"I love you Klas"

Part 12

Mickey's pov:

I brought a pink cat plush for Willow, hoping it would be a gesture of reconciliation. Knowing I had wronged her, I needed her forgiveness desperately because my love for her was immeasurable. As I returned home, I took a deep breath and attempted to open the door, only to find it locked. I knew Klas wouldn't readily open the door, understanding the gravity of the situation, but I had to try. Ringing the doorbell, Klas opened the door, his expression a mix of confusion and sighs.

"Look, I'm here to apologize," I explained, and he nodded, acknowledging the sincerity of my intentions. He was aware of the depth of my love for Willow, and I was willing to do anything for her. Walking in, I saw Willow staring at me, a subtle tension in her demeanor. "Hey, Willy, it's Daddy," I gently said, and she remained silent. "I got you something," I continued, approaching her slowly. Placing the plush on the table, she took it, hugging it to her chest. "Thank you, Papusha," she smiled, and a wave of happiness washed over me. I kissed her forehead, and she giggled. "I'm sorry, okay?" I said, and she nodded, smiling.

"She's going to school now," Klas mentioned while I played with Willow. Frowning, I hesitated, unwilling to send Willow to a school that had proven to be careless, leading to her kidnapping. "No, she's not," I asserted firmly, prompting a puzzled frown from Klas as he gazed at me. "Yes, she is," he insisted, and I stood up, a sense of unease overwhelming me. The fear of losing my precious daughter again drove my refusal, and I struggled to understand why my husband couldn't grasp that.

"I'm not letting her go to school," I declared, lifting Willow into my arms. However, Klas chose to resist, slamming a plate onto the table abruptly, causing Willow to flinch in surprise. "Stop it!" I yelled, my voice raised in frustration, and Klas retorted, escalating the tension. Willow covered her ears, whimpering in distress.

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" I shouted, storming into the living room with Willow, and Klas followed.

Klas's pov:

I followed Mickey, my frustration evident. "Give her back; she's going to school, Mickey," I insisted sternly, but he refused. Tired of Mickey's stubbornness, I attempted to retrieve Willow, only to have my hands pushed away, intensifying my anger. "Mickey!" I yelled, and he stood up, frowning, clearly upset. In my heightened emotional state, I lashed out, spewing hurtful words without realizing their impact. "You know what, Mickey? I'm tired of you. I picked you up from the street just to marry you and let you step on me, you dirty thug!" The words left my mouth, and I felt an insurmountable pain as Mickey's punch landed on my jaw. Stumbling to the floor, I heard Willow screaming in fear.

"What the fuck did you say to me, asshole?" Mickey yelled, his anger reaching a level I hadn't seen in five years. "What's wrong with you!" I retorted, picking myself up as Willow clung to me tightly. "You don't come back to us, Mickailo," I declared through tears, my jaw throbbing as I spoke. Grabbing my phone, I carried Willow out, expecting Mickey to run out and beg, but he didn't. The door closed, and nothing. I realized Mickey was just a thug, lacking the intention to build a family. I ran to my car and drove to Natalie's house, both Willow and I in tears.

I arrived at Natalie's, quickly getting out with a crying Willow in my arms. Knocking repeatedly, Max opened the door, shocked to see both of us, me sobbing and carrying a bruised jaw, and Willow in tears. "I knew it," he muttered, ushering us inside. Sitting on the sofa, Millie ran down and picked up Willow, placing her next to me. Natalie joined us, rubbing my back in an attempt to calm me down. I sobbed harder, the memory of Mickey's punch replaying painfully in my mind.

"What happened?" Max questioned sternly, clearly upset. "He wanted Willow to stay home, but I insisted she go to school. I didn't want her to miss for unnecessary reasons, and I said something mean, and he punched me," I sobbed, leaning into Natalie's shoulder as she pulled me close. "I'm sorry it happened. You can stay with us for a bit," she offered, and I nodded, still hearing Willow's sobs. She must have been terrified witnessing the earlier fight and Mickey's punch.

We managed to calm down, and now Willow was playing with Millie, her face still red from the earlier crying. In the kitchen, Natalie, Max, and I sat together. Max, sipping his coffee, asked, "What are you gonna do?" I shook my head, uncertain about my next steps. I missed Mickey terribly, but I knew he didn't need me the way I needed him. I was just a part of his life's chapter, not intended for the rest of his life. Tears fell, and Max came over, hugging me from behind. "It'll be okay, Klas, it'll soon be okay," he reassured, and I nodded. "I miss him," I choked on my tears, and Max nodded, understanding. "I'll come over later if I'm not busy to check on him," he offered, and I nodded.

Feeling exhausted and stressed, I decided to take a nap. I wiped my tears, got up from the chair, and went to our old room - just an empty space with a bed. Closing the door, I laid down and sighed. Tiredness overwhelmed me as I pulled out my phone, notifying my assistant that I wouldn't be coming to work today. My jaw stung as I tried to move it; Mickey sure knew how to punch. Closing my eyes, I attempted to fall asleep, but my restless mind kept my eyes wide open.

Mickey's pov:

As Klas departed, leaving me alone in the house, waves of upset and regret overwhelmed me. My body seemed to take control, unstoppable in its actions. My intentions were never to harm Klas, yet I found myself unable to restrain the destructive force within. The aftermath was a tableau of despair-vases lay shattered on the floor, pillows strewn chaotically, and the once pristine television now a victim of my impulsive rage, struck by a marble meant for the living room's aesthetic.

In the ensuing two hours, my emotional turmoil manifested in the disarray that surrounded me. This was not what I sought; my sole desire was the warmth of family, a sentiment overshadowed by the unexpected chaos. My intentions had been noble, but Klas, in his refusal to heed, disrupted the harmony I envisioned. A scream echoed through the house, a futile attempt to release the pent-up anger within.

As the realization of my actions sunk in, a profound sadness enveloped me. My daughter's cries and screams during the altercation echoed in my mind, intensifying my guilt. Collapsing to my knees, tears flowed freely-this was never my intention, and the weight of remorse settled heavily upon me.

I succumbed to the weight of guilt, seeking solace at the bottom of a bottle. Retrieving my car keys, I navigated swiftly to a nearby store, urgency guiding my steps. A collection of beers filled my arms as I approached the checkout counter. Though I was armed with the exact change, impatience gripped me as the cashier's deliberate pace tested my resolve. In a moment of irrationality, I tossed the money onto the counter and snatched the beers without a second glance.

As I made my hasty exit, an unwarranted remark from the cashier stoked the flames of my anger. Abandoning reason, I abandoned the beers, launching into an inexplicable fury that left the cashier battered and broken. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, I ceased the assault and departed, leaving behind the lifeless body of the cashier.

Examining my bloodied knuckles as I drove home, I disregarded the evidence of my violence. Upon arrival, the beers accompanied me to the sofa, where I sought refuge from the chaotic scene around me. With each gulp, the numbing embrace of alcohol blurred the lines of logic, eroding the layers of sadness and guilt. In the haze of intoxication, relief and numbness enveloped me, temporarily shielding me from the tumultuous emotions that had driven me to this point.

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