Until I Really Do

Chapter Thirty Three

"Get out!" The words barely formed on his lips, rage racking through his body as he staggered to his feet and turned from his father.

"Matthew?"

He heard his father's voice, just as a hand took hold of his forearm, pulling him to an abrupt halt.

Turning swiftly around with rage, he grabbed two fistfuls of his father's lapels and yanked, lifting him off of the floor until his feet dangled in the air.

"Matthew, Please!"  Someone called frantically in the room. It was most likely his mother, but Matthew couldn't turn to acknowledge her. He could do nothing but stand there, his fists tightening their grip on his father as rage pumped violently through his veins until he trembled with it.

“Matthew! Stop, please!” She begged, forcing him to relent.

Glaring up at his father one more time, he saw for the first time how vulnerable he really was as fear clouded his eyes.

He released his grip on him, stepping back as he fell to the ground.

"Get out of my house. Leave my property." He managed to speak past his rage.

"Matthew, surely you don't mean it."

He turned to face his mother, his eyes burning with unshed angry tears. "If I return to find him here, Mama, I just might commit a felony. Take your husband and leave my property." He hissed before yanking door wide open and walking out. He slammed it shut behind him and made his way down the stairs.

Not knowing exactly where it was he was going, he knew he had to get away; it was a need —a burning, undeniable need to run as far as his legs could take him. He needed to run from the insanity that was his life, from the cruelty that was his family, and from the terror that was his love for Sharon.

But his legs didn't seem capable of running fast enough. He stumbled over nothing as he struggled to go down the stairs. Every turn he took was an excruciating reminder of Sharon's betrayal. And to think she had done this on the day of their wedding! The thought of it nearly made his laugh; the day of their wedding, of all days! She had chosen to connive with his father to run away in exchange for a few hundred dollars.

Money!

It was all for money! She married him for his money and the second she realized he didn't really have any, she gave up their marriage for money. Wasn't that the exact reason Gretchen turned down his proposal? Only Sharon was so much more ruthless than Gretchen. Leaving him at the altar was worse.

Everything felt like a lie— Sharon, their love, their marriage, the joke of a wedding, everything! And he was the fool that felt for her lies. He was a fool to have thought that the daughter of a drunken gambler could be less of an opportunist.

Stumbling through the kitchen, he had reached the back door when a firm hand clasped around his wrist, stopping him.

"Matthew?" Nana Lois called, concern lacing her tone. "You can't let her go." She said.

Letting out a mirthless laugh, he turned to her. "She's gone. Good riddance, Nana. Now, if you would excuse me," he yanked his arm free and turned to leave.

"Matthew!" She yelled, her frantic voice stopping him. "You can't let Sharon go!"

"Why is that, Nana?" He turned back around, angry, but especially exhausted. For some reason that was beyond him, Matthew suddenly felt the overwhelming need to cry.

And he did.

Stumbling forward, he fell into her arms and gave in to his grief.

“Matthew,” she whispered gently, her hands moving up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You can't let Sharon go.”

"Why?" He managed. He needed an explanation; he needed to know why a woman he trusted and loved more than anything on earth would leave him.

"She's pregnant, Matthew."

~*~

Sharon stood nervously in the station, frightened and confused. Several hours had passed since she ran away from her own wedding, and she was still stuck at the station, unable to decide where to go after having received the disconcerting news that the only stage heading to Centerville would depart the following day.

She considered sitting and waiting until the next morning. Perhaps she could even sleep on a bench in the station? It didn't appear safe to her, but she knew she didn't have a choice; she could not go home to Matthew, neither could she go back to her father. Both options were not truly options because the first was sure to reject her and the last was most likely somewhere gambling his soul to Satan.

Matthew must know of her decision by now. She shook her head, scolding herself for allowing the thought of him into her mind. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but to think that her decision could hurt him; perhaps she just wanted desperately to believe it would. She wanted to believe he would miss her enough to try to find her; to try to bring her home and perhaps even apologize. But with every second that ticked by, she knew she was holding on to a bleak hope.

Glancing up at the grey clouds, she turned to tie the horse to a lamp post, before settling on the bench. Once it was morning and the stage arrived, she would pay the man to add her horse to his stage.

She straightened her legs and laid flat on the bench. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself while trying her best to get as comfortable as was humanly possible on a wooden bench.

She must have fallen asleep because she was jolted awake by the feeling of something moving underneath her.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, her eyes traveled her surroundings, a loud gasp drifting from her lips as realization settled in the depths of her stomach.

Copyright © 2016-2020 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.

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