Chapter 10: Not The Answer

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Chapter Ten

NOT THE ANSWER

Matthew’s fist slammed down on the dining table, startling Amy. Her eyes widened, though the rest of her expression was blank.

                “Damn it Amy, eat something!”

                Amy remained emotionless, letting her momentary surprise pass. “I’m not hungry,” she lied in her soft, weakened voice.

                “The hell you’re not! You haven’t eaten anything in over a week! Look at you – you’re making yourself sick!”

                Matthew clenched his fists before him, watching his muscles contract tensely, his knuckles turning white. In the past week, he’d made no progress whatsoever. Amy refused everything, merely going through the daily rituals for the sake of it.

                Amy watched her own hands in her lap, calm and relaxed.

                When Matthew spoke, moments later, he tried to do so in a calm manner. “Amy, you need to eat something. You can’t keep going on like this.”

                Amy glared at Matthew, leaning forward and speaking very slowly. “Then let me die.”

                Matthew slammed his fist down again and stood up from the table, raising his hands in the air in frustration.

                “This is ridiculous, Amy – YOU’RE NOT A CHILD! GROW UP!

                Amy stood, and from the opposite end of the table, shouted back. It was the first time she’d actually spoken – defended herself – rather than the emotional small talk of the past week.

                “So, what? I’m not allowed to be hurting?”

                “Of course you’re allowed to be hurting, Amy – I’m hurting, too – but this suicide mission of yours is ridiculous!”

                “I KILLED OUR FUCKING BABY!” she screamed. “I need to die for justice.”

                “Amy, listen to me very carefully – you did not murder the baby. Accidents happen-”

                “You have no idea what you’re talking about! You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone you love to death. You have no idea!” Amy began to cry at that very moment.

                Matthew clenched his fists on the back of the dining chair and hung his head, not looking at Amy. “I do know what it feels like – because I’m losing her right now.” His voice was softer, gentler; heartbroken.

                “Do you remember what happened last year?” Matthew asked after a moment’s silence. “On November fifteenth?”

                Amy looked up, wiped her eyes, and nodded slowly.

                Matthew spoke slowly in attempt to hide the sadness in his voice. “You married me. You – you vowed to love me and to honour me in both sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part. And you’re not doing that.

                “I know that I’ve already failed you!” Amy retorted. “I killed your baby!”

                “Amy,” Matthew said quickly, “I’m not talking about the miscarriage. I’m talking about what happened after the miscarriage. You stopped loving me. You thought only about yourself, and gave no consideration to what I was feeling. You were selfish.”

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