Storyteller

Chapter 16

Tim POV:

I've been sitting outside of Carrie's, hyperventilating for about a half hour. I didn't mean to hit her again... I didn't want her to be afraid of me again. 

But seeing her grasping onto that bottle again, the same one beside her when they found her after the crash, I couldn't think straight. The only thing worse than finding her with the bottle, was watching her speed down the driveway, not only horrified of me, but intoxicated. 

Finding her here was a relief for a moment, until she started to speak. She's mad, and she has every right to be. I abused her. 

I drive around downtown, trying to clear my mind. I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to make her trust me again. 

I arrive at a stoplight, and look toward the sidewalk to my right. A beautiful young, blonde girl holds a little baby boy in her arms, while a tall burly man follows her, holding a tiny little girl's hand tightly, guiding her through the crowds forming around the coffee stands along the street. The little girl smiles up at the man, and the man looks down at her in return and smiles brightly.

I jump, as the driver behind me lays on their horn. I look up to see the light is green. 

When I show up back at the house, Gracie is sitting impatiently in the living room. She sits like her mother, leaning forward, ready to stand. I shut the door quietly behind me, and shuffle in, laying my keys and wallet on the counter. 

"Did you hit mom last night?" Gracie asks abruptly, making my chest hurt. Her eyes study me carefully. I shake my head. 

"No, honey..." I lie. She knows better, and becomes tense. She doesn't dare look me in the eyes. 

"Don't lie to me. I saw her leave. You hit her." She starts to cry, turning toward the stairs. I feel paralyzed. 

"Honey, I didn't mean to..." I spit out quickly, wanting her to stay and let me talk to her. She shakes her head, and crosses her arms in front of her. 

"Were you drinking?" She cries out, tears streaming down her cheeks. I shake my head, not lying this time. "Dad, don't lie to me..." She raises her voice, crying harder. 

"Gracie, I wasn't." I try to reassure her. She takes a deep, shaky breath, before breaking down. 

"I found the bottle of wine in the cabinet." She informs me. 

"It's not mine, Gracie!" I start to plead, wanting her to believe me. She doesn't. I can tell by the way she looks at me. She looks at me with disgust. 

"You're an alcoholic..." She screams, running up the stairs. I stay frozen in the kitchen, trying to catch my breath. 

I sit down on the couch, trying to catch a breath, when a memory pops in my mind... 

Faith walked in with bloodshot eyes, avoiding confrontation by all means possible. She dropped her bag on the first step, and dashed upstairs, tiptoeing, as if it would make me forget that she had passed. 

When I arrived at the top of the stairs, I could hear her hyperventilating. She sat in Maggie's nursery, and sobbed like a child. I walked in slowly, making sure not to startle her. She cringed, as if my presence hurt her, and I began to apologize for the night before. I had been drunk, and I beat the hell out of her. She nodded quickly, and stared down in the crib, placing her finger under her runny nose. She stood up, and reached her arm into the crib, brushing back Maggie's blonde hair. I watched her closely, trying to figure out what is going on. 

"Where did you go last night?" I asked, feeling a little afraid. She shook her head to dismiss it, looking out at the window and placing her hand on her stomach. I allowed myself to grin, knowing this is the tell-tale motion. I shook it off. "You're pregnant." I smiled a little saying the words. 

I watched her chest deflate, as if she had been kicked in the stomach. She clenched her teeth together and started sobbing once more, almost howling. I was quick to aid her, and tried my best to keep her calm. 

"Honey, this is a good thing..." I reassured her. "Last night was the last time. I'm better, I promise." I said, squeezing her hand. She tried to pull away, but I squeezed a little too tight. 

"Stop..." She pled, putting her hands in front of her in surrender. She shook her head slowly, and stared out the window once more. I didn't quite understand why she wasn't as elated as I was. As I went to push her hair behind her ear, she turned toward me, looked me in the eye, and crushed me. 

"I got an abortion." She spat out unwillingly. She watched my eyes fade, while I bit my lip in an attempt not to lose it. She started to cry harder, covering her mouth as she sobbed. I remember looking at the despair in her, and just wanting nothing but to harm her... That was the first time I ever hit that crossroads... 

I stood up, and walked out of the nursery, trying to find some way to breathe while she chased me down the hall. She watched me pack up a duffel bag full of clothes, and begged me to stay. 

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" She finally cried out, standing at the foot of the bed. Tears dripped slowly from her jaw, down onto the carpet, hanging on her jawline for a moment or two before releasing their hold. I remember hating her for saying that. 

"That wasn't your decision to make." I said, looking at her with betrayal in my eyes. She didn't buy it, and as a matter of fact, it disgusted her. 

"You're telling me that I should've brought another child into this clusterfuck of a marriage?" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "You're telling me, that I should've thrown a baby into the crossfire? Gracie's already picking up that Daddy beats Momma dynamic, alright? Don't tell me I made the wrong decision." I watched her veins pop out of her neck as she strained and screeched. 

"You should've discussed it with me, before killing my child." I said quietly, sticking my finger up in her face. Her eyes strained as her nostrils flared. She was done. 

"I want a divorce." 

"No." I answered quickly, as I always did. 

"That's not up for you to decide." She mocked, trying to rip off her ring. 

"If you want to see those girls, then yes, it is up for me to decide." I growled, threatening her as I always did. If I threatened custody, she would stay. She'd stay for the girls, without a doubt. 

She ripped off her ring and laid it in her palm for a moment, leaving us in a momentary silence. She looked up at me, the bruises still clear around her throat. She shook her head, and started crying, her shoulders heaving. I stepped near her, causing her to rotate away from me. 

"Faith," I started, before I heard the sound of a little ring bouncing on the wooden floorboard. 

I looked up into her eyes after staring at the ring for a few moments to see her standing nearly emotionless. That's when I lost her.