cw :: domestic abuse
based on this piece.
It’s Saturday — Casey’s favorite day of the week, yet he can’t fathom continuing on for another hour, another minute, even another second. His run-in with Sarah in the morning has him cooped up in the guest room. Through the window, he occasionally catches Savannah run by while playing, and he knows he should be there. He knows he should be able to swallow it back, push it to the side if only to offer her some normalcy in a world that’s become entirely distorted, but he can’t.
A knock at the door doesn’t stir him, doesn’t inspire him to move at all. It barely even registers until the door opens, zero regard for permission. “Case?”
The sudden noise reminds him of his throbbing headache. Instinctively he touches at the gash in his forehead, no longer actively bleeding, but still aching all the same. “Case?” Sarah repeats herself. He wishes he never looked over, but it’s almost reflex the way his eyes follow the sound of her voice, even if his attention doesn’t linger more than a few seconds before falling on the window again. He sits up, as if preparing an exit plan; Sarah takes it as an invitation and sits beside him, a hand placed on his arm, her head leaned on his shoulder. She breaks the silence first. “I wish you’d say something.”
The weight on his chest never seems to budge; Casey finds himself struggling to speak past a rock in his throat as he leans his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Casey, I’ve apologized five times already — what do you want me to say? If you’re not gonna forgive me, I wish you’d say it,” she snaps at him, lifting her head. When their eyes finally meet, her expression softens up for a moment, then sinks entirely. “You still love me, right?”
Casey doesn’t have an answer, at least not one he can put into words right then. All he can come up with in the moment is a half-hearted “of course I do,” spoken with dwindling confidence, just barely above a whisper. If she doesn’t buy it, he wouldn’t blame her, but she just shakes her head, pulling herself from her spot beside him, only to assume a new one directly in front of him. Sarah successfully thwarts any exit plans as she kneels down and presses her forehead against his, causing his whole body to freeze over entirely.
Casey can’t bring himself to move away, but definitely isn’t about to move forward. He just sits still, eyes on the ground, teeth grit together while Sarah does the talking. “Then talk to me… please, Casey, I really am sorry.”
“I forgive you…” He remains still for a few seconds longer, then finally brings himself to break apart from her, only so he can look her in the eye. “But if we’re gonna get through this, that can’t happen again, and I’m really serious about that. That can’t happen again, okay?”