Driven

“Fuuuccckkk!” he repeats again, his eyes narrowing on my hand rubbing my shoulder. I can see him clench and unclench his fists as he realizes he’s hurt me somehow. I remain still as his eyes lower and his shoulders slouch. “Rylee—I—” he turns abruptly and grabs the back of his neck with his hand, pulling down. “Give me a fucking minute,” he mutters as he quickly strides into the bathroom.

I gather the sheets up to my chest and watch him leave, wanting to reach out to him and tell him things he doesn’t believe or want to hear about what just happened. I sit there in indecision of what to do next when I hear the unmistakable sound of Colton vomiting. A knife twists deep down in my gut, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting desperately to comfort him.

The toilet flushes followed by a muttered curse and then I hear the faucet turn on and the brushing of teeth. I rise from the bed, sliding Colton’s shirt on when I hear him sigh again with his favored curse of the morning. I enter the bathroom, needing to make sure he is okay. I know he notes my presence for he stops the hand towel in mid-motion to his face when he senses me. We stand there frozen momentarily as he focuses on the water running from the faucet. His angst is palpable and smothers the air between us. Colton scrubs the towel over his face and turns toward me.

When he drops the towel from his face, the eyes that stare back at me are not his. The ones I’ve come to love. They are dead. Cold. Devoid of emotion. The muscle in his jaw pulses and the cords in his neck strain as he works his throat.

“Colton…” His glazed green eyes glare intently on mine causing any more words I’d planned to say falter on my lips.

“Don’t, Rylee,” he warns. “You need to leave.” His command is flat. As lifeless as his eyes.

My heart lurches into my chest. What happened to him? What memory has reduced this vibrant, passionate man to nothing. “Colton,” I plead.

“Go, Rylee. I don’t want you here.”

My bottom lip trembles at his words for he can’t possibly mean them after the evening we’ve just shared. I saw the emotion in his eyes last night. Felt from his actions how he feels about me. But now … all I can do is stare at him, the man before me unrecognizable.

The pain and fear before when he awoke from his dream was so obvious that all I wanted to do was to comfort him. Now I’m not quite sure what to do. I take a step forward and I hear his teeth grind in reaction. I’ve worked with traumatized children but I am way out of my element here. I look down at my clasped hands and whisper brokenly, “I just want to help.”

“Get out!” he roars causing my head to snap up in time to see his dead eyes spark to life with unfiltered anger. “Get the fuck out, Rylee! I don’t want you here! Don’t need you here!”

I stand there frozen, his unprovoked anger immobilizing me. “You don’t mean that,” I stutter.

“Like hell I don’t!” he yells, the sound echoing off of the stone tiles and reverberating. Our eyes hold in silence as I process the hurt he’s spewing. In the back of my mind I know there’s a reason for this—for his actions—but my mind is so jumbled with the hurt and shock from his venom that I can’t rationally process anything. Colton takes a threatening step toward me and I just stare at him shaking my head. He throws the towel with a curse, the clatter of bottles it knocks over ricocheting around the pin-drop quiet bathroom. His eyes angle back toward mine as he clenches and unclenches his jaw. When he speaks, his voice is chillingly cruel. “I’ve fucked you, Rylee, and now I’m done with you! I told you that’s all I was good for, sweetheart…”

His brow creases momentarily as the tears that burn the back of my throat well in my eyes and spill over. The hurt from his callous words turning my stomach and wringing my heart. My head tells my legs to move—to leave—but my body doesn’t listen. When I just stand there, dumbfounded and shell-shocked, he grabs my bag from the bathroom counter and strides forward to shove it forcefully against my chest, propelling me backward through the door I had just entered. “Out!” he grates through gritted teeth, growling at me for good measure. His bare chest heaving. His pulse pounding in his temple. His fists clenched. “I’m bored with you already. Can’t you see that? You’ve served your purpose. A quick amusement to bide my time. Now I’m done. Get out!”

Blinded by tears, I fumble with my bag and run blindly down the stairs. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back as I descend. I race through the house, my heart lodged in my throat and my head an absolute mess. My chest hurts so bad that pain radiates in it as I drag in each labored breath. Thoughts elude me. Hurt engulfs me. Regret fills me for I thought what between us was so much more.

I burst through the front door and into the brightness of the early morning sun, but all I feel is the darkness in my heart. I stagger, drop my purse, and fall to my knees to retrieve it. I sit like that, staring at a beautiful morning, but seeing none of it.

Letting the tears wash over me.

Allowing the humiliation to consume me.

Feeling my heart break into two.

THE END