Envious Desire

Axle’s POV

“I don’t give a fuck Shelly. She’s staying with me,” my nostrils flared with rage.

Flinging her arms in the air, “Axle, be reasonable. She can barely look at you.”

My fury skyrocketed at her words, “You can’t give her the care that I can,” banging on my chest like a neanderthal, in a childish attempt to prove something.

“What the hell does that mean?” Her face twists in confusion with eyes slicing.

“My time is flexible, for as long as she requires. A nurse will be provided around the clock.” Striding mere inches from her face, “Whatever her necessity... I CAN provide,” my patience is wearing thin.

Taking a step back she proceeds octaves lower, “Look, your need to contribute to her recovery is understandable. Especially, given the circumstances but is this what’s best for her?”

“Of course it’s what’s best for her,” I spew matter of factly.

“No Axle. I mean... being with you,” she whispers the last three words.

Taken aback by her comment, I allow a moment for her words to permeate my mind. I’ve been so engulfed about having her close, I have yet to ponder whether or not, if it is truly what is best for her. Given a moment to contemplate, taking all things into account, of course it is, being within my company is what she requires.

It’s essential she’s aware of my unyielding love for her. It’s exigent she’s made abundantly aware that I love her... unconditionally. She’s... everything to me. I need to make amends for everything that has transpired.

Huffing out a huge breath, “Look Shelly, I understand your concern but I can provide for her more than anyone else. You can reside at my home if need be but she must stay with me. I can’t... she can’t... it’s imperative for her to be within reach... please.” My eyes burn with desperation.

“Okay,” she huffs a defeated breath. “I’ll talk with her and see how she feels. How about we let her decide?”

Shutting my eyes, I nod in agreement with the tiniest part of me convinced, given her current state, she’ll be disinterested in residing with me. “Alright, but please... try to convince her. I need her, Shelly. I need to be there for her.”

With one quick nod, Shelly disappears, slowing my heartbeat with each second she’s departed.

Shelly reemerges after what seems like hours from the hospital room, strolling right up to me.

“She will stay with you,” her emerald eyes sparkle with triumph.

Eyes widening, “She will?”

“Yes,” nodding her head with a sweet smile.

“I... what did you say to her?”

“I just explained to her how you could provide everything I could not but if she needs me, AT ALL, you have to call me. Agreed?”

Giving a swift nod, “Of course.” My heart beats with acceleration in excitement. She desires to stay with me. Could she not hate me as I once thought?

Hours later her paperwork is finalized, prepared to abdicate this wretched place. Entering her room, my heart fractures each time I view the abuse she endured. The horrific pigments of plum, cobalt and canary highlight her beguiling face triggering my rage.

Our eyes meet, for the briefest of moments, simmering all the tension. She veers her emotional chestnut orbs to the pale, chalky blanket concealing her body.

I begin my approach when a voice captures my attention, “May I speak to you for a moment Mr. Cross?”

Twisting to face the doctor, I nod, stepping alongside her.

“First, she is in a very fragile state. Patience is required to care for her. She is suffering from PTSD. She will have trouble sleeping. Normal things you were used to will become a trigger for her. Allow her to dictate what’s acceptable and go at her pace. You need to give her time and space. I have also recommended therapy. This will help her regain control of what she feels like she has lost. There are prescriptions in the pharmacy for her to help sleep at night if need be. Do you have any questions?”

“Is there anything else that transpired besides what I can physically see?”

“You will have to discuss that with Ms. Knox. I will say... be patient. Allow her the capacity to filter through her emotions, unjudged. Here is some paperwork on PTSD, there is a support group, both for her and anyone who will be assisting her. Learning to cope with those experiencing PTSD is traumatic and learning the right strategies to manage what may occur is essential in her recovery.”

“Thank you Dr,” I grasp the papers tucking them in my pocket, reentering her room.

I gaze at her gathering her belongings, watching her mannerisms and how they’ve shifted. This has affected her in ways unknown to me but I vow to be there every step of the way to her recovery. I stride in to help with packing when Shelly cuts in front of me, halting my actions.

“Here you go Chlo. Give me a sec, I’ll return in a minute,” Shelly grants her a sweet smile with a head nod. Stalking towards me she grips my bicep tugging me towards the door.

Twisting to face me she releases my arm. “Look, if this is going to work you need to be careful how you approach her.”

“What do you mean, approach her?” My eyebrows unify at her words.

“You... you just need to be... easy.”

“What the hell does that mean? All I was attempting to do was help her pack,” frustration filters through my voice.

“You just—”

Unwilling to linger in the obsidian corners of obliviousness, “What happened to her Shelly? You can’t instruct me to pull back when all I was attempting was to assist her with packing, expecting me to understand your code.” I spew with rage creeping in my voice.

“It’s not my story to tell Axle. When she’s ready she’ll tell you but until then just please, keep your movements slow and just... be patient.”

What the fuck? Keep my movements slow? What the hell am I to make of this? Shutting my eyes, cognizant there’s more than meets the eye, I inhale a deep breath nodding my head in agreement.

Placing both her hands on my forearms, she speaks the words I’ve been dying to perform. “Okay, let’s go back inside and take our girl home.”

Hearing those words brought a quick surge of happiness. Home, our home, where she belongs, with me by her side. I hadn’t realized I stood in the hallway grinning at the idea of Chloe beside me like a love sick middle schooler when Shelly rolls Chloe out of the room.

“Can you please grab her bag?” Shelly inquires, triggering me to spring into action, complying with her request. Stampeding into her room, clutching her bag, storming to catch up to them by the elevator I catch my breath, standing just behind her when the torn skin of her bruised wrist triggers the organ below my ribcage to beat in my head.

Chloe’s head tilts in my direction. A sudden sprout of hope emerges, fizzling the beat thumping in my head just as her head swings in the opposite direction. Riding in the elevator, with each passing floor, a bit of hope dismisses from existence.

Arriving at the car, keeping in step with Shelly’s stride, I race to place her bag in the trunk, rushing back to her side. Reaching for her arm to assist her in the car, she releases an ear piercing scream, yanking herself from my grasp.

Flabbergasted, I peer into her eyes, they’re coated in absolute terror and panic. It tears at my heart conscious that my touch triggered such trepidation. Could she be afraid of me? What happened to her?

“Axle, I got it!” Shelly cuts between us grasping Chloe in her arms, kissing her head, palming her hair, whispering, ’It’s okay,” on repeat while my heart shatters.

Chloe’s POV

The ride to his home was unnervingly quiet. Shelly squeezed my hand in an attempt to reassure me but no words were spoken. I both appreciated and unwelcomed the silence. I caught a glimpse of his eyes searching for me as he drove us past the beautiful homes that resembled a murky blur. I’m assuming a side effect of the mountains of medication I was given.

Guilt consumes my thoughts replaying his helpful gesture, that I without a second thought, wailed in pure terror of. I hadn’t meant for that reaction to seize my body but it was an unprecedented touch.

Halting before his massive home, I stare at it as if for the first time. I was befuddled with the decision to reside with him during my recovery. Not craving to face him because of the loss of our child but there’s still a huge part of me that requires his presence regardless of my psychotic state.

Caught in the middle, I surmised cohabitation would be advantageous as I could stay within reach yet have the ability to disappear within the confines of his massive home.

Staring at the front door a twinge of sadness consumes me. I hadn’t imagined it would be this strenuous to return to the place where I once felt secure.

Shelly and I enter the home unhurried and with precaution, rolling over the walls once welcoming seem cold and distant. Brushing my hand over the kitchen counter, memories flood my mind.

Eyes lift in the direction of motion capturing Axle’s hopeful gaze. Tears threaten to spill, I seal my emotional eyes in a foolish attempt to hinder their escape. I pondered that I would never lay eyes on him again. I conceptualized I was going to d... I hadn’t considered I would have made it out alive.

Breathing and upright in his home again, my emotions are discombobulated. I hungered for his presence, to lay my eyes upon his face, his smile, hearing his voice. Is this all a hallucination?

Jolting at the feel of his hot flesh connecting with my arm, I capture his tortured grey hues.

“I’m sorry Chloe. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you hungry?”

I deliver a weak smile, eyes cast to the floor with a meek voice, “No. I want to take a shower.”

“Everything has been brought over. All of your belongings are in my bedroom.”

“Your bedroom?” I finally meet and keep our gaze.

“Yes, I ...” raising his tight fist to his mouth, his teeth sink into his index finger, imprinting. “I’m sorry Chloe I should have ... I ...”

With the slightest shake of my head, “It’s okay, I’ll just take what I need and stay in one of the guest bedrooms.” His face distorts in pain at my words but moves up and down in agreeance.

Causing pain is not my intention but I’m an emotional wreck at the moment. I have no concept how to proceed with everything that’s transpired over the last month. With no desire to experience anymore guilt I nod, turning on the balls of my feet, heading upstairs to gather my belongings.

Entering his room a flood of memories hit me like a tsunami when I gaze upon the Art is Love painting we created for his birthday just five months ago. So much has propagated, so much has shifted since then. My vision blurs as my heart pounds, thumping against my rib cage causing my chest to rise and fall with haste.

Jumping from contact, I scream, turning to see a blurry Axle before me. His hands fly in the air in surrender, “Chloe I’m sorry. FUCK! I have to stop.” Shaking his head, “Are you okay?”

Unable to formulate words I scurry to the guest bedroom next to his, sealing the door shut behind me. How can his touch cause such tension, why? I desired his graze once and now our connection has shattered along with me. Frustration builds up, I can’t take this, stomping towards the shower, I blaze the hot water, ripping my clothes off, jumping into the hazy fog.

Trickles of water connecting with my skin, sear my flesh as it descends down my body. I seek this pain, I desire to feel this anguish to replace all else. Red streaks ravage my skin.

My chest vibrates, the sounds of my cries muffled by the searing roar of the shower. Leaning against the wall, weakness consumes me, sliding into the tub, I allow the water to ravage my skin. Closing my eyes in the comfort of pain, darkness consumes me.

Terrified at the sudden feel of warmth, I flail my arms, ready to attack, “Don’t touch me!”

“Chloe it’s me! Open your eyes!”

Snapping my eyes apart, my vision attempts to focus. I swing my arm, connecting with his jaw.

“Fuck!” His voice, it’s Axle.

“Where am I?” My eyes dart to every inch of the room before realization hits me, it was a horrific replay of the past month. Reality smacks me in the face, my baby... I lost my baby, Axle is alive and I’m in his home.

Tears overflowing, rising to full height I screech, “Get out!” Darting for a towel to conceal myself not wanting him to view me. To observe my shame, it’s my fault. I should have fought harder. I should have protected our baby. I am to blame for our baby’s passing.

Springing back with hands surrendering, “I just came to check on you. It’s been an hour. I needed to ensure you were okay.”

“I... just please... leave.” He needs to vacate the room, I cannot see him right now.

Twisting on the balls of his feet he strides towards the door, leaving a piece of my heart on the floor with each step. Why is this happening? My intention is not to cause any more pain. Staring at the mirror I observe the tattered woman I’ve become.

A knock echoes in the room, “Chloe? It’s me Shelly.”

Peeling the door from the frame, Shelly envelopes me in a loving embrace allowing my frustration and anguish to stain her shirt.

Sleep is both my enemy and my friend. Shutting my eyes cause horrid gifs to replay on a horrendous loop of agony but also supplies me with the much needed rest I clearly require.

Unable to halt my feet from fleeing the bed, I creep towards Axle’s door, just pushing it ajar. The turquoise moonlight slinks in between the curtains lighting the room just enough to shadow his inked figure.

Following the flow of intricate lines that coat his bulging flesh trace to his pulchritudinous face. He’s at ease and serene, no longer tortured by my reckless emotional state of fear.

Tiptoeing to his side, I’m flummoxed with emotion. How I long to feel his touch but cognizant his touch now triggers flashes of terror. Fully aware, harm is never his intent, my mind cannot fathom a touch from any male hands.

Watching his chest rise and fall, I crave to harken his heartbeat. The comfort it once held for me, now a distant memory. How I crave that comfort once more.

Strolling to the other side of the bed, I hesitate as I plant one knee after the other on the edge lowering my head to the pillow. Laying in his bed, he’s far enough not to come within contact but close enough to sense the heat radiating off his physique.

Tears infiltrate my eyes as liquid begins to flow. How I’ve caused him so much pain. How my pain rules my world now. How will we get past this? Is this something we can move on from? I attempt to cry in silence as Axle fades into a blurry mess.

A wave of utter exhaustion smacks my body like a tidal wave inciting my eyelids to conceal my vision as I release one final breath before the darkness welcomes me in its warm embrace.

~~~~

Axle is tortured by his guilt.

Chloe is riddled with fear, guilt and anguish.

What will happen next? Thoughts? Theories?

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