Broken Strings

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T W O

"You were enough
maybe you were too much
maybe he prefers less
and you deserve more."

- r. h. Sin

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Andrew's hands traced the scars on her hand. He didn't say a single word but instead stared as small teardrops fell from his face onto her hands, covering the razor marks she'd made on her wrists.

For the first time, Andrew Hayes showed emotion. He was nothing more than a weak man, a vulnerable man who just didn't have it in him anymore. It was something he hid well. But all of a sudden, everything came down. Crashing down, for him.

His mistakes had caught up to him.

"I'm sorry." His voice quavered. Andrew Hayes had fucked up. Everything was slipping out of his grasp. "God Anisha, I'm fucking sorry."

Anisha was the only one he had. Anisha had saved him. She had always saved him.

But he didn't know how to save her. He was the one who'd drowned her. He sure as hell didn't know how to save her.

He didn't know how to save her. Just like he hadn't been able to save his sister. Because he was a failure, a fuck-up. He'd always let down the people who'd loved him. Always.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

Everything was getting to him, again. The façade of a strong and powerful man was chipping away. Underneath, was the reality of Andrew Hayes - a man suffering with pain and heartbreak.

He closed his eyes. Everything was turning into a dull gray, the same gray that had shadowed Anisha for some time now.

Andrew Hayes was losing everything he had. He'd be without anything if he lost her. He'd have absolutely nothing.

And he was afraid, he had already lost.

Anisha pulled her hand away, staring at his conflicted face as Andrew fought his own demons.

The truth was on her lips. The truth about Cassie. The truth about Sebastian. The truth about herself.

The truth that she ill, very ill. And she wasn't going to get better.

But she just couldn't. She wasn't ready. She wanted to sleep, instead. It seemed that was all she was left to do.

She watched as he zoned out, mumbling a sorry every few seconds as he tried to block out the words, the events, the people, the pain that seemed to ruin him.

Anisha stayed, for years. She still hadn't been able to save him. Better than anyone, she knew how broken he was. But she just wanted him to understand that she hadn't given up on him. That's all she'd been able to offer.

Even though no one had helped her, with her pain, her sorrow, her depression. She'd stayed. She'd stayed and she'd helped him. Hoping, that at least, he'd understand that she cared. She cared enough to stay and try. Always.

She didn't leave when things had gotten hard.

Maybe she should've. But she hadn't.

Now, her truth was her way of giving up. She just couldn't anymore. She really couldn't.

She prayed it wouldn't push him further. She prayed it wouldn't hurt him any more than he already was. She didn't want to break his heart any more than she already had.

She winced and slowly moved. The pain in her stomach reappeared. It was a constant reminder of the ending that was slowly nearing closer.

She just wanted to go back to bed. This emotion, his love, just all of it was draining.