Storyteller

Chapter 9

Tim POV: 

I've been lying awake for a good six hours, thinking about the way she looked at me... She hasn't looked at me like that for years... I mean, she's never looked that naive to the world before. 

But it'd be wrong of me to take advantage of her forgetting all these years. She deserves to know, and I plan to tell her. I just don't know how quite yet. 

She miscarried three times. I remember refusing to even touch her after that third time, because of how much pain it caused her. I remember storming out, going to a bar, then coming home to find her curled up in the corner of the spare bedroom we had set up as a nursery with a half empty bottle of wine. She had already finished off one bottle when I found her. 

I remember scooping her up in my arms, putting her in bed, and tucking her in, all while thinking about how absolutely stunning she looked. I, at the time, thought it was wrong to think about how beautiful she was as mascara ran down her cheeks, but now I understand. I curled up beside her, and sang our song to her, squeezing her as tight as I could. 

She had been seven months pregnant... 

I miss being that source of comfort to her. I just keep thinking about those last words she said to me... She was right, and I know that I don't deserve her. She should go somewhere where she can be happy and safe. I don't want to be that cause of fear in her eyes again. 

I jump, as I hear a pounding coming from the door downstairs. I peel my worn bones away from the plush mattress, and head down to answer it. 

When I open the door, Faith stands there, trembling in the pouring rain. I wish I could say this was the first time I've ever found her at my door like this, but it's not. She's crying, as she slowly walks in past me, soaked. 

"What's wrong?" I ask, feeling my heart start to pound with a form of shock. 

"You hurt me..." She cries out, causing my chest to tighten. "I saw it on a newspaper. Chris tried to explain it, and your manager did too, but I want to hear it from you." She says, sitting down on the couch. I grab her a blanket, and wrap it around her shoulders, trying to dry her off. I take a deep breath, not exactly having been prepared for this. 

"I just got too drunk, honey... That's the only time I ever hurt you, was when I drank far too much." I explain. She nods slowly. 

"Did you do this to me?" She sobs, placing her finger against the wound. I stare at it for a moment, before nodding slowly. She covers her mouth and cries harder. "Why?" She cries. I bite my lip and think about it. 

"I was drunk, and angry. And you were angry, and it was just a horrible mix, honey." I admit, preparing to see disappointment in her eyes. She hugs herself, and presses her chin tightly against her chest, like she always used to. Tears run down her cheeks and fall onto her arms as she holds completely still, breathing deeply. "Faith?" I call out. She looks up, and rubs the back of her neck. 

"You swore you'd never..." She says slowly, biting her lip. She looks away from me, and hugs herself again. 

"I know I did... You have to know how much it kills me to know how I've hurt you." I confess, watching how odd she's acting compared to the girl who was here weeks ago. Her tears are falling slower now, as she falls still and silent. She looks up at me with those green eyes that can bring me to my knees. 

She rushes over to me, practically running, and embraces me, before laying her lips on mine. I freeze in complete shock, as her arms tremble around me. She places her hand under my jaw, and kisses me harder, as if she really meant it. Her nails softly glide across my rough skin up behind my ear, as she tilts my head down toward her. She hasn't touched me like this in a long time... Normally her touch comes from a place of fear and pity, not desire...