Part 5: She Will Be Loved
A/N : If possible listen to either She Will Be Loved by Maroon Five or Tonight I'll be Lonely by Alison Krauss.
Glancing at the piercing vivid numbers on the bedside clock Connie groaned at the display, it was barely gone three am. Slightly dazed as to how she made her way from the bathroom to bed and with a clothes change she released the bed sheet sticking onto her still red raw legs and padded across the damp carpet. All of a sudden sleep seemed to have drained out of her with the neat crisp breathing, she stood in the moon light seeping through the net curtains placing her hand protectively over the bandage covering up her painstaking work. It wasn't fair that he'd stopped her, that he had done the right thing. Slumping onto the sofa in aggrieved tiredness she sat for a moment hoping to drift off into somewhere beyond this room, heaven possibly, if God would accept her. Spying the mini bar acting as TV stand Connie rose to her feet and slowly moved towards it, emptying the various bottles of alcoholic escapisms into her arms, seething in the coolness of the bottles as they tortured her skin. Arranging them on the sofa she carefully lined them up, placing them in alphabetical order, more by way of the shape of the bottle than anything else. It reminded her of when she was little, playing with Daddy's no go bottles always kept her amused, she never touched the liquor inside, Daddy got mad if she did that. But playing with the remaining bottles gave her a rush enough.
Sidelining herself with memories Connie refocused on the task in hand, downing enough alcohol to make her pass out and into an abyss that would prevent her from facing her attacker in a few hours time. She lifted the tiny bottle of archers, letting it slip easily over her lips and down her throat, matching the burning on her skin nicely. Feeling the release as it hit her stomach she whizzed her hands round the second bottle in line, downing it and replacing the bottle to its ordered little line. Two, three, four, five followed in quick succession, before she had time to breathe, having not eaten since the flight home it rushed quickly into her veins pulsating up to her head. It felt good though, too good, she bottomed number six and seven with only the faintest of a hiccup, yet enough to make Ric stir, she'd forgotten she wasn't alone at home, picking away at the remains of Michael's extensive drinks cabinet with no one but the ghosts of Christmas past to keep her company.
It wasn't until Ric had reached the sofa, removing the few bottles that remained unopened, replacing them to the mini bar before sitting forcefully down on the sofa beside her. "Are you going to tell me what that is all about?" He asked her thoughtfully, hoping for no more than a grunt in response, on top her actions the previous night being totally drunk wasn't a good combination.
"I…I can't face him," she sniffed, happily revealing the tragic drunk that she'd mutated into.
"You won't be alone Connie, I'll be there every step of the way," Ric cajoled lightly, putting his arms around her as she let out an uncontrollable howl creating a well of tears on his chest.
"I can't do it, end of," Connie protested, immediately removing herself from his hug and shifting towards the opposite end of the sofa, toying with the bunching material of her night gown.
"Is that what last night was about," Ric stated coherently, unsure of how it she was processing it since all she did was sob even louder.
"Sort of," She shrugged eventually, bringing her legs up towards her chest and cradling her knees gently, anyone knew this stance spoke the volumes words were too hard to speak of, He mimicked her position merely so he could face her clouded gaze more easily.
"Anything you want to share with me? You really scared me last night Connie," Ric admitted finding himself shed his own tear, for such a proud man it shocked him to realise just how much someone else could bore into him, make him feel so attached yet completely free at the same time, give him space when he needed it, yet choke him to tears in the next. Make love to him like no one else had ever done yet need so much attention in return, not that he grudged any of this on her.
"I did the same to Michael," she commented passively, finding more interest in her bandage, still fingering the sealed edges neatly, she could feel Ric's gaze tower over as she did so, leaving her to not bother going any further.
"What do you mean?" Ric responded, gently inviting her to open up more, wondering if it would be any easier considering her current condition.
"After I lost Georgia, I did this," she nodded towards her arm, falling incandescently silent, letting her gaze drop to the floor, her roller coaster ride was worsening with each hour, relatively flat then bumpy the next, unpredictable.
"Why?" Ric replied, stupidly, she'd been a grieving mother, it didn't need a question to ask it, but catching her gaze he noticed she was preparing a response, thinking carefully about it.
"Because I had to watch my daughter, someone I thought I never could have loved as much as I had done, struggle to keep fighting. Two month's Ric. Two months of sitting in an overly bright room gazing through a plastic box at something that weighed less than a bag of sugar experiencing a multitude of pain as she was poked and prodded by things as doctors we see as by the wayside, I had to hold her tiny little hand as she silently screamed in agony. All for her to give up; catch some indescribable infection that makes me wince to this day."
"Connie, you didn't need to do that, you could have talked to someone," Ric trailed off as she shook her head vehemently, gazing back down to the floor, it was a game of looks to them, both slowly battering the pink elephant stuffed right between them.
"Michael was useless, the whole thing, the traumatic birth, the post natal depression I suffered, everything was just a mistake that resulted in his precious trophy wife becoming even more fucked up than she ever had been, emotionally and physically," sighing Connie moved back towards Ric, immediately finding solace in his arms, cradling her wracked body with the gentleness of a giant.
"What did he do exactly," Ric asked softly, her hair smelt as it always did, soft and of painstaking vulnerability, he couldn't explain it to anyone but himself.
"He resented the doctors who cut me open AND scarred me for life. He resented me for being stupid enough to get pregnant in the first place. Worst of all he blamed Georgia. He was her father and he resented her existence"
"But Michael was your husband, it was his job to make it all ok for you, to help you," Ric protested, disgusted that he and Michael were from the same species, never in his bringing up had he been taught to reject a lover or anyone he was remotely involved with, Michael had clearly had other ideas, it was little wonder that she'd turned to self harming if he wasn't able, didn't want to give her the time of day to talk about it. He'd sat as an outsider looking in on Jess' pain after loosing Paris and it had been awful, he was sure it had been the tip of a deep iceberg for Connie. Jess had been lucky, she'd revelled in her son for a few months, enjoyed the smiles and happy times, Connie hadn't seen her daughter smile through the excess of tubes.
"The only time Michael was ever remotely there for me was on her last day, during the moment when we had to decide to turn off her life support, when we had all of an hour to hold her whilst she still had breath in her body, after that he did the worlds greatest escaping act," Connie whispered feeling the beginnings of a headache pound into her troubled mind.
"But you never come across as someone who's been through something like that," Ric stated clumsily, he stuck by his point, to the untrained eye she was a strong, power driven woman who used everyone and anyone to get where she wanted to be, ruthless to the end.
Smiling slightly at his reaction Connie precluded " I knew deep down Michael loved me though, that he was hurting just as much as me, it was love which got us through. What makes the rape worse was that I knew Michael and I had fallen out of love, Ric, I knew it was you that I loved at that moment in time, having him come scrape me up from the hospital was horrendous, its why I've taken it so hard I guess, not having you there right after made me doubt everything I'd ever known,"
Ric sat speechless for a moment, in her own slightly intoxicated was Connie had just admitted she loved him, "Connie, I don't know what to say," he whispered eventually, tightening his grip on her shoulders, letting his masculine hand sooth her tear stained face, kissing away her tears.
"You don't need to say anything at all, just being here is enough, putting up with my shit is enough Ric, you've done more for me than anyone has ever done before," She told him in a moment of complete lucidity, she let a smile cross her face as he rested his chin on her face, his hand protectively on her face, letting her know it was always going to be ok, as long as he was by her side and visa versa. Wrong's put to right.