Spiralling Skywards: Fading (Contradictions, #2)(70)

I blinked rapidly a few times in succession to try to clear the blurriness of my vision, but I wished I hadn’t. I watched as my husband’s handsome face crumbled. I watched as tears sprung from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. I continued to watch as he sat forward in his chair, looked down at the floor, raked his hands through his hair, and then looked back up at me.

He cleared his throat before standing and leaning forward on the baseboard at the end of my bed. He cleared his throat once again and then rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. I took in his hair, which had flopped forward and was hanging over to one side, as well as the days’ worth of stubble on his jaw and chin. I looked at anything but the cold steely stare and his bloodshot eyes as he looked across at me.

“What did you do? What the fuck did you do, Sarah? Why, why would you . . .” His voice trailed off on a sob.

He again cleared his throat, and I knew that he wasn’t done yet. Why would he be? I was his wife and the mother of his children, he deserved answers, right?

“Me. Us. The boys. I don’t understand. Why, Sarah? Why would you want to leave us? How could you want to leave them? You of all people should understand what that would do, how that would feel.”

I said nothing. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I repeatedly licked my lips and attempted to swallow. My sore and parched throat wasn’t the reason for my silence, though. I said nothing because there would be no point. He hadn’t heard me for years, so why would he hear me now?

“My life, Sarah, every breath that I take, every beat of my heart. Every decision I make, consciously or unconsciously, is ultimately about you . . . for you, us, our boys. You’re my world, my reason for existing. I thought I was yours. I thought the boys and I were your world, but I obviously got that wrong.”

He stared at me for a few long moments, and I focused on the column of his throat as he swallowed hard.

“Why? Start talking, Sares, tell me why the fuck you would do something so selfish, so fucking spiteful, mean, and uncaring to our kids and me? Start fucking talking.”

A loud, raspy sob escaped me as I shook my head.

“Fucking tell me! Tell me why death was a better option than life with me? Start fucking talking,” he roared, but I just continued to sob and shake my head.

The blood pressure cuff tightened around my arm as the door to my room opened and a nurse came through it.

“Is there a problem?” she asked Liam before turning to me. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll let the doctor know.” She was already grabbing my notes from the end of the bed and jotting something down. “How’d you feel, can I get you anything?” she asked with a smile.

“A drink please,” I croaked out.

“Sure thing. I’ll go fetch you a jug of iced water and let the doctor know you’re conscious. Won’t be long.” She headed out of the room, her smile still in place.

My eyes slid back to Liam. He had both hands pushed deep into the front pockets of his jeans, forcing the fabric down low on his hips. There was a gap of about two inches before his plain white T-shirt started, and I could see the trail of hair that led down below the waistband of his jeans. I knew where that trail of hair started, and I was fully aware of the delights that were waiting where that trail of hair ended.

Liam Delaney was so fucking good-looking, and at one time, he worshipped the ground I walked on. Then, one day, he didn’t. He stopped seeing me. He stopped hearing me. It was like I no longer existed.

The door to my room opened again and the nurse walked back through, carrying a jug of water and a plastic cup with a straw in it.

She explained that the doctor would be in shortly, all while helping me to sit up and plumping my pillows behind me. She filled the cup with water and helped me to take a long sip through the straw. The whole time I was aware of Liam’s eyes on me—staring, hard, cold.

Nurse Judy, according to her badge, left the room and the silence hung heavy between Liam and me.

“Why’d you do it, Sares? I’m your husband, do you not think that I at least deserve an explanation?”

I took in a shaky breath and tried to arrange the words in my head. I knew that once I said them aloud, there would be no going back. The guilt and self-loathing that had held me captive and consumed me for the last six months crawled from my toes to my belly to my chest. It clawed its way from my insides out, until I was smothered, barely able to breathe.

The fog that I had been living in for the past few years made everyday life almost impossible, but after I did what I did six months ago, things just spiralled and spiralled until I was so far down the rabbit hole I couldn’t see a way back.

Then the dog happened. I killed the dog. It could’ve been one of my children. I put them in danger. It just confirmed things for me. I was no good. There was a reason people left me. And last night it all became clear, death became my only option.

“Why aren’t we enough? Why are me and the boys so inconsequential to you that you could do something like this?”

I let out another sob. I had no excuses and no energy, need, or desire to lie.

“I did it for you and the boys.” I told him, my voice sounding huskier than normal.

“What the fuck does that mean? How was it for us? We would never want you dead, you’re the centre of our universe,” he stated, matter of factly.

Oh, if only it were true. I shook my head in disagreement.