A/N: Well, this is it. This is short, again, but I didn't want to delay on
this any more. And I wanted to thank everyone who's reviewed. It really
means a lot to me that so many people liked my story. You guys are the
best! --Larissa
When I took Mark to the hospital, it took them a mere half an hour to bandage his arm. He needed a few stitches, or else it would have been even quicker. But then they started asking how he had hurt himself, and when Mark told them, ashamed, his eyes boring into the floor, they had him stay a week in the psychiatric ward.
He was allowed visitors, though, and I was there every day, one to three. He couldn't leave the hospital, but we could walk around a bit. I took him down to the cafeteria and bought him coffee, or we'd take the elevator up to the roof and look down at the city. One time I brought my guitar in and played my song for him. He cried when I finished, and I hugged him, trying not to think about how I'd almost lost the best thing I had in my life.
Which brings me to now. We're all gathered in the loft again, just like old times. Maureen and Joanne bickering over whose turn it was to buy the milk. Angel sitting on Collins' lap, and Mimi feeding grapes to her new boyfriend Justin. Mark and I are on the couch, his head resting against my shoulder, my hand rumpling his hair.
It's funny, really, how right this feels. I feel downright foolish when I think of how long I've resisted it. And ashamed when I think of the hell I put Mark through.
He's very forgiving, though. Much more than I would have been in his situation. I'm not sure I deserve him, but I'm determined to prove his faith in me. I promised him that. "I'm going to make everything up to you," I'd whispered to him as he cried in my arms. "I'm not going to let anything else hurt you."
He still has to attend counseling once a week for six months. We've developed a ritual-I meet him after each session, and we go out to dinner. I don't know how I got so lucky as to have someone like him love me.
I think Mark's going to be okay. What's more, I think I'm finally going to be okay too. We found that sign after all. We found our new beginning.
When I took Mark to the hospital, it took them a mere half an hour to bandage his arm. He needed a few stitches, or else it would have been even quicker. But then they started asking how he had hurt himself, and when Mark told them, ashamed, his eyes boring into the floor, they had him stay a week in the psychiatric ward.
He was allowed visitors, though, and I was there every day, one to three. He couldn't leave the hospital, but we could walk around a bit. I took him down to the cafeteria and bought him coffee, or we'd take the elevator up to the roof and look down at the city. One time I brought my guitar in and played my song for him. He cried when I finished, and I hugged him, trying not to think about how I'd almost lost the best thing I had in my life.
Which brings me to now. We're all gathered in the loft again, just like old times. Maureen and Joanne bickering over whose turn it was to buy the milk. Angel sitting on Collins' lap, and Mimi feeding grapes to her new boyfriend Justin. Mark and I are on the couch, his head resting against my shoulder, my hand rumpling his hair.
It's funny, really, how right this feels. I feel downright foolish when I think of how long I've resisted it. And ashamed when I think of the hell I put Mark through.
He's very forgiving, though. Much more than I would have been in his situation. I'm not sure I deserve him, but I'm determined to prove his faith in me. I promised him that. "I'm going to make everything up to you," I'd whispered to him as he cried in my arms. "I'm not going to let anything else hurt you."
He still has to attend counseling once a week for six months. We've developed a ritual-I meet him after each session, and we go out to dinner. I don't know how I got so lucky as to have someone like him love me.
I think Mark's going to be okay. What's more, I think I'm finally going to be okay too. We found that sign after all. We found our new beginning.