6Felix didn't care that he and his lady were going through a rough patch. He loved her all the same.
Every couple, he reasoned, goes through that phase where the people who say they love each other want nothing more than to strangle each other. I mean, what else could he expect when they, two polar opposites of each other in height, eras, personality, tastes, and even jobs, decided to pronounce their lives to loving each other and living together? It was okay to go through a rough patch.
He knew that Tamora must have been really stressed from work, because the fights would always happen when she got home. And when someone has a job as stressful as hers, the person is going to be a little…pardon his language…irritated. Quick to snap. Testy.
He always just listened to her rant was over small things, like whether the dishes were done or that there was mud in the penthouse, and defended himself the best he could.
He loved her, and was going to stick it out. Every couple had rough patches.
Then, one night, he went to bed early, annoyed with her yelling at him. He awoke from a tame nightmare to find…she wasn't there.
Worried, he threw the blue comforter off and gazed about the dark, simple, small bedroom.
She was nowhere to be found.
He quickly left the room and searched the house till he heard a slight snore from the couch. Perplexed, he tip-toed to the furnished living room and found her sleeping form curled on the green sofa.
He wanted to wake her up for answers, but decided against it. It would just make things worse. He could ask her the following evening…if she didn't start a fight first.
But it would never last that long.
He went back to bed, distraught, depressed, confused…hurt. He was in so much pain his heart ached. He tried as hard as he could to deny the obvious, but even he is not that naïve.
He woke up early to catch her on her way out. "Ma'am?" He asked. "Would you like some breakfast first?"
"No, Fix-it!" She snapped.
"What is going on?!" He finally demanded, his voice tinged with a small, desperate whine. "You're constantly snapping at me, nowadays. You slept on the couch last night. You…you act like you hate me! What am I doing wrong?!"
"You're not doing anything wrong," she stated, her tone softer, her scowl smaller. "I've just…been putting off what needs to be done."
"What's that?" He asked, more concerned than angry.
"…I'm leaving you, Felix," she stated in monotone, as if she was telling him to do the laundry.
He could feel his heart breaking. It tore into two, four, six, eight, ten pieces. He couldn't hold back the tears beginning to form in his eyes or the drop in his jaw. His arms fell limp, any attempt of dignity flung aside. He looked down, trying to unchoke his throat, before back at her. "Why? What did I do?"
She shrugged. "I just don't love you, anymore."
As she walked away for the last time, he didn't think he'd ever feel a more unbearable pain in his chest in his entire existence.
He didn't know that she would disappear forever. He didn't know that the second she stepped into her game, she ignored every soldier in her way, slammed the door to her bunker and punched the walls till they were dented. He didn't know that the only other time she ever let a single tear slip her eyes was on the day Dr. Scott was eaten.
He didn't know that, on that day, her creators made her destined to die.