Worth It In The End Ch. 10

"Where is that man of yours, Sarah? He hasn't been by to see me for a week," Beauchamp asked. A week had passed since Stefan walked in on what appeared to be a passionate kiss between myself and an ex-lover, but was anything but. The fact that he hadn't stopped by or called or should have bothered me more, but I was still so stunned by the rape that nothing felt real anyway.

"I don't know, I haven't heard from him."

"Well, that is most bizarre. You two seemed to be hitting it off so well."

I didn't answer.

"Well. I guess there's nothing else to discuss. Go on home and get some sleep, you look like you need it," Beauchamp said. I could have hugged him with gratitude if I'd had the strength.

Luckily for me the bruises left by Stefan's attack were all hidden beneath my clothes, making avoiding uncomfortable questions much easier. The cold weather allowed for long sleeves and opaque tights, as well as thick scarves. I wasn't covered in bruises... although I felt like I was. I felt terribly vulnerable and alone and had the overwhelming urge to hide somewhere for as long as humanly possible.

Exiting the building was always an ordeal. I was terrified that I'd run into Gonzalo or Stefan on my walk to the train stop. The possibility of running into Gonzalo mortified me for obvious reasons. My skittishness about seeing Stefan was more difficult to explain. He doubtlessly was thinking that I had tossed him aside to reunite with Gonzalo when he walked in on us last week. He probably couldn't bear to see me. Or maybe he was just disgusted by my weakness. Either way, I couldn't blame him. I was weak.

As soon as I reached the safety of the train, I allowed myself to sink into the cold, unforgiving bench. The rumble of the car as it traversed the tracks vibrated my bones and gave me something else to focus on to avoid being overcome by my inner numbness. The music from my iPod filled my head and took place of thoughts, and I was able to zone out for the half-hour ride home.

When the train pulled up to my stop, I dragged myself up out of my seat and down the steps of the train car. The walk up the stairs to my apartment was arduous, my heavy messenger bag hitting the backs of my legs with every step I took. As soon as I got into my apartment, I locked and deadbolted the door, sliding the chain lock into place. One could say I had gotten a little paranoid. When I was satisfied that the door was as locked as it could be, I dropped my bag and made my way deeper into my home. I still couldn't go in the kitchen without a tinge of fear, but I had managed to overcome that when I became hungry enough. I put on some water to boil for tea, and went to the bathroom to take a hot shower.

Stripping my clothes in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror that hung from the bathroom door. My hair looked greasy and hung in strings around my face. My skin was pale and drawn, and the dark circles under my eyes proclaimed my insomnia. Standing naked in front of the mirror, I noticed that my ribs and hipbones were starting to poke out. I really need to eat more... I told myself. However, I knew it wouldn't really happen. The bruises on my hips and chest were starting to turn greenish yellow. I could still see the clear finger-marks.

Turning away from my near Holocaust-victim appearance, I sheltered myself in the warm humidity of the shower stall. I pulled the curtain close, blocking out as much light as I could. I leaned against the cold tile of the wall and slid down slowly until I was seated on the shower floor. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, allowing the water to bathe me completely. I wrapped my arms around myself and huddled down, feeling the warmth of the water begin to seep through my skin and warm my muscles.

I was just relaxing into a steam-induced haze when I heard the knocking begin at the door. I instinctively froze, but relaxed a second later remembering my deadbolt and chain-lock. Whoever it was would soon be convinced of the apartment's emptiness and leave. However, the knocking continued, growing louder and more persistent. I waited a few more minutes, and still they didn't go away. I slowly pulled myself up and turned off the water, deciding to go and see who it was and persuade them to go the fuck away. I reached for my large robe and tied it securely about my person, making sure it hid my form completely. Pulling my hair back into a sloppy, wet ponytail, I left the bathroom and made my way towards the door.

I undid the deadbolt but left the chain-lock in place so that whoever it was wouldn't be able to push his or her way in. Opening the door a crack, I peeked around to see who it was. And there stood Stefan.

"I knew you were in there," he said. "Will you let me in?"

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, ignoring his second question.

"I saw you go inside the building..."

"Were you following me?" I asked, apprehension beginning to build inside of me. I was slightly reassured by the presence of the door between us, but I didn't feel like it was enough. I began pulling back.

"No! – Well, kind of. Listen to me, Sarah," he put a hand up to stop me from closing the door. "I've been driving myself crazy replaying what I saw last week. I had to come over here and... and talk," he finished rather lamely. He didn't say anything further, but his eyes silently begged entry. Reluctantly, reasoning that I should get this over with sooner rather than later, I undid the chain-lock and opened the door. I turned away immediately to go tend to the howling teakettle, assuming he'd let himself in. I heard the door close and shuddered.

"Sarah, I'm sorry I came here unannounced. I just wanted to... wanted to know. For sure."

"What did you want to know?" I asked, pouring a mug of strong black tea.

"I want to know why you... why you and Gonzalo..." he faltered.

"Spit it out."

"I wanted to know why you went back to him."

The silence hung between us. My heart hammered in my chest at his words. Anger coursed through my veins. Part of me relished in the feeling—it was the first emotion I had felt in a week. I gave into it.

"How dare you." I seethed, not bothering to face him.

"What?" he asked, perplexed.

"I said how DARE you come into my house and accuse me of going back to him!"

"I didn't—"

"That's right! You didn't!" I whirled to face him. He took a step back. "You didn't stand up for yourself! You didn't make him stop! You just LEFT! Just like that! You turned around and left me with that... that... rapist!"

Stefan stood stock still beneath my tirade, staring at me with a shocked expression on his face. Slowly, he began to realize that something was horribly wrong. About fucking time, I thought to myself bitterly. I couldn't bear to watch the realization dawn on his face so I turned back to the mugs, bracing myself on the counter to still my shaking. The indulgent rage was leaving my body, leaving me weak.

"What are you saying, Sarah?" he asked, his voice a different tone entirely. It took me a while to answer.

"I'm saying... that Gonzalo came into my apartment... and ... raped me... and you didn't... even...try... to stop him." At that point the shaking was starting to take me over. I could feel the sobs welling in my throat, the same sobs that had been bottling up for a week now.

"Sarah, I—"

"You should... leave..." I said, turning towards him, trying to keep the tears from overflowing. I gestured towards the door.

"Sarah, stop, I—"

"Leave, Stefan... please..." I took several steps toward him, intending to push him out if I had to. Instead of moving, he put his hands on my arms and held me arms-distance from himself.

"No. Not this time." And with that, he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I was powerless to resist. My body was overtaken by sobs. I shook silently against him, standing limp in his arms. I was dimly aware of his large hands stroking my back, murmuring calming sounds against my temple. I should have pushed him away, but I was just too tired. "Come sit down," he pulled me to the couch and sat down, me with him.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. I calmed down, leaning against his shoulder and breathing in deep breaths as he rubbed my back in circles. Once I had stopped crying, he spoke.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry. I am so, so stupid. I had no idea what I was seeing. I only knew that it terrified me. I couldn't face the fact that you would leave me, so I ran. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I don't expect you to understand or forgive me... I just want you to hear it."

"Stefan, I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't care why you left."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said. I don't care why you left. All that matters is that you did. And there's no way to fix it."

"Sarah, please..."

"Let me finish," I said, pushing myself upright and extricating myself from his arms. "There is no way to take back what was done. He wanted to make sure I would remember him, and now I always will. There's just one thing... just one... that I want to ask of you."

"What? Anything..."

"Don't leave like that again."

In answer, Stefan raised his hand up to my cheek. I closed my eyes and willed myself to accept his touch. My anger at him a few minutes ago was fleeting and momentary, and I realize now that it was just a way for my pent-up emotions to seek release. Right now, at this moment, regardless of past actions, all I wanted was for him to make me forget. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, and then tucked a strand of still-wet hair behind my ear.

"Open your eyes, Sarah." I complied. He was looking at me with an unfathomable expression on his face. He slowly shook his head back and forth. "I won't. I promise."

I had prepared myself for this moment somewhere in the back of my mind. Part of me knew that I should have rebuffed his excuses, scoffed at his promises, and shut the door in his face. However, a larger part of me believed his sincerity and I gave into that part. Slowly, looking into his eyes, I nodded. He slid his hand beneath my jaw and into my tangled wet hair, cupping the base of my skull. He leaned in. I knew he was going to kiss me. I kept still.

Ever so gently, Stefan lowered his lips to mine, as if I were made of porcelain and would break under the slightest pressure. He slowly molded his lips to mine, allowing me to become comfortable with his presence. Thankfully, he didn't push. He held the kiss for a minute longer, and then pulled back.

"I love you, Sarah," he said. His face was a mix of emotions: grief, relief, sadness, and love all warred for dominance of his features. "I fucked up... so badly... and I know that you have every right to slap me and push me out of your life forever... but I hope you won't because I can't bear to live without you."

I closed my eyes and leaned back against his body, grateful for his warmth. I couldn't feel anything. I believed what he said, but at the same time how could I trust that at the next sign of trouble he wouldn't turn tail and flee again? However, I completely agreed with one thing that he said. I couldn't imagine life without him either. For better or worse, if I wanted him in my life I would have to work to trust him again. He was a risk I would have to take.

As his arms wrapped around me again, holding me tightly against his body, I let the beating of his heart lull me to sleep.