Page 45 of Darkened Promises

There’s no anger, no venom or even bitterness in her tone.

How can she have forgiven me when I can’t forgive myself?

My stomach roils, churning with acidic vengeance, skin heating to a thick boil.

Jamming my fingers into my temples, I squeeze as agitation flows through me. She needs to be angry. Why doesn’t she hate me?

“You need to be angry,” I snap pointedly.

I need her anger.

Just feeling mine isn’t enough. It’s not enough of a punishment to only hate myself. I need hers too.

“I am angry, but not at you,” she growls, annoyance creeping into her tone finally. It’s still not the response I need.

My mouth opens to say something, something provoking to spark a reaction. But I snap it shut, holding back the cruel words that would most likely hurt her more. Because I can’t, not when she’s looking at me with so much care and understanding. Even with this, I’m doing it wrong. I should be the one looking at her like that, holding her, loving her.

The seconds pass between us. Whether it’s five or thirty, I can’t tell, but all we do is stare at each other.

TWENTY-FIVE

ROSY

His eyes flash, burning brightly, and his jaw clenches, snapping shut as he refuses to say whatever he was about to.

My cheeks puff, blowing out the air held in my lungs whilst I wait for him to say something. Finally, I give up. “No, Max. You can’t shut down. Holding things in isn’t the way for us to communicate,” I implore, needing him to hear me.

We can’t keep avoiding each other or hiding what we’re feeling. It won’t work, and I’m too tired and raw to keep wondering as I fight the shiver that wants to wrack through my body.

I need his words. Without them, I can’t see how either of us can heal. Though perhaps I never will. I can’t see a way out of this dark, lonely hole. I didn’t dig it myself, so how can I be expected to know the route out? Traipsing around in the dark is exhausting.

After all the betrayal from before, the reservations that have hovered over us all…I deserve to be communicated with. It’s the only way, otherwise we’ll end up right back where we were before, and I don’t have the energy for that anymore.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is strained, the anger still there but mellowed slightly. His face is pale, mirroring my exhaustion.

“What you feel. I don’t want to be trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind, wondering what you’re thinking or feeling all the time. I’m too tired for that. I don’t have it in me to try to work it out anymore, so I just need you to be open,” I say wearily, wondering if it’s even worth the try.

“Why do you think you’re so exhausted in the first place? It’s because of me.” His eyes darken, and there’s no trace of the sunshine Maxi I know. There’s just so much anger, and it’s all twisted up inside him. Face puckering, he heaves another breath. “I didn’t fucking trust you. You were gone, and I turned my back on you.”

The twisted look on his face is cruel, but almost inwardly so. He may be shouting at me, but his words are directed at himself, and it cuts deep to see how vicious he’s being.

I asked him for his words, so I don’t try to interrupt them. I stand here with him, taking every verbal cut and slice. Because he needs this, and even if I can’t get myself out of this darkness, the least I can do is help him out of his.

I need my sunshine Max back. Perhaps then I might have a chance. Without him, I…

“You needed me, and I wasn’t even there. I was too busy being angry and hurt, too stuck in my own head to see anything else. You gave me no reason to doubt you. If it weren’t for my past hang ups, none of this would’ve happened. How can you even bear to look at me? Everything you’ve been through, I did to you. My actions led you to that, and I fucking hate myself for it.”

His knuckles are white, vibrating with anger as he brings one up to his chest and hammers against it, the sound thumping viciously on the black fabric of his T-shirt. “My. Fault. My. Fault,” he repeats over and over. His fist smacks against his sternum with every bitter, twisted word, and my heart breaks.

I wanted him to be open, to let me in, but I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of pain that he’s in. I may have thought I was the victim at his hands; it’s clearly so much more than that.

This is something we all need to somehow heal from, but I don’t know if it’s something we all can do. Seeing Max hurting, I know I’m not the only one stuck in this darkness. I need to try, not just for me, but for him, too.

I dart forward and grasp his fist before he can hit himself again, then duck beneath his arms and wrap myself around him, squeezing as tightly as I can. His heart beats so loudly and erratically against my cheek, and his chest heaves with every breath he drags in. He’s stiff, but his muscles tremble, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“It’s not your fault, Maxi,” I croak, trying to push strength that I don’t have into my words. I fiercely bite back the onslaught of tears burning in my eyes.

He scoffs, and it brushes the air across the top of my head. His arms remain stiff at his sides, and his fists clench and unclench.