11 for the writing prompts
“You’re a monster.”
Took forever to answer and think about. Hope it is okay. I live for iwtb era angst. Tagging @today-in-fic .
I did not remember when it happened. It had been so long. I thought we were getting better. I honestly allowed myself to believe that. We were better. After our trip to St. Martin, there was a little light come back into our lives.
I told him I was going to be late from the hospital that night. I left him a voicemail. I texted him twice, even though I knew he doesn’t use his phone like that. I debated emailing him as well, just to cover my basis, short using carrier pigeons or a messenger. Who am I kidding? He would probably shoot the messenger on sight in lieu of the old age adage of “Trust no one.”
Shit. I barely wondered if he trusted me anymore.
I’ve been down this road before. You remember me telling you about Diana Fowley?
I know it’s been years ago but the hurt is still there. I never want to feel like that again. It was beginning to feel like that again before the FBI came knocking on our door, asking for his help in exchange for his freedom.
It’s been a month and what has that gotten me? Nothing. I feel like he keeps himself locked back up in that corner office even more now. Hell, the beard is coming back. I’m sick of the fucking beard.
I thought things would be different. We could build an actual life together. Both of our names on the house and on the car. I know I haven’t talked about marriage, but maybe he would ask the question again and I would say yes. I will say yes. I’m tired of being life partners. I want to get married. File a joint tax return. Get a golden lab and he can build that white picket fence. Actually being normal and happy.
But no. I haven’t felt this alone in a long time.