Unwarranted. Unfair. And yet, I can't reroute my rage.
"For fuck's sake, I said I'm fine!"
I can feel her flinch, the air shifting, and I feel like the most useless sack of shit on this earth. I've never raised my voice at her like that. I always promised that I would saw off my nuts if I even snapped at her, and look at me now.
Pathetic asshole.
And I hear her sob, then try to muffle it, not wanting me tohear, not wanting the boys to hear. She shrinks herself for our comfort.
My own tears silently slip across the bridge of my nose, down my temple, to my pillow.
Turn over, you asshole, pull her into your arms, and apologize! That's your wife, and she's crying because of you! Turn around, pull her into her arms, and tell her that you're sorry, that you love her more than air, and hold her. Don't let her just cry! She's crying because of you!
Fuck you, Atlas, you're worthless.
But I can't, because that might just bring on more nightmares, might open the door I've been keeping locked.
So, I remain there with my eyes closed, inwardly collapsing like a dying fucking star, feeling so low and pathetic as I listen to my wife cry.
Because of me.
Chapter Fourteen
Atlas
November
“Why?”
"I-I don't—I can't—" I stumble over my words, my mouth opening and closing uselessly.
Wendy's green eyes soften as she watches me struggle, all the sharp, angry lines of her face smoothing away like she's forcing herself to remember that I'm her husband.
I'm her Atlas, and not just the man who’s hurt her.
Fuck, and if that only makes me feel worse.
Even now, after all I've done to her, she still cares about me. She still loves me. She shouldn't, but my wife isn't mean or cruel. Wendy has always been kind and genuinely good, to a fault.
My blood still boils thinking back to watching her mother slap her in the middle of the store, the sharp crack of it echoing in my head even now.
I'd never hit a woman, but I sure as fuck wanted Wendy's father in front of me so I could beat the shit out of him.
From Wendy's reaction, I could see that it wasn't the first time her mother had laid hands on her, so either he just let it happen, or he was laying hands on her too.
Either way, I wanted to fucking kill him. I knew her mom was a vicious bitch, but I didn't think...
Wendy never held a grudge, never let it affect her being a mother, never let the abuse poison the way she loved our children.
I remember her telling me one night, Liam sleeping on herchest, having fallen asleep while she was breastfeeding him—a beautiful sight that always knocked me flat on my ass—that she forgave her mother.
I felt angry, not at her, but just at her mother because she didn't deserve my wife's forgiveness. They moved away after Liam was born, and we never heard from them again.Good fucking riddance.
They never actually sought forgiveness from their daughter, nor did they ask about their grandson. When we saw them in public, they would walk past Wendy and Liam as if they were strangers.
I hated it, hated them, but Wendy never let it bother her, or at least, she never let it show.
When I asked her how and why she could ever forgive them for what they did to her, she said that holding onto it would breed resentment, which she would never allow around our baby.
