It didn’t enter my mind to think that she was lying, that this was all some elaborate scheme whose purpose I don’t yet know; that could be the other option. But why go to these lengths? The only other alternative is that some other man had put those marks all over her body while fucking her, and that is a truth I don’t think I could bear. So now I find myself clinging to the fanciful story of past lives and loves coming back to live out at least part of their existence through us.
From the way Ellie and the old lady both spoke, it’s as if I was the last holdout, the only one left in the dark while those three planned and schemed. I should be pissed about that, I guess, but I just didn’t have it in me; I didn’t have the strength for this fight where I didn’t yet know all the rules. Not after the last year of anger and now losing grandpa so suddenly without the chance to say a proper goodbye or to make things right between us.
If I took things at face value, I guess I can understand why they’d done it. I, too, am a sucker for love, apparently, and if I said grandpa’s story didn’t pull at my heartstrings, I’d be lying. When I watch her sleep as I’m doing now, the thought of never knowing this with her, of never having her next to me, leaves me cold and damn near drives me insane if I dwell on it too long.
How then can I begrudge those two their chance to have that, as unconventional as this situation is? I’m still a bit squeamish at the idea of our bodies being used and not fully understanding when or how it happens. My only understanding is that we’re in control, Ellie and I and that it’s up to us if we allow this to continue.
She seems fine with it if the restful sleep she’s enjoying while I lay awake pondering this mess is anything to go by. Maybe because she’s had more time to deal with it than I have, when the rain lets up, and I get her out of here, I’ll hunt down the old lady who started this whole thing and get the story from her again. My mind had been too preoccupied before, especially after learning that Ellie was gone, to truly grasp it all.
I can think about that now, the way I felt, the rush of fear and loss that weakened me for those first few seconds when I thought that I’d lost her. That alone is enough for me to know and accept that come what may, I won’t let her go; I can’t. We’d lost a lot of time already, mostly because of me, time I now have to make up for and was looking forward to gladly.
She’s been through so much and has been made to carry such a heavy burden on her own while I continued my campaign of terror against her due to my mistaken beliefs. I owe her; there are no two ways about it, and I will pay with interest for the rest of my days. As to the other two, I guess once I get the whole story and understand a little more, I can better make a decision. As it stands, I don’t see any way out of it or any reason why I should put an end to it.
I pulled her in a little closer and rested my hand on her tummy, where they say my child lays. She shifted, getting even closer, and I relaxed once I realized that I hadn’t awakened her. She needed her rest after the night I’d put her through in my need to stake my claim. Her soft murmurs were like arrows to my heart, each one burying her deeper there until it finally opened up completely and let her in all the way.
I didn’t feel burdened or less than I was a minute ago. I didn’t feel like I’d lost any significant part of myself; in fact, I felt stronger somehow, like the one thing that was missing had been finally found. My thoughts were filled only with her and the child; nothing else mattered as I laid awake in the dark with the rain now down to a drizzle outside as it beat against the windows.
I wondered whether this new calm that came over me was of me or something else but decided as my eyes finally drooped that it didn’t really matter.
ELLIE
I woke with a start, my heart racing with fear until I felt his warmth beneath my cheek. I’d been afraid, so afraid that it was all just a dream. I cuddled closer, torn between wanting to hold out, to make him suffer for the way he’d been, and needing to be close. As angry as I’d been, as hurt as I was when I left, my heart wasn’t in it. I’m just not the sort, I guess, to hold a grudge.