a place we know| ✓

sixty

"And find a place where every single thing you see tells you to stay."
S E E K E R
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February 15th
4:54 PM
New York
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Audrey didn't do much since her discharge from the hospital.

Gunner's sudden entrance into the room had been devastating. He burst in with Leah following closely behind, and Audrey could tell from the heartbroken look on his face that he already knew the truth. She couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud, but her expression said it all as tears streamed down her face. It was the confirmation he needed to know that their unborn child had passed away.

"I'm sorry about our baby."

"It's fine, I just want you to be okay."

Audrey's grief was unlike Gunner's, as she was the mother who carried their lost child. The emptiness she felt was profound, and she found herself lost in a quiet, desolate place. Sometimes she found her hand absentmindedly stroking her stomach, longing for what was once there. The baby had been a part of her, a precious life so small, vulnerable, and dependent on her. Yet she had chosen a man over its well-being, and now it was gone.

I'm a horrible mom. 

The man who had been the father of two children, and who had abused her while she was blinded by infatuation rather than thinking logically, using and humiliating her. She now bore the scars and bruises he had left her with, his parting gift, and it had broken Gunner's heart when he had seen her lying in that hospital bed.

She remembered the ins and outs of their conversation, but beneath the tears and layers of sorrow, days later she ended up back in her old apartment, tackling life as it came and pushing thoughts of her miscarriage to a place where she'd never access the memories again.

Easier said than done.

Audrey had developed a ritual of counting the bruises that still lingered on her arms, face, and neck in the bathroom mirror. The tender marks, though fading, served as a painful reminder of the violent relationship she had finally managed to escape. Each time she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she recoiled in disgust.

Every night, before she fell asleep in Gunner's loving arms, she'd check her phone to make sure that Tucker hadn't reached out to her with his usual threats to stay quiet. She never said a word to her boyfriend about her episodes of paranoia because he was already extremely concerned about her. Whenever her ex-boyfriend called, he always used the same harsh tone on her to ask if she had said a word to Gunner or the police about his abusive tendencies. She said no. 

Audrey hated him, but she didn't want to be the reason he lost his two boys.

But now it was Gunner who took on the responsibilities of dropping Leah off at school, making sure she was fed, helping her with her homework - despite struggling with it due to his lack of recent education - and saying goodnight. The routine repeated itself each morning, as Gunner did his best to be a father figure for Leah in Audrey's absence.

Audrey was slipping every day. She was depressed, but not in simplistic terms. She was detached and colourless. Her lips forgot how to smile and her eyes only performed the same function of closing, opening, and crying. Their bedroom was her safe space; the world couldn't get to her within its four walls.

Wake up, breathe, walk. Her three settings.

And the side effects didn't just include crippling heartache when she was alone with her thoughts. Gunner's resolve was also deteriorating. He was tired, but he tried to be strong for the both of them. She loved him for that, she was forever grateful.