The Ember In The Storm (undergoing editing)

Part II

    Perhaps not twenty four hours had elapsed since of Jackson's departure.

Elizabeth could recall that night so well. She was seated on the bed and holding onto Jackson's shirt, her eyes shut as she prayed for his safety.

She felt anxious and wondered if the prayer was only said to comfort herself. She could feel a tight knot in her stomach and her palms sweat profusely that she wondered if it was normal.

She was dwelling and drowning in many emotions that evening. Firstly, anger was one of her greatest emotions. This had been the second time he had left her without a word of goodbye. She figured he was not one of goodbyes. Yet, they did countlessly discuss on communication.

What seemed so difficult for him to just look and speak to her? Did she not matter enough for him to do so?

And beside anger, she felt intense... she could not explain it. All she knew was that she wanted him near. No, she needed him near.

Sinful emotions arose from her that evening that only he could eliminate. The thought of he himself left her joints weak and her mind causing her to hallucinate his body against hers. She absolutely did not like it.

Angrily, Elizabeth stood to her feet and walked to Jackson's working desk. He left it just as disheveled as usual. For once she did not want to clean it.

Instead, she caressed a finger against the half glass of water he touched the previous night, working on that exact desk and preparing for the following morning.

She remembered just how preoccupied he was. His responses with her were short and quick. She craved his attention like a toddler. A woman like her never needed a man's attention as much as she needed his that night.

She actually preferred having an alcoholic for a husband than a workaholic.

Eventually Elizabeth was exhausted with his replies and decided to lay on the bed instead, hoping she would fall asleep quickly enough whilst her eyes gazed at him working and analyzing every muscle turn against his tight shirt whenever he stretched out for anything across the table.

Eventually Jackson himself was worn out and released a sigh of relief upon completing his sketch. Elizabeth was still awake when he turned to look at her.

She smiled as she remembered his words: "for a second there I thought you died. You are never this quiet".

She was annoyed by his words. What an arrogant man.

"It is madness when one speaks to a sculpture", she had retorted, looking away from him and at the chandelier above her. She had just noticed it's grandeur. Yet somehow, her husband blocked the view with his head, looking down at her curiously.

Elizabeth presently could not recall what he had said to her, she was drowning in infuriation to care. Whatever it was, he said it genuinely and really pleased for her attention.

Elizabeth turned her head and looked over at the bed, remembering the event of the previous night.

That man's touch only seemed to captivate her the more she felt it. She needed him more and more each night.

Elizabeth slammed the cup against the table, jolting to her feet with infuriation as to how she was expected to last a week without him when she could barely last a night.

She was becoming dependent on his presence around her and that... that itself terrified her. She did not enjoy the emotions spiraling within her. The emotions that made her stomach curl and the corners of her lips lift at the thought of him. She loathed them. She loathed him.