Worth the fight

anymore.   I thought I’d moved past it all, moved on with my life after more than a year of running in place.  But the nightmares are back.  I can’t sleep and god damn Preach won’t give me any more of the pills.
    She knows I’ve been avoiding her.  I’m ruining the one good thing that I’ve found in a very long time, because I’m afraid to close my eyes and see his face.  He haunts me.  Haunts me for what I did to him, but I fucking deserve it.   
    I’m on the other side of the gym listening to one of Preach’s lectures for the hundredth time, when she walks in.  I’m not expecting her, I don’t hear the door open or the sound of her voice, but somehow I feel her presence.  I turn around and look for her.  Our eyes find each other like magnets.  Fuck, she’s beautiful.  I love her in those god damn prissy looking suits she wears.  Her face is apprehensive at first, like she’s not sure if showing up unannounced is going to be welcome.  Jesus, I did that to her.  Made her feel that she may not be welcome.  What a total asshole I am. 
    She smiles at me from across the room and I can’t help but feel the first glimpse of light I’ve felt in days.  I watch her as she gets closer and see her face falter when she gets a good look at me.  I look like shit.  I haven’t shaved since before the fight and my eyes are dark from sleepless nights.  I’m pretty sure I’ve been wearing the same shirt for at least thirty-six hours and I’m wondering if I might also smell too. 
    “Hi.”  I see the concern in her eyes when she reaches me and speaks.
    “Hey.”
    “Figured if I didn’t ask, you couldn’t tell me not to come.”  She smiles at me apprehensively and it makes me want to reach over and kiss her so hard she’ll never doubt I want her near me.  But I don’t.  Instead I stand like an asshole and say nothing and just nod my head as if I can comprehend what is actually going on in that beautiful head of hers. 
    “Preach, do you mind if I steal him for a little bit?”  She turns to the bastard that was chewing me out a minute ago, who is now all smiles for her.
    “By all means, take him.  You can keep him for all I care.”  The second part is mumbled under his breath as Preach walks away, but we both hear it.
    “Can we go upstairs and talk?”   Her voice is low, sweet.
    I nod and lead the way.  I pull down the gate to the elevator to my loft and suddenly it’s just the two of us and the car feels small.  She smells so damn good.  Everything about her is good, unlike me.   I hate myself for wanting her so much, even though she deserves better.
    Elle puts her purse on the kitchen counter and takes a few minutes before she turns around to face me.  But when she does, she looks nervous.
    “I want you to talk to me.  You won’t let me in.”  Her voice is shaky, but when I look at her she squares her shoulders and digs deep for whatever she is working towards.
    “I don’t want to talk Elle.”  What does she want me to tell her?  That I need time to sort out the demons in my head?  The demons that I deserve to haunt me every hour of every day for the rest of my life?
    She takes two steps toward me, stopping just in front of me.  “I can help … and there’s grief counseling…and groups to help people going through things like this.”
    My response is a sardonic laugh and I can see immediately it’s the wrong reaction.  Elle’s face quickly changes from concerned to pissed off.  She crosses her arms in front of her chest and it looks like she is ready for a fight. 
    “You think it’s funny that I want to help?”
    “No I think it’s funny that you think you can help.”
    “I can help. But you have to let me.”
    “Elle, run while you have the chance.  You can’t fix me.  I’m not some project for you to take on like charity. You’re better off with someone who is more like you.”
                  Here eyes widen to saucers.  “More like me?  What does that mean? William? Is that what you’re telling me, I should go back to someone like William?”   Her voice is growing louder with each response.
    The mention of William’s name from Elle’s lips strike s me harder than any physical blow.  The thought of that pretty boy anywhere near my Elle makes me froth at the mouth.  I’m angry.  Angry at just hearing her say the words.  But maybe that’s really where she belongs.
    “You want William, Elle?”