- Text Size +
Something had fundamentally changed, Leighanne knew, although she couldn’t exactly tell why or how or even what had changed.

His eyes were different.

And she couldn’t put her finger on it, but it scared her to her very core. There were things that seemed very off about him; even more than usual. He didn’t talk much anymore, went on long walks with his dog, and she now always found herself wake up alone in the morning, with her husband nowhere in sight.

And Leighanne became scared.

Not necessarily of him, but of what was happening to him. She’d noticed that the pills he was supposed to take were still lying untouched in the bathroom and when she confronted him about that, he’d just shrugged, claiming that he felt so much better and didn’t need them anymore.

He said he finally could think clearly now, that he didn’t take those damn drugs. And Leighanne had told him in no uncertain terms that she was going to call the hospital if he refused to take them and he’d become angry and said she didn’t know what she was talking about, and how could she ever understand? How could she know what it felt like?

He was getting better, he promised, finally, he said.

And she believed it was quite the opposite. Cause he seemed so agitated and riled up. He’d snap at everything; her, his dog, his friends. He’d say he was fine and that they should worry about their own business and one night, she’d grabbed his wrists and begged him, with tears streaming down her face to please, please listen to her and stop this nonsense.

And he listened.

And he cried too. But he still didn’t tell her what had happened. And Leighanne felt him pulling away from her and from everybody. His agony was clear, his nightmares vivid and extreme and Leighanne felt helpless, watching from a distance how he seemed to wither away, depression taking a tight hold of him and not letting go no matter what. His mind slipped into a frantic state, his answers typically short and his eyes always on watch.

And one night, she awoke with a start, the place next to her as empty as ever. She’d heard the kitchen drawer close with a slam and her heart was pounding in her chest. Before she knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, and felt like she was floating down the stairs in a haze, a surreal sort of nightmare that had her heart racing and fear clamping down on her throat.

“Oh no,” she whimpered when the strong scent of alcohol hit her nose. She started to sob, almost unable to breathe as she slowly and reluctantly got closer to the kitchen.

“Please...” she whispered, opening the door tentatively.

His shirt was lying in a heap on the kitchen floor, carelessly thrown away and her eyes travelled further towards his huddled form sitting against the counter cabinets on the floor, a half-empty bottle of wodka in one hand and a glinting kitchen knife in the other.

She gasped, fear threatening to suffocate her, but she rushed towards him nevertheless. He seemed totally unaware of her presence, his head between his knees and his breathing coming in quick gasps.

“No no no no,” Leighanne cried, taking his face in her hands. His eyes were dazed with the drunken stupor she could also smell on his breath. A shock travelled through him at the sound of her voice and he scrambled back into the counter. The knife fell out of his fingers and after a quick inspection, Leighanne breathed again when she didn’t find any damage that was done with the blade. He was shaking violently, his upper body completely bare and Leighanne felt her stomach turn when she looked at all the scars that were scattered on his whole body.

“I-I’m sorry,” he choked, his eyes wild and his voice hoarse and gruff.

She took his head in her hands and pulled him close, holding him so tightly that she wondered if she could ever let him go. He cried in her embrace, long, anguished wails that were frightening her more than anything ever could. She kept silent as she held him as he cried Thomas’ name over and over again and she knew.

He remembered everything.