Don't go

A/N: This is a scene set in my story «Only», but with a change in POV. Henry is married to Abby with three kids. He got away with it all – almost.

XXX

If I let you in

you'll just want out.

If I tell you the truth

you'd vie for a lie

If I spill my guts

it would make a mess

we can't clean up

Say you'll never leave me cause I love you so much

Don't go

I can't do this on my own

(Bring Me the Horizon: Don't go)

XXX

He felt sick. The doctor's words were ringing in his ears, repeating like an echo of doom.

«This illness is not common at all, it usually manifests when both parents are closely related and carries the same alleles. The two of you are not cousins or related in any other way, are you?»

Related. Related. Closely related. God, it is my fault. His little son was about to die because of him. He felt guilty, more so than he had ever felt for killing those that got in his way. God, little JD, how ironic that you'll die because of my love for Abby, just like your namesake once did.

He could feel Abby look at him, and realized with a numbing insight that he wasn't able to hide his guilt. Not this time – no, God, I can't meet her eyes. The strength of her stare grew, and finally he raised his head, terrified, to look straight in her eyes. And his world crashed into pieces – she knew.

XXX

He remembered her first pregnancy, and how he had felt both immensely proud and mortally afraid. Alternating between the two feelings, he tried to hide his worries from her. At those times when his fear shone through, he tried to cover it up for her.

«It's normal to be worried, after all, this is our first child! I don't want you to feel pain, you know, and the birth...»

Shaking her head, she smiled at him: «I'm not scared of the pain. I know it'll be painful, and I'll deal with it. And I won't hate you for it, it's not your fault. Calm down, Henry!»

Cuddling into her at night, he would hold his arms protectively around her belly. His child, with the woman he'd killed their world for. Their love-child. Yet he was scared – would the child be healthy? What about diseases brought on by them being related? He had read all about the risks, but even though research seemed to agree that the probability for birth defects and diseases were low, it couldn't soothe his nagging worry. What if...

His relief when their son was born healthy and strong had been enormous – to the point that he mindlessly had agreed to Abby's wish to name their son Charlie after her dad. God, he hated that name! His firstborn son deserved a better name.

XXX

He was clutching the wheel, staring straight ahead. She'll leave me, now that she know. She'll take the kids with her, and then report me to the police. She'll hate me. Despise me. She will not want me anymore.

«Move over,» she said, «I'll drive home.»

He wasn't able to respond verbally. Instead, he got out the car, walked around it in a stiff, robot-like way, before getting into the passenger seat. He felt completely lost to the real world, absorbed in his darkest phantasies. Alone, without her, without her love, her warmth, deprived of being close to her and their family. No, he couldn't live like that. Better to kill them all, than letting them go. I'll never let her go.

XXX

He was standing on the doorstep to the kitchen, watching her as she made coffee, her head bowed, and her hands clutching the coffee pot much too hard. What is she thinking? When will she tell me that she'll leave me?

He deliberately kept his arms hanging loosely down, not grasping for the knife in his back pocket.

She walked up to him, and he tensed up, following her with his eyes. Leaning in to his chest, she wrapped her arms around him. He responded, almost convulsively, almost grabbing her. Is this the last time? Is it? The last time before her eyes would scream betrayal at me?

They stood like that for a long time, clinging to each other.

He swallowed. Images flickering in his mind: It will be almost like the way I killed Trish, except that it will be a world of difference. This is Abby, the love of my life, and there will be no excitement, only pain. Her shock, her disbelief, the terror in her eyes as I stab her, blood coming out of her mouth, the last frantic heartbeats – this will kill me. Can I even do it? Can I break her trust? His heart thundering in his chest, he clutched her desperately to him. I can do it, if only because her trust in me is already broken. It's better to kill her than lose her. Willing himself to wait, waiting for her to disown him, waiting to end it all.

At last she looked up at him. I'm panicking. Better do it quick. He let her go, and moved his right hand slowly to his back pocket. The kids – how should I kill them? Quick and easy – it mustn't be painful. His hand touched the knife.

Taking a deep breath, Abby said: «Henry. I don't want to know.»

He didn't say anything, just kept looking at her, not moving the hand that now held the knife. Know what? What do you mean, Abby? Just come to the point – tell me that you know, and tell me that you hate me. It might be easier if you do.

«I don't want to know anything. I can't live without you. I can't. You're the only one I have, your're the love of my life. My life has been broken two times too many, and I won't survive losing you. Don't tell me whatever it is you've done.»

God, is it true? Can it be? She'll forgive me? Am I redeemed? Does she really understand?

His voice was cracked and broken when he answered: «Whatever I did, I did for you. For us.»

«Ssssh,» she said. «I don't want to know. I love you, Henry, and I'll never leave you. Just don't tell me anything I can't live with.»

XXX

He had held her close the rest of the evening, and as they took their children, Charlie and Jenny to see little JD. To say goodbye. JD was pale and unconscious, not breathing by himself anymore, and the children were scared by the medical equipment. He felt such pain for little JD – this is my fault – and even more for putting Abby and the children through such horrors. How can I forgive myself?

The kids took a long time falling asleep in JD's room, and after that it took Abby even longer. He held her close until she was sound asleep, and then he got out from the hospital. I can't sit coped up here until JD dies – I have to do something - anything! Leaving the area, he went to his storehouse. The boarding knife felt appropriate for tonight. In a rundown district he found the perfect victim. A boy in his late teens, drugged into insensibility, sitting hunched up in a dark corner. Addicts make such great targets for me. No one really misses them. What would I do without them? Dragging the boy into a backyard, he carved him up in a bike shed. The boy never even woke from his intoxicated state, but he didn't mind: Tonight he wasn't interested in invoking fear. Tonight was all about taking his mind off JD, and to try to forget how close he had come to kill Abby. My love, my perfect wife, I should have known that you'd never leave me. I should have trusted you. And this cut, this is for JD, he thought as the head came off the lifeless body. Gathering the remains of the young addict in five plastic bags, he disposed of the remains in five different trash containers in the area. Wiping off his hands and face with his trusty anti-bac, he felt relieved. I'm ready to go back, now. I'm ready to face JD's death.

XXX

It had been months. Months since JD's funeral, and months since she'd allowed him to do more than holding her in his arms.

She still cried for JD at night when the children couldn't see, and she clung to him, but she hadn't allowed him to make love to her. He felt as he would burst, but he had wanted her to take the time she needed. But it was taking so long. Too long. Tonight he'd seduce her.

«Darling, won't you come to bed?» She had followed willingly, but he could see the little crease of worry appear on her brow when she saw the bedroom. He had outdid himself, tidied the room, changing the bedding to a dark red silk, lighting candles, champagne in a cooler, lots of roses – everything he could think of.

She tried to say: «Oh, Henry, this is lovely but...» He stopped her resolutely by kissing her passionately. Even though he had expected it, he felt hurt by her lack of response. Pulling back, she said: «I, I'm not sure if I can do this.»

Disgusted with himself for pressuring her, he put on his best, devastated expression, whispering: «Don't you love me anymore?»

Tears flooded her eyes, and she answered: «Of course, I love you more than anything, but... I'm not sure if I can do this.»

Kissing her shoulder, he mumbled: «I love you, I miss this, Abby, I want to be close to you, I need to know you want me.»

Her expression anguished, her voice faltered when she answered slowly: «Should we even do this anymore, Henry?»

He froze completely. I didn't expect this. What now?

«Henry, Henry – are you all right?»

Her voice seemed to come from far away, and he felt despair grow as an overwhelming wave. She looked at him, worried, with big, black eyes questioning him. She can't make love to me, knowing that I'm her brother. I need her! She must love me – but what can I do? I can't make her forget. He couldn't move, feeling the tendrils of the dark spiral of thoughts reaching out to him, pulling him down into visions of killing his family again. Don't go, Abby, don't go. After a long while her hands were stroking his face, and suddenly – she was tentatively kissing him.

Taking a deep breath and feeling as if life was returned to him, he kissed her back.

But later, as he came inside her, she cried.

The end.

A/N: Happily ever after – the perverted version.