around me. If I had lost my mother as well, I- I don't know. I can't imagine what would've happened." He paused for a minute. I didn't say anything, I was too afraid to interrupt anything that may come to his lips.
"So, in other words, I'm sorry. I know you probably don't want pity. You don't strike me as the type that would. But," he stopped again. "I- I am truly sorry that you live my worst nightmare."
I spoke up this time, "what's that?"
"To feel unloved and incapable of loving- something I feel that I've been through for the past year and a half. I know it's not true. There are still people who love me. But I don't feel it anymore. I feel so cold inside. I can't explain it. Jesus, why the hell am I telling you this? You're a complete stranger. I met you, what? An hour ago?"
"Sometimes strangers make the best listeners," I offered.
He gave a short, sad laugh. "Yeah, I guess they do." For the first time all hour, he stared straight at me. His fiery eyes were like lasers. I had to look away. It made me feel something in the pit of my stomach that I recognized, but knew I never wanted.
"Why did you look away? You've been trying to get me to look into your eyes all evening, and right when I do, you look away. Why is that? Are you afraid?" Why could he read me? Hell yes I was afraid. I was afraid of him. Afraid of life, tomorrow, love. I was scared to death of what was going to become of me and my pointless life. Was it even worth it anymore?
"No, I'm not afraid," I lied. "And aren't we supposed to be talking about you here, Michael? You already know about my horrible life."
"You know, I think your life is less horrible than you make it." That pissed me off.
"Oh yeah? How? If you're such a fucking genius, then tell me. How is it so wonderful?" Damnit, my voice cracked. I realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. I was sobbing. I hadn't cried in years.
I slapped my hands over my eyes and let it go. I was hysterical! All the anger and the hatred inside of me felt like it was squeezing out of me with each tear. And I couldn't stop it.
I felt an arm go around my waist and another creep around my shaking shoulder. I moved toward Michael's warm body as he held me as I broke down.
We must have sat there for an hour.
Finally, when no more tears would come, I pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes again. He stroked my face as if he'd known me for years, leaned over, and gave me a tiny peck on the cheek.
And my insides exploded again. But this time, it felt good. I felt a warmth sweep over me like a nice warm blanket. I could have curled up there and fallen asleep. It was comforting to sit there, looking into those green eyes and-
I felt loved. For the first time since my father died, I actually felt loved. It wasn't a romantic love that was radiating from those beautiful eyes, but it was genuine, pure, honest to goodness love. It had to be. I know, I've said it a thousand times: I don't believe in love. But I was experiencing it first-hand. There was no mistaking it. He loved me.
And I knew that I loved him.
A/N: Does that work? Just keep in mine that I'm a die-hard S/V fan, and I wouldn't betray that. Yeah, I know my chapters tend to be short. But, word wise.this was the longest. Please forgive the shortness of the chapters!!
