No Exceptions

Nine

I continued my purposeful gait, with no actual location in mind. The events that had just transpired felt like an out-of-body experience. Did I really just get away with that?

It seemed that for whatever reason the power-tripper enjoyed my defiant display. The illusion of a prize to be earned and not yet given played into my advantage. My heart raced at the idea of engaging in this to and fro, aware of the massive handicap I'd have to work with. He's been playing at it for a lot longer than I have. My hands swayed at my sides as I revelled in my small victory.

Yet, as I hit the more populated Atrium of Sanctuary, my confidence waned. Every single person that crossed my path stopped and gawked at me, as my lack of decent attire displayed a lot more than I intended. There were hushed whispers shared between saviors, giggles and slack jaws that fed into my insecurity.

I felt like a circus sideshow. And for what?

I made a left turn into the first available door: a storage room. My floodgates broke, and I let the powerful sobs shake me, tears gushing down my cheeks like a waterfall. I shuffled back to the cold, unforgiving wall and slid down, curling into myself. As soon as I closed my eyes, all I could see was my poor tortured Daryl.  He'd saved my life more times than I can count, and when it was finally my turn to return the favour, I play house with another man.

How is playing this part going to really help Daryl?

The tremors began in my fingertips. I tried to hold my breath, but it just aided in the jerking body movement to travel all over my body. In that little, dingy space I knew I had to face facts: I was completely overwhelmed. The weight of my poor choices and their consequences on others sat on my chest, like a house. Now I know how the wicked witch felt.  I fell deeper and deeper into desolation, unable to come up for air.

tap, tap.

"Rackel? Sweety?"

I didn't recognise the voice, but responded anyway, "y,y,yes?"

The door cracked open and in popped the head of one of his wives. Her warm, chestnut eyes would've been of great comfort to me, if I wasn't already past it. The already crushing guilt increased as I watched her smile turn into a concerned grimace. I'm sure I would've looked like one of those creepy, novelty monkey toys, my whole form still shaking and my lips puckered like a baboon's backside. 

The mouse-brown haired woman quickly entered and shut the door. "I'm sorry! Skye said she saw you come in here looking upset and thought you'd like to talk to someone." I had to admit, even when she sat down next to me and rubbed my back, it all felt genuine. I don't know why, but there was something about this woman that provided me with a sense of ease. 

Frustratingly rubbing at my eyes, I nodded. 

 "I'm Sherry sweetie, and I know how hard it is to do this." Her voice was so warm and rich. Hearing her Georgian twang made my heart ache. But it was the way that she said sweetie that really got to me. She said it like Nonna Jean. 

I tried desperately to clear my throat, but it ended up still coming out gravely, "what do you mean?"

The wife paused, lines forming between her eyebrows as she thought about what she was going to tell me. "Let's just say I know how it feels for someone you love to pay for your own sins."

Holy shit, news travels fast in this place. I tapped my feet and tried my best to avoid eye contact. Although it was selfishly comforting to know that I wasn't the only one to have stuffed up royally, I didn't want to think about ... him. The chill radiating from the piping above us started my trembling all over again.