~17~
Sheridan stared at her hands on the steering wheel, her knuckles white, her fingers clenched painfully. She stared at her hands and remembered the scene in Pilar's living room, the images playing like a mocking slideshow in her mind.
If she weren't living it or feeling it, she wouldn't believe it possible to hurt so much and still be breathing.
The snow fell faster now outside her window. Harmony was disappearing beneath a flurry of whiteness. But the Bed and Breakfast loomed before her, looking warm and inviting.
She needed the cold; maybe the numbness would save her.
She stared at her hands again, her eyes drawn to the finger where his ring once rested, and felt a sob rise in her throat along with astonishment over the fact that she had any tears left.
Her hands left the steering wheel to cradle her head, and for a brief moment she wallowed in the enormity of her grief and the choices that had led her to this place in time. In this cold car, all alone as Thanksgiving Day winded down.
She hadn't deserved them. But had she deserved this?
What do you think?
Even without knowing all the facts, does Sheridan deserve Luis's harsh treatment of her?
Let me know.
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Thanks so much for reading!