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Danya
Something inside of me is broken. It’s been that way for years, but I didn’t figure out what it was until I started to fall for Taylor.
It was my heart.
But now, after only a few weeks of healing, it’s broken again, this time deeper and more painful than the first time. I thought that my dad and sister dying was the worst thing that would ever happen to me. I realize only now that life can get worse.
I fall asleep alone on the first night, snoring with the book Taylor was reading on my chest. I tried to read it, but even though my spoken English is fine, I struggle with reading. Still, I enjoyed looking at the same pages that Taylor did.
I don’t work at all the next day. I try to bring food to Taylor, but she doesn’t want it. She won’t even open the door for me. I’m locked out of her life for the foreseeable future.
I realize that my relationship with Taylor could be over, and it makes me want to die. I’ve traded the opportunity for a beautiful marriage for a couple of uranium mines.
Was it worth it?
If I knew I was going to fall in love with Taylor, would I have done this?
I don’t have the answers, so I try to block it all out with liquor and smoke. I have vodka leftover from the wedding, so I drink that, giving myself an alcohol baptism until I can’t walk anymore.
The next day, I wake up on the floor in the hallway beside the door to what was once my bedroom. My head is pounding and the maid is trying to help me off the floor, but I refuse the help. I want to lay here and stare at the grooves in the wood until I rot.
Eventually, I have to get up and manage my hangover, once again offering Taylor the same food that I’m eating. She refuses, yelling hoarse insults through the door until I leave.
I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to get her to eat yet, but she has to have something eventually. I don’t recall keeping any food in the bedroom, and a girl her size isn’t going to last long without calories. She barely has enough fat to sustain herself in between meals, much less an entire week.
But getting her out of her cave proves difficult, and two more days pass until I’ve had enough. I’m not going to let her die in there. She’s my wife and therefor my responsibility, and even if she won’t admit it to herself, I don’t hate her. In fact, I care very much about her wellbeing.
On the evening of the fifth day, I knock on the bedroom door hard enough for the entire city to hear it. I want to make sure that Taylor doesn’t ignore me.
“Open up or I’m coming in the hard way!” I bellow, hoping that she will spare my shoulder from having to act as a battering ram.
I have no such luck. I’m met only with silence, and it makes my skin crawl. She’s been in there long enough to starve, and I haven’t checked on her all day.
My stomach twists up and my palms sweat as I bang on the door. “Taylor! Let me know you’re okay!”
Still no answer.
My heart skips a beat when I realize something might have happened to her. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if my negligence caused her to get hurt.
Or worse.
I back away from the door, leaning forward and slamming my shoulder into it so hard that I hear the wood near the lock splintering. I slam into it again, putting even more force this time and feeling the shock in my collarbone.
Fuck it, I’ll break every bone in my body if it means saving Taylor from herself.
The third time breaks the door off its hinges, and I stumble into the bedroom, nearly tripping over Taylor as I regain my footing. She’s crumpled in a heap on the ground, not moving save for the slight rise and fall of her chest.
Which means she’s alive, but that she’s definitely not okay. She can’t just be sleeping.
I kneel down, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “Taylor, wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
She grumbles something, a faint word like she’s stuck in a dream, and I ease her back onto the floor.
I rush to the bathroom, which is soaked in water, and run my hand under the sink, getting enough water in my palm to bring back to Taylor and splash on her face.
She wakes up immediately when the water hits her, blinking wildly and looking around in confusion.
Relief washes over me. I want to laugh, cry, and scream at her all at the same time. “Are you okay? What happened?” I ask.
