He saw her relax, and she stopped convulsing. A soft smile appeared on her face.
She was dreaming. But it wasn't pleasant. The smile disappeared - it had been there only because the seizure had ended.
She walked into the house late at night, around 11: 30. Work had held her up.
Entering the kitchen she stopped cold. Glass alcohol bottles were scattered all over the table, some upright, some on their sides. An upright one was half filled, one that was on its side, leaking.
She ran upstairs to the bedroom and let out a strangled cry.
He was dead.
She collapsed, crying and screaming. She didn't care if she was acting like a 3 year old. There was a freaking gun by his body and blood all over the floor.
It was because of her, she just knew it.
She fought to escape the dream. She had to know if he'd actually killed himself. But no matter how hard she wrestled with reality, the dream still held her in its grasp.
Suddenly she won and woke up with a gasp. She was sweating. Looking around she saw Genaro and the first words out of her mouth were, "Thank God." In fact, she began crying tears of happiness she was so relieved.
"What is it?" Genaro asked.
"I dreamt -" she was having a hard time forcing the words out. "I got home late from work and I went into the kitchen - alcohol bottles all over the table - I ran upstairs and you -" she took a shaky breath, "You were - dead - I..."
"It's okay," he whispered. "I will never leave you. I will freaking die for you if I have to. I love you just the way you are. If you want a child then maldita sea we're going to make it happen."
"I love you," she whispered. "I want to try but -"
"Relax," he said, hugging her. "Get some sleep, love, and then we'll figure it all out."