Mr. Whoever You Are

Chapter 15

Tim POV: 

Audrey McGraw... Faith would hate me for naming Audrey after her, but I find it fitting. She always said she'd name our son after me if one ever came along. The first month was rocky. Her lungs weren't fully developed, and things just seemed to be falling apart early. Now she's doing pretty good, but still incubated. 

Faith has a small window left to wake up. I sit by her bedside, and pop some of the pills they gave me for my pains from the car accident. I never used them, so now I have a ton leftover, giving me something to numb myself during this. This is going to hurt like hell. 

Paul walks in the room and sits down beside me, taking a deep breath as he does so. He rubs the back of his head slowly, before spotting the pill bottle as I slip it back into my pocket. 

"That better be prescribed..." He warns. I roll my eyes at him, before nodding. "I swear, if you get into that drug abuse shit, I quit." He huffs, looking at Faith and sighing. "How's she doing today?" He asks, studying her closely. I shrug, and stare down at my hands. 

"She's going to die, Paul, and it's going to tear me apart." I release, my stomach burning. Paul winces, and looks down at my knees, before rubbing my back. 

"It'll be hard, but you'll get past it eventually. You have to. I mean, you can't leave the girls now, especially with little Audrey." He runs on, leading me to nod in agreement. God, that's going to suck. I just want to shrivel up in a ball, but the girls... they still need me to be dad... 

"It makes me sick... She never got a damn break. Her whole life she's fighting... I told her that I'd fight for her, and that I would never let anything happen, but here we are... Her own fucking step-father... It's disgusting..." I ramble, feeling out of breath. I begin to feel the pills kicking in, easing me a bit, as Paul tries to comfort me. 

"It's not fair. There was nothing you could've done though, and you know that." He says, making me want to gag. People always say that, but it's never true. I could've not hesitated... I could gotten up and protected her like I told her I would... "What's their problem with you two anyways?" Paul asks, causing me to cringe. 

"Brad loved Faith, and Frank thought she was a slut, so he'd try to shame her to make me see his side." I explain, my stomach churning. I bite my lip, as I watch her, remembering all the abuse she's endured. "I thought I could just shelter her from it, and give her that normal life that she wanted... but I just couldn't." I release, feeling limp. Paul stares, exhausted himself. 

"Why don't you head home? You seem like you could use a shower and some sleep. I'll stay here if you want." He suggests, causing me to sigh. I nod slowly, and stand up, before kissing Faith on the forehead. 

"Love you baby..." I whisper quietly, before grabbing my bag and heading out. 

In my dreams, Faith is dancing around the kitchen, about bursting with Maggie while Gracie stumbles around, trying to get onto her feet. She wears an oversized sweatshirt, and a pair of my boxers, while her blond hair hangs down to her shoulders, naturally curly. She wears no makeup, appearing to have just woken up, as she scrambles eggs in a pan, while singing along to demos playing in the boombox. 

"I got my baby... I got those good times... No lack of sunshine... Baby I got you..." She belts, swaying her hips, as she steps away from the stove and looks over to Gracie and I. Her green eyes sparkle, as she smiles brightly. She bites her lip, blushing as she notices that I've been watching her. "What are you staring at?" She laughs, scooping the eggs onto plates. Everything about this just seems surreal. Seeing her smiling like this... It's all so... I don't know... I miss it. 

I wake up, chest pumping, and gasping for air. My fists are clenched so tightly, I can't unravel them. I wheeze loudly, my body hurting for being tensed up. I reach desperately into the nightstand and grab the bottle of painkillers. I throw a handful in my mouth, and lie back in bed, praying they'll kick in soon. 

Once they begin to take effect, I walk into the bathroom and throw some water on my face. My eyes are bloodshot, while I'm breaking out in a cold sweat. I walk into her closet, remembering our conversation we had just hours before the accident. I stand awkwardly, trying to remember exactly what she said. She said she'd find my old sweatshirts because they'd smell like me... What's something that would smell like her? Most of the time she's wearing my sweatshirts... I slowly sift through her clothes, her yellow sundress catching my eye. She'd alway find excuses to wear it, simply because it was yellow. She always had a thing for yellow... 

I take it off the hanger, and hug it, before smelling the fabric. Tears emerge in my eyes as I understand what she means... It smells just like her... 

I sit down on the floor, and hold it against my chest, as I come undone.