Chain Reaction 3.1.71: Why

 

(unreliable 1st person)

warning: alcohol use, thoughts of disturbing situations

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Alex

     They have her lying on her side in an effort to ease the swelling in her brain. When I got here, she'd been rushed into emergency surgery, her skull fractured and partly indented into her head. She was bleeding internally. The doctors aren't sure how much lasting damage has been done. They won't know until she wakes up. I don't even know how many hours I've been sitting here staring at her.

    For a little while, I'd had people to talk to. Brielle was here, so were Mikey and Darrin. Ethan and Alaric just left. Isabella would've been here, but she had no one to watch Benjamin, her son (her husband works nights). Brielle offered, but regular visiting hours are over. She'll be here in the morning.

    Emily should be fine. The doctors act optimistic. Her CT scan didn't show any major abnormalities, which is a miracle. Still, no one can be sure of anything until she wakes up, and they have her in an induced coma for a while.

     Darrin had told me everything that'd happened, but I still don't know how to process it. Drake called her, and she'd told no one. The only reason Darrin and Marco were there was by sheer coincidence.

     No, I can't process it. Why did she do it? Why?

     She'd told them that Drake had ordered her to tell no one, especially not any police. What would've happened had Darrin and Marco not happened to be there? Was she really planning on trying to handle everything herself? Why didn't she tell me?

     The tears hardly stopped when I first got here, when she was still in surgery. I was terrified I was going to lose her. Now, I feel like I've somehow forgotten how to cry.

     I just want to know why she did such a thing! Why? Why, Emily, WHY?

     I would've come home to an empty house, not having a clue as to where she was. Well, I suppose that eventually it would've occurred to me. But WHY, dammit! After everything he's done to you, you willingly went back to him, intending to do it alone.

     When Darrin was here, he kept apologizing. Ceaselessly. Like he blames himself. He's right in that he shouldn't have let her go down there by herself, but she'd convinced both of them. They both sent a woman into a situation in which history had shown she would have little to no power. And now, look at her!

     No wonder Darrin kept apologizing. But I'm not upset with him, not as much as he acts like he deserves.

      Emily, what were you thinking?! 

      She was going to leave me.

      Why? Did she somehow perversely prefer him?

      Ever since I got back, the most I've done is kiss her. Everything else has made her uncomfortable. I know that after everything she's been through that I should be grateful that she can handle that. Grateful? No, that's not the right word. Thankful? ... I don't think there's a right word here. Most that have lived through situations like she did wouldn't want anyone to so much as touch them. Was that it? Was she sick to damn death of me touching her? Was she thinking that, hell, if someone's going to touch her it may as well be her rapist in the first place? Why didn't she tell me to stop?

     Doctors and nurses come in and tell me I have to leave for a few hours while they change shifts, briefing the next one. Damn hospitals and their ridiculous practices.

     I go home and go straight to the bar.

     Am I really on my fourth drink? It seems to me that I just got home. Guess not.

     The room rocks, just a little, like a ship at sea. I must've made some strong ones. If I plan to go back to the hospital in a few hours, I'll need a driver to take me.

     I'm going to fire my whole staff. I'd wanted them to stay out of immediate sight, to be unobtrusive. Guess they were too good at that if they let Emily slip through their fingers. Ever since her Uncle Logan kidnapped her, they've been around. Well, there was that huge gap after Graham died and I'd gone to prison. But I'd rehired many of them. I suppose the next ones will have to act in a more-traditional sense. My cozy little house is going to have people standing at the exits. Emily will hate that. She may even see it as being taken prisoner.

      As if I don't already make her uncomfortable as it is. I'm reminded of my train of thought before the doctors came in, how Emily must've hated me touching her.

     For me, all I wanted to do was touch her, to remind myself that it was really her. So I would hold her hands, wrap my arms around her, kiss her, put my face in her hair--it was all like therapy for me. She acted like all that was okay, great even, but I had to keep it at that.

     Have I been torturing her this entire time? Is that why she'd decided to leave without telling anyone, not even me?

     Great big cracks start forming in my heart, and I walk around the bar to get another drink, perhaps something not quite as strong. As I walk back around the bar to sit down, Emily's portrait catches my eye. I go over to it, putting my glass of merlot on the coffee table.

     It looks like she's walking away from me, leaving me.

     Why, Emily? Why did you go back to him? 

     My son is dead. Emily is well and truly mine. But am I nothing more than another monster to her? Am I just the creepy old man in love with a woman young enough to be his daughter?

     I nauseate myself, and I have to sit down to quell the rocking floor.

     I'm sorry, Emily. I wanted what wasn't mine. Drake was right, and you proved it by going back to him. 

     "Creepy old man," Drake's voice echoes in my head, almost as if he's standing right at my ear saying it.

     "I was saving her from you," I argue back aloud, not caring that it sounds like I'm talking to myself.

     "No. You STOLE her from me. She will ALWAYS be mine. 

      "And there's nothing you can do to change that." 

      My son isn't even here, yet he still manages to torture me. I'll never forget that day I walked in on them. I totally lost my sh*t, even though I didn't really, really understand why at the time.

     "She grew up and chose me," I stupidly argue. I gulp down some of my wine.

     Drake laughs. "Oh yeah? Well, looks like while you were 'away,' she changed her mind. She came back to ME." 

     I scowl and drain the glass, slam it down on the coffee table, and stand up, ready to punch someone.

     "Shut up!" I can still hear him laughing. Snarling, I turn around in a circle, almost falling over, as I search for him.

     I'm the only one in the house. Drake is in my head.

     "Never forget I won in the end," his voice tells me, getting quieter as if he were walking away.

     "No." Bah, he's not even listening anymore.

     I stumble around the couch, needing another drink.

     She left me. She went back to him. She'd rather have been with her abuser than with the man who loves her more than anything in this world.

     How could she DO that to me?!

      Is that what you wanted, Emily? I glare at her portrait. Well, I won't have it! I would have pursued you to the ends of the earth! Don't think for one minute I would have just let you go. You're MINE! 

      Her portrait stares back at me, her eyebrow cocked as if taunting me, arguing back as if she were saying 'come and find me then.'

     "I will!" I yell at her.

     Then it's like I'm hit with a bucket of ice water.

     I haven't changed at all, have I? A sob escapes.

     They leave me, choosing others, breaking my heart. All I've ever wanted is someone like Emily to love and cherish every day of my life. Why can't she understand that? Why did she choose to leave, telling no one? 

     Am I unworthy? Am I well and truly cursed? What's wrong with me?

     I bawl into my hands, horribly smudging up the insides of my glasses.

     What will I do if Emily's brain has been damaged? I know the answer to that question: love and care for her until the end of my days, but it wouldn't be the same. She chose Drake; but he's gone, and I love her.

     I love her, and I'm hurt. And angry.

     I sit down and pull my knees to my chest.

       I'm hurt she chose Drake, and I'm angry that she left me.

       The room heaves around. The "ship" I feel like I'm on just entered very rough seas. I worry I'm about to be sick, but instead, I blessedly pass out.