The Window

His head shook wildly. He was infuriated because he knew he sounded like he had a brain injury. His mind raged because he couldn't even say he was sorry without fucking it up. In sheer frustration, he punched his hand through the wall. Emma jumped and cringed away from him fearfully for an instant. He looked absolutely devastated. Horrified with himself and shook his head while tenderly cupping her cheek, ever so gently.

His head fell against her shoulder and he began sobbing. His hand hung. Blood was dripping fluidly as the tears pouring from his eyes was. He was a wreck. Guilt and grief over the loss of the woman he treasured was killing him. He told her again to call the cops. Then said "Ah...I'm sa.. so sa ...sorry!" His eyes pleaded his apology far better than the words he stuttered ever would. He sobbed with regret he hadn't suspected or conceived he'd even feel. He couldn't raise his eyes or lift his head from her shoulder. The deafening silence from her nearly killed him.

He forced himself to sit up to finish untying her. He froze when Emma finally spoke.

"What's your name?" she whispered. He wiped her tears tenderly from her eyes briefly glancing into her smoky-green eyes. They didn't appear to be filled with hatred. Somehow, he'd known her kind eyes would be there no matter how much she hated him though.

He looked away and said, "Luke".

It was the one word he was always able to utter without that fucking stutter. He glanced again at her. Her eyes almost looked like they held ... compassion? That couldn't be right.

She quietly said, "Luke?"

He nodded.

"I had a brother. He stuttered, his whole life. After his first year of high school, he killed himself. People were so..." Her voice broke apart trailing off. "I know you understand." she sobbed as tears dripped down her face.

He nodded with his head hung low.

"I wish you'd have done this differently. Talked to me, but I've... "

He couldn't listen to her reject him. It was almost worse than knowing he'd hurt her. He tuned her out as she spoke. There was another dreaded silence as he interpreted, trying to make sense of her words that had slipped through though he'd tried to tune her out. It sounded almost like "Maybe we could start over. I've had fantasies ... to be taken...blah blah blah...while I struggled... he tuned out the pain.

"I was ...blah... blah..so turned on, blah blah... You could come back... blah... blah... That would...blah...blah... Okay with me. Luke?"

She was nearly certain he wasn't grasping anything she'd said. He didn't appear to comprehend he'd gotten her off like she'd never dreamed of getting off.

His head lifted but he appeared so confounded. She was struggling with the realities that she'd loved fighting him then letting her body free of any guilt because this was out of her control, or had been until now. She wanted him to come back.

The tiniest seeds of hope planted themselves in barren ground he'd believed would forever be dust in the wind. It was such a bitter wind that had blown against him for so long. The desolate loneliness was all that was left in its wake. He couldn't have heard her correctly. No one would ever forgive what he'd done tonight. He was certain, almost.

"Wa what?" came his deep timbered voice, tremulously. His chest heaving and tears bit the corners of his eyes. He rocked his body from one leg to the other. His forehead had a grimace. He shook his head side to side unable to believe what she'd said. He quickly dressed, untied her, kissed her forehead gently, then handed her a phone to call the police. When she didn't dial the phone and just sat staring at him he knew he had to leave. He'd never darken her doorway again. He couldn't get himself to look back at her as he climbed out the window. His hope was destroyed. The doubt that raged in his mind was so much stronger.

She watched him leave and called out in a voice so emotional it was almost inaudible. Though he wanted to believe he had heard her he didn't allow himself to listen really, but he knew deep down he'd heard her say, "I'm not mad at you Luke! ...Luke?"

He dove out that window and ran. He ran hard and fast. He swore to let her be. He hated himself for hurting her. She didn't know what the hell she had said to him because she was traumatized. She'd only said it so he'd leave. She had been scared. Hadn't she? Weeks passed tormenting him with the words he'd blocked out of his mind. They tempted him. He couldn't bear either her rejection nor the hope what he'd heard her say was possible. He desperately wanted to see her, but couldn't approach the window.

Hope is a dangerous thing. It will crush you to bits when it's destroyed. What if I'm wrong? In that moment, he realized hope was all he'd been holding onto since the moment he'd seen her dancing in her underwear. With all his heart, he held that hope. That thought that, against all odds, Emma saw him. She saw beyond the monster he'd been, beyond his failure to treat her right, beyond his fucked up broken voice and fear of rejection, beyond the fact he knew he was a broken, defective tool. Could that be possible?

His head hung down. He was unable to even look at the window as he approached. He knew he had no right to return, ever. He was there though, staring at the ground, standing in front of the window where he'd been so many times he couldn't count. He was shaking so hard he dropped to his knees. Quietly he asked in a whisper, "I know I'm not worthy, but just once God, I'd like to find my way home."

When he finally tipped his head back and looked up, tears streamed down his cheeks. His head slowly shook in utter disbelief. The window was open wide but then a sob ripped from his throat as he saw Emma had tied a yellow ribbon to the pull on the window. Luke's name was clearly written on both ends as they flew in the breeze.