Page 120 of Serenity

“Hey…”

Frozen in place, even as I entered, she didn’t move or speak. Her withdrawal came as no surprise. It was to be expected.

“I was considering Thai for dinner. Do you want something different?”

“I’m not hungry,” weakly, she floated the response.

“Baby—”

She fixed me with a glare that threatened an asteroid storm, though it didn’t deter me.

“Let me know when you are hungry. I’ll order the Thai anyway, just in case.”

The following days were more of the same. I entered the room to find her staring off into the distance as silent tears fell from her eyes. Pain bloomed in my chest to witness Serenity in such a defeated state. She became an amalgamation with the fucking furniture. Skipping the shower, she didn’t eat, and she hardly spoke. Withering like an untended rose, I watched her petals fall by the wayside.

Bearing witness was no better. Her wilting sparked my own decline. As I lay in bed beside her, I racked my mind for a solution to our travails. Even if temporary. We couldn’t waste away. Wouldn’t waste away together.

On day five, I picked her up despite her silent protests and lowered her into the tub. Nearby was some food her mother dropped off, and I was prepared to spoon-feed her ass if necessary. The sips of water and toddler bites of the food she’d been consuming over the week had done nothing to keep her nourished. My face lit up like fucking Christmas when she ate half the plate Ms. Miller brought by.

After assisting her with the bath, she returned to the bed, not issuing me a word. The lifelessness behind her irises, paired with the detached way she walked, was frightening. She was barely with us in the land of the living. That night, as I paced the living room, my thoughts stalked behind me. We had to get out of this fucking slump. By any and all means.

Retiring to the bed was no better. Watching her decline placed a heavy burden of guilt on my shoulders. The tape had been my idea. My fucking kink had led us here. Tearing my eyes from the ceiling, I rolled over to my side to face my woman. The dark circles under her eyes and the puffiness of her face were unbecoming. I couldn’t take it. Refused to accept it. Not my Bumble Bee.

“We could leave. Go to some other country until things settle. Get away from all this bullshit like we always do.”

The lifelessness in her eyes was terrifying. She blinked but didn’t issue an expression or a response. My thoughts made haste, as did my words, following through with the idea.

“I was thinking Japan. The countryside outside of Tokyo. Somewhere quiet. Not too crowded. How does that sound?”

“Okay.”

It was the first sound she’d made in days. Those two syllables were sweeter than fucking honey. Inside, I was rejoicing.

Defeat amplified her voice in place of excitement. We could have been going to a dirt hut, and she probably wouldn’t have given a fuck. Too deep in the darkness of her mind, she cordoned off the ill thoughts from me. That was how we operated under stress. Compartmentalize and keep that shit moving. Only in this instance, my baby wasn’t moving. Her despondency was contagious and disheartening. I knew the burden was heavy. I shared it, too.

“Bee?”

Again, I called out to her. Newly manufactured insecurities were sprouting in the fertile synapses of my mind.

“Yeah, Duke?”

“Do you trust me?”

There was silence. Uncomfortable silence made it difficult to discern if it was intended to be an answer or not. I swallowed a lump of fear seasoned with discomfort, praying the two didn’t surface again in regard to us.

“I do.”

While raspy, her angelic voice chased away all my doubts. Helplessly, I strained my ears and shifted my limbs to tune in to the sound of it. I hadn’t heard her speak in days. Propped on my elbow, I held my head up, looking in her direction.

“I just—I’m having a difficult time wrapping my head around it all. I’m so fucking ashamed, Duke.”

“Baby…” Cementing my eyes to hers before I completed my thought was essential. I needed her to feel my authenticity. To believe my words absent a shadow of doubt. Finally, she looked at me. Her eyes were less frightening. More hopeful. But still bleak.

“I don’t know who’s responsible, but I promise you that I’m going to get to the bottom of it. And whoever is responsible is going to fucking pay miserably.”

I meant every word.

“I don’t want revenge. I just—” She sighed. “I wish I could go back in time and never record that stupid ass video.”