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“Now let’s try this again,” he said, showing a patience and calm that was nearly heartbreaking.
“I know what you’re capable of,” I said in a quiet voice.
“What does that mean?” he responded.
“I know that, and I still…”
I was talking to him, but not really. I was mostly talking to myself, verbalizing the things that I had known for months but hadn’t allowed myself to accept.
“I knew what you were, and I gave myself to you. You killed without remorse. Had done it before. You’ll do it again. I deserve this,” I said.
The truth of that, the finality of it, hit me like a ton of bricks.
But I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
I met his eyes, dark, glittering, uncertain in a way I had never seen before.
“I deserve this, Davit. But the baby doesn’t,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
His voice was so calm, so earnest, that I had to answer.
“You have to understand I did what I thought was best,” I pleaded.
“Keeping my child from me is not best,” he countered.
“Maybe not. But I had to protect us. Protect myself,” I said.
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing.
“From me?”
“I know what family means to you,” I said without answering.
“Everything,” he responded.
“Yes. So I needed to protect the baby, and myself.”
“Amethyst, you’re not making any sense,” Davit said.
I found myself reaching for him, and I wrapped my hands around his, squeezed them.
I worried I might hurt him, but then laughed at the thought, knowing that wasn’t a possibility.
“Davit, please…”
I could feel my eyes starting to tear, but I pushed those down, kept focused on him.
Kept my hands tight on his, squeezing, unwilling to look away.
I had to say this, had resisted before, but knew that I needed to try.
“Please don’t…”
I swallowed thickly, my voice garbled with tears.
Breathed in, breathed out, waited until I was calm enough to try to speak again.
