A/N.: I'm so sorry for the infrequent updates, but unfortunately I've realsied that there's another life which requires my attention. Thanks a lot to my Beta ParisAmy and for the reviews and to those who read this story =)

9.1 Revelation

Ryan told me that you needed help. I didn't listen and instead slapped his face, although I knew he was right. Well, that evening I came home. My nerves were on the edge that day, and the thought of having to listen to one of Ryan's lectures was tearing at my thin nerves already. Who'd ever thought that it'd be Ryan one day lecturing me about my false behaviour? I only wish I'd reacted as he used to do: calm and thoughtful. I never did. I came home and I could smell that Ryan was preparing dinner. I guess cooking has some kind of soothing effect on him, because the worse things became at home, the more he was cooking.

"Hey Dad, Ryan made his spaghetti for tonight." Seth greeted me. He likes this spaghetti. I don't know what's so special about it. The recipe is simple, but it tastes amazing. I've never told Ryan that. I took everything what he did for granted, not even wasting a thought about his wellbeing. Generally speaking: I didn't waste a thought about both of the boys. I didn't even think about Seth.

"Hey Sandy." Ryan greeted me too, when I emerged in the kitchen. "You look tired." No matter what I did, he never let me down. I ought to have seen that he looked exhausted too. That he was at his limit and that he needed a break. I think I saw it, but I didn't pay attention. I was too absorbed in my problems. I didn't even realise that my problems were also those of my family.

Dinners in the evening were silent. There was no babbling conversation anymore. The atmosphere was strained almost all hours of the day. Not even Seth had started one of his usual tales. I can't remember when he'd stopped doing so. Both boys were barely eating what they used to. I ought to have been alerted by that, but I wasn't; simply because I had my focus on myself and how miserable I was. After dinner Ryan was cleaning the table and the dishes as usual. I didn't help. I didn't even think that he'd liked to have my help. He was carrying the dished into the kitchen, carefully. I could see that he was shaking. There must have been so much tense buried inside of him – or he was just tired. I can't tell.

"Sandy?" He asked me and I looked up from my newspaper. I didn't give him an answer, but waited for him to start.

"I…know you're busy with your job…but I can't handle all of this anymore. I mean…school, the household…Kirsten…it's…"

"There's nothing wrong with my wife." I reproached him. Ryan was asking for help. This ought to have set off my alarm system.

"Yeah…right…but…I could need a little help with all of this."

"Nobody asked you to do any of this." I answered. I behaved like a little child. I don't know what I'd been thinking when I said this to him.

"Yeah…but nobody's mad about me doing it either." He responded. I slammed the newspaper on the counter to tell him that he wasn't supposed to talk to me like this. He flinched at the sound. It's awful how I still can remember his reactions, but not having taken them into account at that time.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"Stop this attitude of yours. You're insulting my wife, complaining about the little support we demand from you, what is this? A teenage rebellion?"

"You're right…I'm sorry." He didn't speak, but whispered again. He was shaking even worse than before. There must have been so much rage boiling and I'm glad that I've never witnessed him releasing it.

Shatter. There it had been. The trigger. Something snapped in my head and I got up from my chair.

"What the hell!" I screamed at him. Ryan was kneeling on the floor, picking up the shards of glass from the floor.

"I…I'm sorry. I'll clean it up and replace it's…nothing to worry about." He said.

"Nothing to worry about? Now you're even damaging my possessions?"

"I'm sorry Sandy, I didn't intend to do so."

"I'm not buying all your 'sorry's' anymore." I said and slapped his face with the newspaper; not once, not twice.

"Stop it." He said. I didn't listen. I've been in rage and I was slapping him with the newspaper like a dog that doesn't obey.

"Stop it!" He suddenly hissed and grabbed the other end of the newspaper. The strength which got transferred through this action should have made me aware about his tension, his rage and his aggression – his anger.

"I said I'm sorry and now stop being like this. You're not yourself anymore." He hissed and tore the newspaper out of my hand. I've never seen this glance before. It was intense. It was deep dark and cold, as if he only with his eyes could hurt me, if he only stared long enough at me. He was right, I hadn't been myself and that's why I didn't recognise the danger in his eyes.

"Not myself? You haven't been yourself all the time. You've been playing the young innocent boy and now this? How shall I know that you haven't been the one making Kirsten that sick?" I screamed into his face.

"Sandy, leave it with that, okay? I think you need some rest. You've had an awful day and…"

"Stop patronizing me." I slapped his face with my hand.

"Stop slapping me and we can talk about it." He answered in an unusual smug tone.

"You want to take me on?" I asked him and started pushing him around. His body was heavy, as I thought it was.

"No I don't, but I won't allow you to be someone who you're not."He didn't raise his voice, but his voice had been strong.

"Don't worry I'll show you who I am." I told him and pushed.

"Sandy, stop it. You don't want to do that." He said. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't feeling. I don't know what went on.

"Who the fuck are you telling me what I want and what not?"I pushed him again and again. He was stumbling backwards. And there it had been. This dead-look. Entire emptiness. Dark and numb. Ryan had simply shut down.

"If this is what you have to do. I'm not going to defend myself, 'cause I don't wanna hurt you." His voice turned from strong into soft and understanding. Permission. He was giving me permission and he didn't punch back. I was pushing him until he stood with his back against the wall. I didn't plan to. He didn't react. He didn't respond and that was making me even angrier than I'd already been. I've never felt this rage before. It was as if some kind of beast was gnawing on me, forcing me to relieve it, because I couldn't stand the pain it was causing anymore. I had to let it free. It was such an intense feeling. I wasn't able to brace myself. I wasn't able to hold back the beast inside of me. I looked at Ryan, into his eyes and he looked back. Our eyes locked and that pulled the trigger. The beast finally reached the surface. It wasn't me, but the beast. It was the beast that felt its body entirely tense up, making fists and then hauling off after Ryan. He stood there at the wall, motionless like he was his own shadow. My cold knuckles collided with the solid bone of his cheek. I felt a pain running through my fingers. It was as if the beast inside me needed this to lick blood. The feeling of the pain caused relief – relief I've been seeking for and now had found. I hauled off another time. My fist met with the hot skin and the cheek bone. It was like punching against a wall. I watched how Ryan slowly turned his head back, which snapped to the other side under the force of the punches. It was the third punch into his face that made him sliding down on the wall, falling onto his knees. Blood was dripping down his chin. With a hand he wiped it away. He looked at me. I should have recognised the desperation in his eyes.

"Are you finished now? Can I go?"He asked, struggling back to his feet.

"Oh yeah, I'm finished with you." I said and grabbed his upper arm, dragging him back onto his feet. He hadn't gained his balance back then, but I pushed him into the direction of the patio. I didn't want to see that my few punches already had an impact on his body. He stumbled into the corner of the table. I could hear him wincing. I grabbed his t-shirt in the back and nearly through him towards the door. He lost his balance and stumbled into one of the chairs, crashing it and his body onto the ground. The chair was destructed into pieces, solely through his body weight.

"Get up and piss off, now!" I screamed at him, grabbed his arm once again and finally managed to throw him out of the house, where he landed ungentle on his knees.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard Seth' voice from behind. My head turned back. I saw his face: disgust and unbelieving.

"Nothing Seth, go." Ryan answered calmly. I looked back to him, into his battered face which started to adopt all colours.

"But…"Seth was looking back and forth between Ryan and me. I don't know what this must have seemed like for him.

"Go to Summer Seth." Ryan told him. His voice was steely again.

"But…Dad, did you…what's going on?"

"Go. To. Summer. Seth! Now!" Ryan had screamed at him.

"O…okay…you know what you're doing. You always do." Seth said and turned on his heels to the front door and went away. I looked at Ryan. Slowly my mind started working again and I saw what I had done. I felt sick of myself. I looked at my hands. My knuckles were red and swollen. I looked back to Ryan who was heavily breathing on all his fours.

I was disgusted by myself. I've had broken the primary principle.

"Ryan…" I wanted to go to him, help him up. He stretched out his arm and with his hand he signalled me to stop.

"Don't…Sandy…just…leave." He said and in his voice I could hear confusion and pain.

"But…I didn't…"

"You did." He said. Our eyes locked one last time. He had shut down. He was dark. There was nothing else. The wall he had slowly pulled down. The wall which had cost him effort and energy to pull down went up again. I've made a mistake and I never can make it good again.

K.

"…the next day he was gone." My husband finishes. I look at him. I have no doubt that he's still the man that I've married twenty-three years ago. I only wonder who the antagonist of the story had been he told me.

"I don't believe you." I said firmly. I couldn't. This wasn't my husband.

"It's true." He answered. I could see the tears now rolling down his cheeks. I have doubts whether this is the man I've married twenty-three years ago.

"How…could you? He's a kid, working his hands to the bones for keeping the family together and functioning and …you did that to him?" I can't warp my head around this. This is impossible.

"I know…and…I don't know how I could have done this. I don't know how I'm supposed to live with this and…"

"Stop drowning in self-pity. Did you ever think what this must have done to Ryan? He trusted us…you, he respected and looked up at you, and you…" I'm confused and furious. I know I have no right to lecture my husband. I haven't been much better. I've verbally abused him and made him a slave of my alcoholism. I probably hurt him as much as my husband did. Things made a clear sense now.