Gwen
Gwen bent down to pick up the discarded papers from the floor, her hands shaking as she cleaned up. She straightened the bed up, then went into the kitchenette, making herself a cup of tea, hands still shaking.
Have to keep busy...
She let herself slide down to the floor, her head thudding back against the fridge door, a pain rising in her chest again.
What had led to all of this?
Why had she suggested a break?
In the back of her mind, she supposed she'd meant it. Maybe, maybe they'd rushed into everything. After all, they hadn't even known each other for a year when he proposed. They could never resolve anything. When they fought, they both threw as much as they could at each other to hurt the other. Or they'd solve it with sex. Maybe love wasn't enough to keep them together. Maybe their bond was just purely physical. They had the same fights over and over again, and there was always the underlying issue of trust. When it came right down to it, she supposed they both didn't really trust each other.
She wanted to blame him, wanted to hate him, because it would make this so much easier. But she couldn't. She knew that it was her fault, and she knew that she could never hate him.
But maybe they weren't destined to be together forever. Maybe they were too different, and too stubborn to see this right.
She didn't want it to end like this, with harsh words and a pain that was threatening to consume her from inside to out. But somewhere, deep down, she knew that maybe this was for the best. Maybe this would even bring them back together, closer than before.
They had rushed, and somewhere in the process, she lost who she was. She was just Mordred's girlfriend, and then Mordred's wife. And while a part of her loved that he was there, that he was making decisions, keeping her safe, a part of her drifted away. She lost her independence, lost her old self. Perhaps they both needed to learn if they could live without each other, before they could live with each other.
But she knew that they'd meet again. What she didn't know was under what circumstances and how their relationship would be when they did. But they needed this break. They needed to focus on themselves, and not be constantly joined at the hip because it became too overwhelming. It became too much for both him and her.
And she couldn't go back. Not until she could get over what had happened the night she lost her child.
A part of her didn't even want to admit it had happened, but she felt the loss like a hole in her heart.
Losing Mordred was like losing an arm. Or worse, a torso. He'd been there for her for so long, she forgot what to do now that she was alone.
An itching in her wrists sprung up and she tried to ignore it, as she stood up and tried to see through blurred, teary eyes.
She had to keep busy* or she was going to die.