Confrontation

Emily's POV

As I sat in the doctor's room, drowning in my sorrows, Linda's voice broke through the silence. "Emily, Blake is here to see you," she announced, opening the door and interrupting my thoughts.

Immediately, I felt a surge of emotions overwhelm me. Frustration, anger, and sadness all mixed together, making me feel sick. I didn't want to see him, not after everything that had happened. But Linda insisted, telling me that he refused to leave until I came out.

Reluctantly, I stood up and made my way to the front desk where Blake was waiting. His appearance matched his shattered state of mind, with bloodshot eyes and dishevelled hair.

"What do you want?" I asked, my arms folding defensively across my chest.

Blake straightened up, dragging his hands through his messy hair. "Thank you, for taking care of my mother," he said, his words devoid of any apology.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger at his lack of remorse. "How is she?" I inquired, my voice laced with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"In rehab. I booked her in this morning," he replied, his tone distant and detached.

"Good," I responded curtly, turning away, ready to retreat back to the safety of the ED.

But his voice stopped me in my tracks. "So that's it?" he yelled, frustration evident in his voice. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, remembering the technique he had taught me to control my emotions before I go off like a lunatic and potentially lose my job.

I turned to face him, my eyes piercing through his dishevelled appearance. "You left me with your mother who overdosed," I began, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "What if she had died? Do you really think I would have been able to handle that after my own mother died of an overdose? Don't you think I would have wanted to help my mother? Do you have any idea how I felt while I was helping your mother? And you just decided to go off on a drinking spree and leave me."

My words hung in the air, the weight of the truth sinking in. My veins pulsed with anger, my emotions reaching a boiling point. But amidst the fury, I couldn't help but also feel a sense of relief. Finally, I had let out the pent-up emotions that had been festering within me.

He kept quiet, with still no apology. I sighed and turned around to walk away.

"Don't walk away from me, Em!" Blake's desperate voice echoed in my ears as I stood with my back to him, refusing to face the pain that threatened to consume me.

"You promised to never break me," I finally responded, my voice filled with a mixture of anger and hurt. "And yet, you did the worst thing possible. You left me with a drug addict, and I had to save her. So forgive me if I'm not in the mood to commit to a promise you never intended to keep."

I could feel his eyes boring into my back, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I walked briskly towards the entrance of the Emergency Department, determined to bury the burning pain in my heart. Linda noticed my distress and asked if everything was okay. I simply nodded, not trusting my voice to convey the turmoil within me.

Once inside the chaotic environment of the ED, I threw myself into my work. Filing paperwork, attending to patients, anything to keep my mind occupied and prevent that haunting image of Blake's mother from replaying in my mind. The memory of her throwing up and crying, overwhelmed by the guilt of not being able to save her daughter, haunted me. And Blake, in his grief, blamed her for walking out of his life.

I understood his pain. I knew he had a terrible childhood, filled with neglect and abuse. But that didn't excuse him for leaving me with his broken mother. I knew she had hurt him, but I couldn't help but empathize with her. How could she not be affected by the loss of her daughter, especially since his father had never wanted her in the first place? How was she supposed to act?

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice the passing of time. It was only when Michell approached me and asked if I was going home that I realized how late it had gotten. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was already two hours past the end of my shift.

"Oh, I didn't notice the time," I replied, forcing a smile to hide the real reason behind my lingering presence. There was a part of me that didn't want to face the emptiness of my home, the silence that only amplified the ache in my heart.

"Come, let's go to dinner, my treat," he offered, his voice laced with concern. I initially declined, not wanting to burden him with my troubles, but ultimately gave in. After all, a distraction sounded enticing right about now. I grabbed my jacket and followed Michell outside, hoping that this dinner would provide some respite from the chaos that had consumed my life.

As we stepped into the cool evening air, I was taken aback by a familiar voice cutting through the silence. "So this is your promise to never leave?" Blake's voice echoed, filled with a mix of desperation and anger. Had he seriously been waiting here for me? Before I could respond, he continued, his frustration bubbling over. "Just give me a minute." I said to Michell, silently pleading for his understanding. "What are you doing?" I asked, clearly confused by the sudden outburst.

"Waiting for you, but clearly you just like the fucking rest," Blake spat out, drawing the attention of those nearby. My heart sank as I realized the weight of his words. Everyone always seemed to leave him, and now it seemed that I was no exception. Desperate to diffuse the tension, I tried to reassure him. "I'm not going on a date, he works with me and we're just having dinner."

Blake's anger only intensified as he retorted, "Yeah, and I just fucked a girl!" His words pierced through me like a knife, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. The pain was unbearable, and I could feel my world crumbling around me.

"Go home, Blake," I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. The words escaped my lips, carrying with them a mixture of pain and fear. I turned away from him, not wanting to witness the destruction he was capable of. The weight of his anger hung heavy in the air, suffocating me with its intensity. As I walked away, I heard the sound of glass shattering, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil.

Michell, concerned for my well-being, took a step closer, his eyes filled with worry and compassion. But I shook my head, silently pleading for him to stay away. I knew that intervening between Blake and I would only escalate the situation further. "I'm sorry. I will see you at work tomorrow," I said to Michell, my voice filled with resignation.

"Please call when you need me," Michell offered, his concern evident in his eyes. I nodded, though deep down, I knew I could never bring myself to call. The thought of reaching out would only exacerbate the pain that already consumed me. Besides, I knew Blake would never physically harm me.

The emotions swirling within me were a tangled mess, threatening to consume my sanity. I had never seen Blake like this before. I had witnessed him scared, durable, and even a jackass at times, but never angry. His anger was like a force of nature, unpredictable and destructive. It frightened me to the core.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice trembling as I desperately tried to break through his wall of anger. But he remained silent, his gaze fixed on a distant point. I pleaded for him to look at me, to see the pain and confusion etched on my face. Yet, his disappointment was evident as he finally turned around to face me.

"Please don't look at me like that, you left me with your addicted mother," I said, my arms instinctively folding around me, creating a barrier against his impending outburst. I had no desire to fall at the other end of his rage.

"You think I wanted to leave you with my mother? Emily, I fucking panicked. I am sorry that I left you with her, but you seemed to have handled it," he retorted, fueling my rage at this moment. How could he belittle what I had gone through? How could he think I had handled it?

"Handle it? You think I handled your addict mother. Blake, I barely saved her. If I hadn't found Narcan in my bag, she would've died," I snapped, unable to contain my frustration any longer. The words hung in the air.

"You know what, go home. I have had enough of this day, and clearly, you have no remorse for what you did," I said, my voice laced with anger and hurt. I turned around and walked away, hoping to escape the toxic atmosphere that had engulfed us.

He spun me around to face him, his hands gripping my shoulders firmly. I winced at the pressure, feeling the pain seep through my body. "Don't walk away, Emily," he pleaded, frustration evident in his eyes. But I couldn't stay, not when his anger threatened to consume both of us.

"You're hurting me," I managed to say, my voice barely audible. The realization of his actions seemed to dawn on him, his eyes widening in shock and regret. He quickly let go of my shoulders, his hands trembling.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry," he stammered the sincerity in his voice piercing through the chaos that surrounded us.

"Just go home, Blake," I whispered, my voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and sadness. I turned away, tears streaming down my face, hoping that he would respect my plea and not follow me.