Johnny POV

During that one week spent away from Lydia, I really used that time to sober up and reflect on my actions. That night… that night…I had did what I had done because I was angry. Not at her, but at myself. I knew deep down that she was clearly right and I was mad at myself for being as pathetic as she thought of me to be. That night, she pulled me down from my high horse and called me out for all my bad habits, something no one has ever dared to do before. And hitting rock bottom really does something to a person.

Somehow, it hurt when she didn’t return home that entire week. Even though she was always silent when she was home, her absence was still sorely felt, the silence now amplifying to one that threatened to crush me with its weight. I might be crazy but I miss the dirty looks she’ll throw at me over the dining table and her sarcastic remarks whenever I tried to disturb her. I hate to say this, but a part of me missed her.

Another part of me felt guilty towards her. I might have been drunk, but I definitely remember the times when she would bail me out and even taking the effort to clean me up and put me back in bed. On those days, her face is the last thing I remember before sleep takes over my mind. Sometimes, I’ll find hangover medicine and a glass of water by my bedside the next morning, no doubt her doing; I suppose on those days she was feeling a little bit nicer to me. But eventually they stopped and at that point in time, I should have noticed that her patience with me was running thin. But I was an oblivious fool, and I continued with my hideous ways. I thought she wouldn’t care about what I did; she certainly looked that way with her cold face and fiery eyes. But I failed to see the care behind them, and eventually the pain. Even when I was overseas hiding, I would see her face appearing on the news, the reporters like chasing hounds and her, their innocent, trapped prey. Back then, I did realise she was only in such a position because of my foolish ways and I felt g