The Betrayal

His face was all she could see as she lay there, eyes closed. Closed because she was physically unable to open them. They were too swollen, bulging from the inside out with bruising. She was vaguely aware of the pain, a distant pain, dulled by painkillers, she supposed. Would she ever be able to see again except for what she kept seeing in her mind’s eye? It was always the same now what she saw behind closed eyes, ever since it happened, ever since he realized, saw her old lover leave the shed, then found her tidying up the faded rug and old duvet. His face, the horror on his face, followed by disbelief, followed by anger, all within split seconds. It was swiftly followed by intense blackness because he had started to attack her. She didn’t feel anything much except that she deserved it. The pain inside her head was blotting out the physical pain that she should have experienced under the furious blows of his fists.

Someone must have called an ambulance. Was it him? Where was he now? The strange thing was that she wanted him here. But if he had handed himself in, she did not suppose they would let him near her. Still she wanted him here.

She wondered for a moment where her old lover might be now. Had it all come out, been all over the papers as they had always feared it might be at some point? Only now it would be so much worse. Well, he was not here, just as he never could be, except in cyber space, in all the years they had known and loved on another. And she wasn’t expecting him any more. Too many complications. There always had been too many complications and his fears, huge fears, largely uncalled for fears in her view, but they had stopped arguing about that a long time ago.

She wished someone would come and talk to her. She was conscious, they knew she was, but assumed she could not talk because of her injuries, just as she could not open her eyes. They did not realize that this was only partly true. She was actually hiding inside her head, behind those swollen eyes. Hiding from herself, from the world looking at her and wanting explanations which she felt so unable to give to anyone. How could anyone be expected to understand what she had done? Anyone at all? She certainly did not expect it.
Still she wished someone would come and talk to her. She wanted to know about the children – where were they? Who was looking after them? What had they been told? She was praying inside her head that he had not handed himself in, was looking after them, being the friend and step Dad he had been to them for years now. But she realized that this was impossible. The police would have found too much evidence for that to be a possibility. What about his own son? His family? They would hate her forever. And she could not blame them.

The baby? Their baby that she was carrying – was she still, or had she lost it? Was that what he wanted – for her to loose their baby when he found out?
Suddenly she realized that she would have to talk to sort out what could be sorted out. For their children’s sake. Oh God. She did not believe there was one. Just her responsibility. Noone else to blame or turn to. Please someone come and talk to me, she thought, someone please treat me like a human being, however guilty, however unforgivably guilty. She knew she was and forever would be. She needed to know about the children. She so needed to know. And about him. Was this what it took for her to realize how much he meant to her? Oh God. His face. His face. Forever his face.

The Betrayal


Joined February 2008

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