Grey Clouds On The Horizon

Mother, Forgive Me

"The last time she yelled at me my name foamed madly at her mouth. She said 'I don't know how to love anyone with my whole being' and immediately I felt so stupid and so small when I said 'Well I don't know how to not'. In a last stitch effort to get her to stay I told her 'I will be whoever you want me to be'. She said 'That is the problem.'" - Blythe Baird

Christian's POV

I sat by my wife's bedside that next morning, the first of which I'd embraced without the pounding ache of a hangover, and took in what my life had become. There Anastasia was, peaceful in her stillness and round with my child, yet it was the first time I'd truly sat beside her. My weeks of drunkenness were nothing short of abandonment and I wondered what type of courage it was going to take to tell her that. Then, there was my betrayal.

As I didn't hear from Taylor, I came to the logical conclusion that he was done working for the sorry excuse of a man that I so clearly was. He'd stood by me through my most difficult trials and it never occurred to me that he might be the final judge that determined the severity of my crimes. It was his silence that cemented the horror of who I was.

To say that I was a vile person was an understatement of the most obvious kind but the fact that I'd never felt lighter or more capable was a brutal reminder. Yet evidence of it was everywhere I looked.

Instead of letting the wilted flowers around the room drop crisp petals I found the will to pick them up and pretty the place for my wife.

When the doctors came to observe her condition, I asked the right questions and fulfilled my duties in making choices instead of just signing whatever was placed in front of me.

At meals, instead of just letting the nursing staff put the solution into her tube, I asked for lessons on doing so myself and to my surprise they were happy to oblige.

With the movement of the sun across the sky I got up seemingly every few minutes to adjust the blinds so, should Ana be aware at all, the sun wouldn't be too bright on her closed lids.

The pain that had been weighing me down had been lifted and I finally had the energy to be the man that Anastasia deserved. The absurd notion that putting my suffering into the world through bruises and blood down the back of Emilia's legs made me a better husband than I'd been in months was probably the most insane thing I'd ever heard. So it was, of course, the hardest truth to accept. Through that action, evil to its very core, enlightenment was mine. Decisions needed to be made and that I did. First, I was done trying to make Ana into someone that she wasn't. Hoisting my desires to own my wife like a fine rug, beaten to my satisfaction whenever I felt the home that was my soul needed freshening up, was no longer a dream I chose to hold. Anastasia had given me the ability to admit there was an existence outside my darkness but even the most wonderful woman in the world couldn't do the impossible. And changing the nature of a demon such as myself was one of those impossible things.

Yet she was my soulmate. In her pregnant belly, the one I didn't deserve her risking her life to bear, swam my son. A second chance at fatherhood after I'd murdered my first with sadistic lust. Ana was definitely the type to give second chances even if she didn't know it.

I gripped her hands in mine and leaned my head in on her fragile shoulder. "Anastasia, I'm sorry. I've done something terrible and I can't even confess to you what I did. I'm too ashamed." My chest ached with sobs I didn't deserve to release and I clung to the woman who made my life worth living. If Ana died, or I lost her in any way, I'd only be as far away from death as it took to load Leila's revolver I'd kept in my safe.

A knock at the door startled me. "Oh Christian." My mother cooed, coming over to pat my shoulder. Her comfort was with good intention but in a currency I could not accept. "What's going on, my baby boy?"