Into the Storm

“I don’t want to use all your medication,” she replied quietly. ”You obviously need it as well.”


I nodded as I sat beside her. “I do. But I have enough. I don’t require them that often anymore.”

Rabbit was silent; I looked at her and saw her staring at me, her forehead furrowed in concentration.

“What?”

“You know a lot about pain,” she said simply.

I tensed slightly, but nodded.

“Your leg, was it an accident?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why?”

I pulled my hand through my hair. I was already struggling to remain calm after seeing all her injuries again. I couldn’t handle this conversation right now. “Because I just don’t, Rabbit. I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“I know that,” she murmured, her voice gentle. “I just thought …”

“What? You thought what?” I snapped.

“I thought maybe you’d like to talk about it.”

“Well, you thought wrong. Drop it.” I could hear the tightness in my voice.

“Sorry, I just thought since you didn’t have a lot of people to talk to …” her voice trailed off.

I stood up, my anger reaching its boiling point. “Why would you say that? You don’t know anything about my life. Fuck, at this point, you don’t know anything about your own life,” I hissed at her.

She stood up, tears glistening in her eyes. “That was unnecessarily cruel,” she whispered. “I just wanted to help.”

I stepped forward, my hands clenched tightly at my sides. “Well, there’s the point. I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t need your help. Unlike you, I’m not the one imposing on a stranger to take care of me.” I could feel the glare on my face as I spoke to her.

She backed away from me, shaking her head. The expression on her face had turned from confused and hurt to fearful. She turned suddenly and left the room, moving as quickly as she was able to. I heard the bedroom door close.

I spun on my heels and caught sight of my reflection in the window and stopped, aghast at what I saw. No wonder she backed away. I looked menacing even to my own eyes. My hands were clenched in fists and my face was a blank mask of anger. She probably thought I was … oh, fuck.

I sat down and dropped my head into my hands. I scared her. She thought I was going to hit her. I was sure of it. I was angry, but I would never do that. I shook my head as I pulled on my hair. She didn’t know that for sure though, did she? All she saw was someone towering over her in anger.

I groaned. She had finally relaxed enough at dinner to joke with me and actually eat. And now I had fucked it up by acting defensive and stupid. Just because she had asked me about my leg at the wrong moment. I stood and went into the hall, approaching the bedroom door. I listened, but didn’t hear any sounds on the other side. Bear was lying outside the door, eyeing me with distaste.

I put my hand on the door and knocked lightly. Not surprisingly, there was no answer.

“Rabbit? I’m sorry. I lost my temper. You’re safe, I promise. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Nothing. There was no response.

“I’m going downstairs. I’ll leave you alone. Bear is out here. You can open the door and let him in if you want, after I go.”

I waited, but there was only silence.

I patted Bear’s head. “Look after her, boy,” I said quietly. His answering snort let me know exactly what he thought about what had just transpired.

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