Chapter 72 prepared to give up
With her heart thumping her ribs, Annabel stood motionless her hand still raised. Her palm striking his cheek sounded like a physical blow adding a harsh punctuation to the agony of the morning.
Carson was a statue as well. He was standing in the corridor with one hand up to his cheek and his body cocked slightly. He stared at her with wide shocked eyes.
Her own horror was reflected in the disbelieving expression. She had no intention for violence.
Never in her life had she raised her hand to anyone much less the man she was in love with. She watched the physical sign of her anger—the pink flush that was spreading across his cheek.
Then gradually his eyes changed. After the shock subsided a deep devastating sadness that penetrated her very being took its place.
No longer able to look into her eyes he lowered his hand. The polished marble floor reflected their warped shapes as he gazed at it.
She felt the need to talk. Although the words I'm sorry tried to get through to her they were stymied by the stone of her shame and fear.
It was intolerable to see his head down and the sorrow in his eyes. She made a mistake. not only his faith but also the flimsy pretense of their ideal existence.
She couldn't bear to witness the suffering she had caused. She was unable to accept the consequences of her actions.
She turned and ran saying nothing more. She made an incredibly clumsy and desperate run back down the hallway as if her life depended on it.
Her bare cold feet slapped frantically against the marble echoing the pounding in her chest. It was a new source of embarrassment to see her own feet so tiny and unimportant in the imposing reverberating hall.
She struggled to turn the knob of the master suite door as her fingers were shaking too much to hold it firmly.
When she eventually succeeded in turning it she yanked the door open and staggered inside slamming the heavy wood behind her with a last defiant thud.
The sound served as her final communication with the man in the hallway. She slid down leaning against the door until she was a pile of silk and suffering on the chilly marble floor.
She finally let out the tears she had been suppressing for what seemed like an eternity but they came in a torrent of gasping sobs that rocked her whole body rather than in quiet graceful rivers.
Her nightgowns opulent silk cruelly mocked her agony as she buried her face in her knees.
She wept for the woman she had been and the easy carefree life she had abandoned. She wept for Carson, the man she had just hit and the now-irrevocably tarnished love.
Her tears were for the weight of a legacy she was never supposed to carry and for the gilded cage that had become her prison.
Her head ached and her throat became raw from crying so much. What had she done? What had she become?
The irony left her with a sour taste. She had desired this easy-going comfortable life hadnt she? But it was a cage with invisible bars, a reward she had to work for a comfort she had to earn.
She was hurting in every way—her heart from the betrayal, her soul from the loneliness and her shoulders from the work.
She remembered the woman's easy smile and the expression on Victoria's face. She had been effectively made to feel like a fraud and an outsider.
The anger she had experienced before had turned into a chilly empty void. Deep aching sadness was all that remained.
For what seemed like hours she sat there as the pale light of the sun crept deeper into the space illuminating dust particles that were dancing in the quiet.
She was a shell of a woman worn out and depleted as her sobs gradually stopped. She had a restless energy in her bones but she felt as though she could sleep for a thousand years.
Her phone was on the bed where she had left it the previous evening when her red and swollen eyes fell upon it.
The tiny black object appeared to be a window into her former existence. To her former self.
She forced herself to get off the ground slowly and painfully. The grief and fatigue made her limbs feel heavy.
Her body sank into the plush mattress as she crawled onto the bed. After feeling so cozy the previous evening the silk sheets now felt cold and unfamiliar.
She grabbed the phone her hand shaking as she did so. Her finger lingered over a name as she flipped through her contacts.
Fred.
Right now, he was the only one who she could talk to, he was the only one who could understand.
If only briefly he was the only one who could provide her with an escape. She wiped her face quickly and pressed the call button slowly.
The line rang with a hollow electronic sound that seemed to make fun of the room's overwhelming silence.
She held her breath as she listened. Once. Twice. The sound was so distant and impersonal. No response.
She felt a new wave of disappointment. She hit the call button once more. It was the same ringing the same sound. Her heart continued to sink.
This was the only thing she was unable to do correctly. Asking for assistance is a straightforward task. She let out a long exhausted sigh on the third ring and put the phone down on the bed prepared to give up.
She dropped it and then a familiar quiet voice spoke. A voice that seemed to be from another world.
“Hello. Annabel?”
She glanced quickly at the phone and her heart skipped a beat.