Push (BXB)

Exhaustion

***Mak's POV***

I lay beside the love of my life. His touch is a constant source of comfort. I try to sleep. My head is a fucking mess. I don't even want to think about what just occurred.

I get no reprieve.

My head is a war zone. Ambien doesn't even help. I just lay here. Grey rubs my waist in his sleep. The touch is amazing, but I wonder how much sleep he is actually getting.

I almost killed a man. Okay, the word man is a loose interpretation. All the same. I actually shot a human being.

My stomach is in knots with that knowledge. I mean I was in danger. That does make it self defense. What makes it okay, though?

I run my hands over my face and try not to groan. My eyes are burning with heat from exhaustion. My skin tingles from sleep deprivation. My legs feel restless, the muscles jerking as I stay still.

I shift and roll over. I scrunch my eyes closed tightly as tears well up. I can't pin point why I have wet orbs. Probably because I'm so damn tired. Huffing quietly, I rock my legs back and forth. Grey groans and rolls over. He throws his arm over my waist and pulls me closely. He snuggles closer and I sigh.

I just want fucking sleep. Please!

I clamp my eyes tightly and pray to whoever listens up there. I just want peace. It can't be that much to ask.

Mr. Sandman decides to ignore my pleads for help.

Thoughts run marathons in my head. I can still smell that bastard. His sickly breath, of cigars and alcohol, filtered into my nose as he had ground himself on me. I shutter at the sickening memory. I'm so repulsed.

I lay awake as the entire day replays in my mind.

I should have never gone. I was so stupid. I should have listened to my guts. This would never have happened.

Carl would still be out there though. I find a little comfort in the fact that he is locked away. I groan when I realize a trial will follow.

Fuck! Does it ever end?

I'm so tired. I'm so exhausted from running for years. I'm so fed up with the bullshit hand that life dealt me. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to participate in this game a moment longer.

Why me?

Frustration builds the longer I lie on my side. I can't shake the scenes that play out in front of me.

I softly maneuver my body from Grey's hold. My heart hammers as I try desperately to escape the room without waking him. He's exhausted too. All of this is just too fucking much.

Walking outside of the penthouse, I quietly close the door behind me. I don't even know what I'm doing. I just need something, anything.

I walk along the perimeter of our gated community. Staring in front of me, the darkness surrounds me. Somehow, it is a mild comfort. I wrap my hands around my bare biceps. I guess they're still biceps at my size.

I look up at the velvet blackness above me. Somewhere up there, my guardian angel is recovering from a coronary. I feel sorry for the unlucky bastard that got stuck patrolling me.

What the fuck was I thinking shooting that gun?

What if I had been shot?

I think self deprecation is my new best friend.

I can't stand the thoughts that dance wildly thru my brain. I wish they just took an exit, stage left.

Mumbling to myself, chastising my stupidity, I shuffle my bare feet along the dew dampened grass. My toes curl with each step on to the wet plush greenery.