Perfect Redemption

Thirty: In Which She Loves Him Goodbye

    I can't breathe

    You don't deserve redemption.

    And you never will.

    I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe. I'm taking in deep lungfuls of air but nothing goes in. The water continues to drown me, drown me and I'm drowning... drowning...

    "Blaire?" I hear the bathroom door burst open and the shower curtains pushes to the side.

    "Go away," I say weakly. "Go away."

    "Shit," Jax curses under his breath as he steps in. "Blaire..."

    He tries to help me up but I swat his hands away. "Get away from me," I moan.

    "No." He crouches down so he's on eye level with me. He's still fully clothed and I want to tell him to get out so he won't be impaled by the water but he's already soaked and I expect him to care but he doesn't care at all. He doesn't give up. He reaches forward to stroke my hair and my cheek and my lips and his other hand tries to heave me up but I'm stubborn and I won't budge.

    "Please..." I croak, scurrying away from him. "Please, Jackson. Go away!"

    "No!" He yells, something flaring in his eyes. "No, Blaire. I can't leave you like this. I can't." I can hear the absolute pain in his voice when he says those words.  "Please, Blaire." He whispers. "Please let me help you. I don't know what else to do."

    I don't say anything. I hold his gaze, and gulp when I see how much my agony has given him agony. Suddenly, I feel guilty for having shouted at him. I know that he only wants to help me. But don't know whether he can.

    I'm destroyed after what happened today.

    "Blaire..." he says, barely a whisper. "Let me help you. Please."

    Eventually, I nod meekly and he stands up to turn off the faucet to shut the water. I allow myself to take a deep breath as he crouches again, this time to help me up. He slings one of his arms under my legs and another supporting my back, then carries me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. He places me on my feet and I stand there wordlessly as he disappears into the bathroom again and then materialize with a towel in hand.

    I don't say anything as he takes his time to dry me off with the towel. Every drop of water he takes back and every drop of water I let him. My eyes never leave him when he chucks the towel aside when he's done and scours through my closet for my clothing. I let him help me slide into my top and my shorts and as much as that should help me feel better, I've never felt more vulnerable.

    He strokes the wet strands of my hair and he cradles my face in his hands so delicately and so softly like he's carrying the world in his hands. "Talk to me," he says. "Please, talk to me."

    "I'm a coward."

    The second those words come out from my mouth, all of my guilt I bare exposed for him to see.

    "I'm a coward," I repeat again, looking down, ashamed. "I ran from those cops even though I know damn well that I should have let them handcuff me and arrest me for all the shit that I've done. God knows I've deserved it."

    "No, you don't." He shakes his head. "You don't deserve any of this."

    "Yes, Jackson. I do." I pry his hands away from my face and I sit at the edge of my bed, hands placed flat against my thighs. "I've done nothing but be selfish these past few months. I take and I take and I take and I didn't even realize that what I was doing was so wrong. Ben tried to warn me countless of times but I just didn't want to listen. And look where that got him? He's going to jail, Jackson. He's going to jail and I'm here and it isn't fucking fair."