Tried With Fire - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 39

The open curtains allowed a glow of sunlight into my room early the next morning. I yawned, rubbed my eyes, rolled over...and remembered that I wasn't at home. I stroked the pillow where Hunter's head should have been. It was cold.
               Immediately incandescent, I started thrashing against the pillows and duvet, holding back screams of anger. Not only had I broken up my family in the first place, but last night I had ruined my chances of rebuilding it too! Now Hunter was probably still sleeping in his car outside, too stubborn to take the first step toward me but too loyal to leave me behind.
               I groaned loudly, again and again. Then I pulled at the roots of my hair and buried my face in the pillow on Hunter's side of the bed. I could smell a trace of the shampoo he used, but it was weak and after the first sniff, undetectable. Then I dried my eyes, checked the time (6:03) and got out of bed.
               'Hey, at least you slept! You would have slept better with Hunter beside you, but at least you slept.'
               There was a mirror in the bathroom. I don't know why hotels always have such tall mirrors beside the showers - does anybody out there really enjoy the sight of their own naked body? Or is my self esteem really that much worse off than the rest of the world's? Either way, I couldn't help but glimpse my reflection as I stepped into the shower, and when I did, I cried again. Then as I had been, very sadly, getting re-accustomed to do over the last two weeks, I scrambled for my eyebrow scissors, opened them up and cut a jagged line across my left forearm.
               I heard pounding, reverberating, familiar voices after that which sliced deeper into me than the scissors had. Jonathan, Sarah, Westone, and the words of other therapists boomed old advice such as:
'If you ever feel like cutting again, remember there are other, more effective coping mechanisms that you can use...'
'The relief of self harm lasts seconds, but talking to someone, letting someone help you, that is what will help you in the long term...'
'Count to ten, drink some cold water, go for a run, tell someone how you're feeling, break something if you have to - but don't, don't, cut yourself.'
'Too late.' my own hoarse voice replied.

In the shower I went through the classic motions of overthinking, crying for a while, giving myself a pep talk and finally, shaving my legs. The razor looked so sharp, so welcoming, but warnings kept flooding my brain until the thought of hurting myself again repulsed me.
               I was just pondering whether or not I had enough water in me to cry again, when I opened the bathroom door, stepped out into the bedroom and nearly had a heart attack. There was Hunter, standing awkwardly beside the bed. His hair was messier, his eyes were darker and his face was paler than it had been two hours ago. He looked directly at me.
               'Mamma Mia!' I yelped. I jumped back and nearly dropped my towel with fright. Hunter's eyes sparked for just a second, but dulled again when I managed to keep it in place. 'How the hell did you get in here!?'
'You didn't lock the door last night.' Hunter said blankly. 'I did knock first, but you didn't answer.'
'I was in the shower!'
'I can see that.'
'You frightened the life out of me, Hunter!'
'Sorry.'
               The room fell silent. Embarrassed and skittish, I sidestepped around my husband, giving him a wide berth, and pulled some clean clothes out of my suitcase. I tried to keep my crimson, oozing forearm out of his sight, but he watched me closely.
               'Alright.' I sighed. 'I'm going to get dressed. Do you want something before you go?' I dumped my clothes in the bathroom and looked at him from the doorway. Hunter blinked slowly.
'Ruth, I-I don't know what to say to you, after last night.'
'Why are you here then?'
'Er,' he swallowed, 'I-I don't know.'
'Well, then, drive safe.' I said icily, shutting the bathroom door between us and leaning back against it. I had to tilt my head all the way back to get some air into my lungs.
               Just as my chest began to loosen, the door holding me up moved. I gasped, jumped away from it, and Hunter's head appeared in the gap, looking me up and down, once again disappointed.
               'Would you stop barging in on me?' I whined, crossing my arms. Hunter nodded his weary head, but entered the tiny bathroom and shut us both in anyway. 'What are you doing?'
'This is a nice, tight fit.'
'Shut up, Hailey.'
               'Ruth, I can't stand not getting along with you.' Hunter said. 'We have to make this right. You have to talk to me.'
'I don't have to do anything.'
'Don't you even want to know what happened? Don't you want to know what you did last night that fixed everything in an instant?'
'I don't believe it is all fixed.' I grumbled.
'Because you don't want it to be.'
'Maybe I don't! Maybe I like having an excuse to leave because I feel unworthy of being loved by you, Hunter.' I said coldly but honestly. 'And maybe that won't change.'
'You're pushing me away.' Hunter said, slowly stepping closer. 'You know it hurts me when you talk about yourself like that, and you want to hurt me. You want this decision to be easy. But I won't let you get away from me again, Ruth. At least, not without a long, hard fight first.'
               Hunter looked down at me as he spoke, his eyes going wild as they traced my frame in a passionate fury. I quickly checked I was covered up by the towel. I was.
               'Don't be like this, Hunter, please.' I begged him. 'I don't want to fight with you. I just can't be your wife anymore.'
'Well I am perfectly happy to be your husband, so I'm going to keep being 'like this' until you change your mind.' Hunter stated assertively. Then he continued, theatrically, 'Ruth, I love you. I need you. I can't be happy without you. I need you every second of every day of every week of every -'
'Stop it!' I suddenly shouted, clutching at my head. 'Stop it, Hunter! I can't bear it! I can't love you anymore. It's too hard for me!'
'Love is easy.' Hunter replied, quiet now. He stood in the way of the door, and didn't budge when I tried to push him aside. 'You either feel it, or you don't. Tell me, Ruth, do you feel it right now?'
'Of course I feel it.' I whimpered. 'I feel it stronger than anything else - even more than I feel this stupid thing.' and I gave him a glimpse of my bleeding forearm. 'And that's why I can't bear it.'
               Hunter's breath hitched at the sight. After a second he gently, tenderly, stroked down my arm and turned it upwards, exposing the cut again.
'Ruth...' but he couldn't finish the sentence.
'See? I'm crazy! Even you still get shocked by me.' I said. 'Now move.'
               Hunter released his weak grip on my arm, his face etiolated by the sight of blood. As his shoes shifted I thought he was moving to open the door, but then he grabbed my head again and pressed his lips against mine, roughly. I tried to fight him off at first, but after a few seconds I started to weaken. I was feeling passion, a connection, loved - something I hadn't felt for a long time.
               With our lips knitted together, Hunter picked me up and finally opened the door to the bathroom. Then he walked straight over to the bed, threw me onto it and dropped down on top of me.