Part II

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He wasn't quite sure why she blamed him for the events that had taken place. He wasn't a scientist, he couldn't cure diseases or cancer. He wasn't a descendent of Dr. Grey (okay, I may be watching too much TV, be said to himself)  He was a mediocre, white-color male that had went through the same shitty year that she had but somehow he was forced to take the blame. He stomped around the empty and hollow house, knowing she could hear him below. He knew what she was watching when he heard the crash; he inwardly sighed. Most definitely a Jameson bottle. He remembered that last Easter like it was that morning. He remembered dressing them in their matching but different suits. They had let them pick their own colors, they were so smart. And then the bruises began, and the head complaints. And then the scans and the visits to the ER. It all happened so fast, like an avalanche. He knew why she blamed him. His side carried the gene but why would he have ever told her that? She worried about a fly on the wall, for Christs Sake. He could hear her climbing the stairs  and he knew she wouldn't speak to him. She hadn't in 3 weeks, 2 days and 5 hours. He tried everyday to get her back but somehow he knew in his heart he had lost her with his boys. She wanted him gone but maybe, just maybe, he could make her remember. Because he knew this wasn't her. She was asleep and he would wake her up, make her fall in love again. She walked through the door and for a split second glanced his way and he saw her crystal green eyes pierce through him, cold as ice, and she retreated upstairs. He had to act fast, she was far past asleep. He had finally seen what he feared the most: hatred. He still didn't understand; perhaps he never would. But he would still try, she was still Leann: the woman he'd loved since he was 17. But how do you wake up someone who doesn't want to be awake anymore?

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