"Hey let's go to Toys "R" Us and see if they have anything for Jenna on her birthday list."

Justin was looking into my room. The moment his head poked in, fear bloomed inside of me. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't let him take me again. His presence revolted me. This man I once cherished, made me want to puke every time I heard his voice or looked at his face.

Hesitantly, I agreed to go with him, doubt clouding my judgment, my insane need to believe that he still loved me. He's taking an interest in his daughter – maybe he's seeing the light. I'll give him a few hours, see how it goes.

The drive was silent as I watched the streets wiz by. I looked into other cars and watched the passengers laugh with each other. I wondered quietly if anyone else in the world was going through what I was. I knew there would be, but I searched daily for someone who looked like me – someone tired, withdrawn, scared, anxious. Someone who lived in the very depths of hell. Someone who could leave but was so afraid of leaving that they didn't.

Every day I asked myself if today would be the day I left – left him behind to dig his own hole. Is today the day I give up on him? Or maybe tomorrow I'll leave? Maybe tomorrow I'll be one of those people that finally gives up on someone they love.

His hand grabbed mine as we walked through the polluted spray of rain to get to the store. Even though we parked close to the entrance of Toys "R" Us, I still felt drenched in the fine mist. It was a dreary day, gray and overcast. It matched my mood. My daily mood. My very existence in this life. Gone were the days I awoke with laughter in my heart. I missed laughter, smiles, giggles, positive thoughts. I missed me.

I felt myself in me, lost frantically, searching and clawing to get out. I never made it out. One day I would stop searching, and this is what I'd become:

Bitter.

Lonely.

Angry.

Desperate.

His hand squeezed mine, my heart lifting just a bit, jolting me to the present and away from the melancholy thoughts. Feelings I thought were gone dripped in slowly. It had been months, over a year, since he had held my hand. I missed the feeling of my small hand in his large calloused one. I looked at our hands, intertwined with each other, wishing I had my camera so I could capture the moment forever. Just so I could prove to everyone around me that he still had something human-like inside of him.

I felt him staring at me, waiting for me to do something. Was he waiting to see if I would pull away? Once again, I felt myself build up a wall again. Was he playing a game with me again? His new thing was game playing. I watched him with the kids, playing games with their emotions, making them ask him over and over to pay attention.

I looked away and allowed him to lead me through the store like a good little girl.

Maybe I needed some Vitamin D. I longed to trust that maybe we were having a breakthrough. Maybe his brain had healed a little bit more. Or maybe, I chided to myself, I was searching for some kindness. I longed for love and friendship with him. To find the passion for each other we once had. I knew deep down what we had was killed the day he had his accident, but I still longed for it, searched for it. I longed to fix him. To fix us. To fix our family.

To fix everything.

Him holding my hand was just that, holding my hand, and I needed to remember that. I answered the questions he asked about Jenna's list, agreed to the toys we found and allowed him to lead me out of the store, gifts in hand.

"Can we talk?" he asked as we settled back into the car. The car he bought without consulting me. The car I hated because it wasn't him. The car that smelt of a fruity floral perfume – one that wasn't mine.

"Sure," I answered, keeping my tone light and airy, like how I taught myself to talk to him so I could avoid any fights.

"I would like to work on us," he stated. "I need to be honest with you. I've been doing some thinking, and I realize I've made a few mistakes. But I think I can change."

"I'm not sure we can work things out," I told him honestly, preparing myself for his anger. My body tensed up, my back straightened, and my inner voice told me to breathe. Breathe in, breathe out, wait for it...

"I realize I've done some messed up things. Sometimes I think everything is a lie. I can't remember much before the accident. I can't believe that you and I were ever more then we are now."

"We were so much more. You were so much more," I insisted, wishing he could see the memories I saw. Feel the love we shared.

"So you've told me." Doubt clouded his voice. He would never believe that we were in love.

"I'm not going to fight with you, Justin."

"Can you just let me talk? I hated you for months. I wanted nothing to do with you. Being around you was almost torture. I don't know why."

"I don't want to hear this."

"You were interfering with what I thought I wanted. I wanted freedom. I thought, and still do, that I was twenty-four. I feel like I should be twenty-four not thirty-eight."

"Justin, I've already heard this, and I don't want to hear it again. I don't want to hear any of this."

"You never tried to understand what I went through. You were never there for me. You always pushed me to do more then I wanted to. You pushed me away," he accused.

My spine went straighter, if possible. How dare he tell me I pushed him away. That I was never there for him.

"Excuse me? I wiped your ass for a month. Like actually wiped your ass. Wiped drool from your chin. Held your hand through the pain. I sat by your side for months. I made excuses for you, did your jobs—"

"All you think about is yourself. That's your problem."

"My problem is that my husband made a choice to ride his motorcycle without a helmet. My problem is that you don't deserve anything you have." My hand flew to my mouth. I got it then. He was abusive. He was a rapist. He was a threat to me and my children. He didn't deserve to have me sitting by his side.

"You're a fucking bitch. I'm sitting here, baring my soul to you, and it's still all about you. Fuck you!"

I lunged forward as he hit the gas and the car lurched ahead. My forehead smacked the dashboard. Pain shot through me, and the world dimmed.

His laughter cleared my thoughts. He didn't want to talk; he wanted to fight. He played me by holding my hand, playing nice, exclaiming he wanted to work on "us". He wanted a reaction, and I fell for it. I gave him exactly what he wanted.

I was foolish; I deserved what I got.