Work Text:
“Would you even care if I died, Paul?”
Beth’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. They stung. He had no idea how to even respond to the question, but he knew what he should say, even if he didn’t really believe it.
“Beth, of course,” he muttered, looking down at his feet. “I care about you! I love you.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Beth said coldly. “Say it to my face, Paul. Look me in the eye and tell me you would care, that you love me.”
Paul struggled to raise his eyes to his girlfriend’s. The table separating them seemed to stretch, making the distance between them like a chasm.
In a sense he knew he couldn’t bear to see the expression on her face, but he knew her cries would only be met with a stern silence, her puffy eyes met with a glare.
He didn’t mean to resent her, but it was so hard not to. Everything the doctors said not to do, Beth did. Between the pills and the shooting, Beth just wasn’t there anymore. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.
“Say it!” She shouted, picking up a plate and chucking it at him, narrowly breaking across his face. Paul dodged it and silently stormed over to Beth. She stiffened when he put his hands on her shoulders, but he pretended not to notice.
“Yes, I would miss you. You are the love of my life, Elizabeth Childs.”
God knows how much Beth wanted to believe him, how much she needed to. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend to believe him anymore, couldn’t delude herself any longer. Beth’s eyes pooled with tears and she turned around and spat in his face.
“You’re a shit liar, Dierden.”
She scooted her chair out and disappeared into the bedroom. She emerged from it with Paul’s suitcase and a handful of his clothes.
“If you don’t love me then just leave.”
“And where the hell would I go, huh?” He shouted.
“I don’t know, to be honest I really don’t care. Anywhere but here would be great, though.” Beth threw a shirt at him. Missing its target, the designer button up made its way into the bowl of pasta lying on the table.
Paul sighed heavily and walked up to Beth, but backed away after she raised a large butcher’s knife to him.
“Don’t touch me.” Beth shouted, her face turning bright red with anger. “Don’t you dare!”
Paul raised his hands up. “What are you going to do, stab me?” He sneered.
“I don’t know, Paul, just- leave!” Beth took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. “Just leave.”
“Are you kidding? Why are you doing this to me- to us.”
“There was never an ‘us,’ Paul, only me.” She bitterly smirked and looked him in the eye. “You’ve certainly made that clear tonight.”
Paul stepped towards the suitcase hesitantly, weary of the knife in his girlfriend’s hand. He glanced through it, to make sure it was packed with at least a few days worth of clothes, and shook his head in astonishment. “This is my apartment.”
“This is my life.”
Paul’s eyes shot up and met Beth’s anger with suspicion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Beth stared at him, challenging him to question her. “You know what it means.”
She walked past him and picked up the picture of them on their 3rd year anniversary. She looked at it for a moment before placing it face down on the table.
“Just this once, Paul,” Beth tearfully whispered, “Just this once let me win. Let me have a chance to be happy.” She back sat down and looked at Paul expectantly.
He took the suitcase and zipped it. “I’m going to Coady’s for a few days, just long enough for you to clear your head and to-”
“Don’t you dare turn this around on me, Paul, don’t you dare.”
Paul nodded slightly and picked up a pen and paper. “I’m gonna write all this down so you don’t forget, okay?”
Beth clenched her jaw in irritation. “I’ll remember, I’m not a child.”
“Of course you’re not, Beth. Without the pills and everything else you’ll remember.” Did he know she’s been using again?
Her grip around the knife tightened. “I don’t think this is the time for that.” Her voice trembled.
Paul sighed and passed her the note. “I’ll be back on Monday-”
“Don’t be surprised if the locks change.” The amount of malice in her voice surprised even Beth herself.
“Then in that case I’ll be back on Sunday.” He pulled the suitcase off of the table and slowly walked to the door. “I love you,” he said unconvincingly.
“Yeah,” Beth said. “I loved you, too.”
Paul paused at the door as though he wanted to say something more, but decided against it.
As soon as she was sure he’d left, Beth relinquished her death grip on the knife and tossed it into the sink. She stood and looked at the photo again. She was wearing the blue dress Paul had gotten her that Valentine’s Day. The waiter that took the photo had to turn the flash off the dress sparkled so much.
Beth smiled at the memory before unclipping the picture from the frame and throwing the photo into the trash can.
“That wasn’t ever gonna be your life, Childs.” she said to herself. She walked, almost ceremoniously, to the bathroom and opened up her medicine cabinet. The transparent orange bottles seemed to call to her, begging her to give in. She would’ve loved to say she resisted, but she was tired of all the lies. Tired of life in general, if she were being honest.
Beth took out four bottles out and tossed them into her purse, though not before popping a few pills into her hand. She’d read somewhere that dry swallowing pills burned holes on the inside of your throat. Oh well. Grabbing her purse and keys, she went out the door. Next stop, the train station.