Chapter23
Wilson
I don’t want your dirty hands on me Wilson
I stare at my bloodied knuckles, bruised skin, and swollen fingers, the physical gudin wing, compared to the anguish clawing at my heart, the metallic scent of blood and snow fills may nostrils. Hands that once held my wife, comforted her, and promised to love her forever com tex like instruments of destruction. The memory of her touch, once a warm embrace, com tele
now
distant echo.
Hands that held another woman, while they should’ve been the ones to push her away and rush to my wife. Hands that once shook hers, starting a beautiful friendship, hands that we the firfley to touch her, hands that held her whenever she was hurting or sad, hands that brought forward the ring she wore with my name, hands that held her while we took our vous, and handstret ox daughter the day she was born, promising myself to protect her and Leo, to love them to eternity, Now, these were the hands that hurt her, both emotionally and physically,
Leo had felt disgusted by me touching her, being near her. Having to see her being suffocated around me scared me to the bones, I’ve never felt these cold fears sprinting through my bones. I slumped down the garage wall and stared at the reddened boxing bag, no pain of mine, no wound,
no regret would ever be enough compared to what I put her through.
My head seemed heavy, and I let my eyes drift close with exhaustion, only the voice of my ragged
breathing audible, my thighs ached, legs trembled, numbness spreading from the hours I’ve been
standing, punishing my hands, seeking any sort of emotion that would that would sprinkle just a
few drops of water over the fire in my heart, it burns like a raging lava.
“Wilson, Wilson, oh my god.” My mother’s voice pierces the air, dripping with worry and fear.
I heard soft whispers of people speaking around me and a groan slips out of my mouth the moment
I forced my drooping eyes to open up, and my mother and sister were hovering over me, with
watery eyes.
They gently grasped my shoulders and waist, their supportive grip a stark contrast to the turmoil inside me. With careful steps, they guided me towards the house, the familiar creak of the front door a reminder of the comfort and solace that awaited. They led me straight to my bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp a warm embrace, reminding me of a sense of security and peace I once had. As they helped me onto the bed, I felt the weight of my exhaustion, emotional and physical, slowly begin to sit, like a brutal surrender, making me realise how valuable the care of concern are of those around you.
Chapter23
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I force my eyes open, and my mother and sister come into view, their faces etched with concern, their eyes red from crying. The sight of them breaks my heart, and I feel a lump in my throat. As soon as my vision stopped wavering, the nagging guilt came back, settling down inside me like claiming a house, my body felt sore and heavy. I slid up into a seated position exhaustively.
“What have you done to yourself, Will?” My mother cries, her voice cracking as she throws herself into my arms. I hug her back, trying to comfort her, but my own tears betray me, streaming down my face.
“I am fine, Mom,” I assure her, my voice shaking, as I caress her back, trying to soothe her.
“Will,” my sister had her bottom lip plucked into her mouth as she held back her cries. “You’re not mad at me, right? I–I just wanted to support Leo, she’s been through an absolute nightmare, but I–I know it’s not easy for you either. I love you, Will, you’re my little brother. But Leo is just as important to me; I don’t know what to do. You hate me, right?” She sniffles, pulling back and
looking at me with contempt.
“Come here,” I whispered, opening my arms wide in a comforting embrace. She fell into them, her body crashing against mine with a gentle desperation. Her shoulders shook violently as she sobbed, the sound tearing at my heartstrings. I fought to hold back my own tears, my throat constricting with emotion as I wrapped my arms tightly around her, holding her close as she let her guilt unfold.
I sighed, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb, but a stray drop of my own escaped, betraying my efforts to stay strong. She noticed, and her hand instinctively reached out to wipe it away, her fingers tracing the curve of my cheek in a soft, comforting caress. I felt my remorse worsening turning into a sickening feeling, but I pushed that back, focusing on the warmth of their
presence.
“I don’t hate you at all,” I reassured her, my voice firm but gentle. “If anything, I’m glad you’re supporting Leo through this. You’re not making excuses or trying to downplay my mistake, and that means more to me than you know. Just because I regret what happened doesn’t mean the hurt will magically disappear. But knowing you’re here for Leo, and for me, makes it a little easier to bear.” I squeezed my sister’s hand, and my mother, sensing the moment, grasped my other hand, her grip tight and comforting, a wordless reminder of her love and support.
“You do realize you have to respond before five days, right?” Andrea asks, her voice cracking like fragile glass, each word a painful, hesitant whisper. It’s as if she’s forcing herself to speak.
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