"Look," he said. "You've got to believe me." His shoulders tensed and his hands raised. The pleading look in his eyes did nothing to alleviate the pressure she placed on him. In fact, it only served to insense her more. If he thought for one second that she'd let him get back up, he'd go on bended knee and beg. He'd kiss her feet. He'd be her slave if he thought it would help, but he knew nothing could save him this time, however innocent he might be.

She was tired, and he could see it. She'd been through this so many times that all she was doing now was going through the same old script. Nothing ever changed.

"Really! I promise!" The urgency in his voice was becoming clear and loud. "Honest to god, sweetheart, I didn't do anything!"

She walked over to him, her hands steadfastly resting on her hips, her eyes boring their way through his skull. Her eyes never once left his as she spoke quietly and calmly, her voice almost a whisper.

"Don't 'sweetheart' me. The more you profess your innocence, the less I believe you. It's pathetic. You're pathetic. I don't know why I bother anymore. Tell me why I shouldn't just throw you out and change the locks."

She waited.

He had no answers left as he pitifully stared back into her cold, hard eyes. But then suddenly, without warning, the fog lifted and he could see clearly. He'd never realised it before. He'd never been able to see past his own anguish until now. His mouth began to form the words and he was no longer afraid of himself, or her.

"Because you love me."

She gasped audibly, as though about to speak, and he gently raised his hand and rested a finger on her lips before he continued. "Because you need me."

He watched her eyes as they began to soften, and he could almost hear her heart sigh. He paused a moment as he listened through the stillness of the early morning, his ears searching for the first birdsong of the day, the first sign that things were going to change from this moment on. He wasn't apprehensive about the new day anymore, because he was taking this one, and every one after it, for himself. And he was going to hang on for dear life, embrace it, live it.

His soft, calm, melodic voice continued as she listened intently. "You need me, sweetheart. Without me, you're just another face. You're no different to anyone else, unless you have me at your side."

Her eyebrows began to furrow as she heard his words, the realisation that what he spoke was the truth cut through her body, and suddenly she was almost too weak to hold herself up in front of him. But her feet were rooted to the spot, and to try to move now would cause her more pain than relief.

He pulled his hand back towards him, freeing her lips to speak, but nothing would come. So many thoughts flashed through her mind at once, that it was impossible to take hold of just one and voice it. So she just watched him. As he backed away from her, she trembled, and finally her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor in front of him. With tears beginning to sting her eyes, she watched as he turned away and rolled his wheelchair through the door. He didn't look back.

Copyright © K Wakeman