A/N: I've been really fluffy lately, and we don't want that! Angst! Angst! Also fun fact, I've been writing this since March. I've rewritten this so many times it's honestly amazing. It physically hurt me to write this.

T/W: Cutting, blood, suicidal thoughts, angst, asshole husbands. Please skip if you can't deal with that stuff!

"Go away, Alexander." Eliza whispered softly, tears glistening in her eyes. She sniffed, waiting for his footsteps to disappear into nothingness. She waited, but they never went away.

"I said, go away Alexander. Now." She repeated, this time more firmly. She couldn't bear to open the door that she leaned against, she couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. After everything he told her, she couldn't bear to be in his presence.

Eliza heard a sniff from outside the door, and heard a shuffling around.

"Betsey-" He tried one last time, but that sent a trigger off in Eliza's head.

"Do not call me that. You have no right to use that nickname. From now on, you will call me Elizabeth, and if needed, call me Elizabeth Schuyler. Do you understand?" She cut him off, her heart slowly breaking inside of her. She heard her husband's breath hitch, almost as if a knife sliced him in half.

"Y-yes, Elizabeth. I-I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." He told her in a small tone, his voice hoarse.

"Save your apologies, I don't want them. That is all, Colonel." She said, firmly ending the conversation.

Eliza heard Alexander shuffling away from the door. It pained her to hear him leave her, but at the same time relieved her. She felt like she had been stabbed, like she had been torn apart, like she had been burned.

Her husband, an adulterer? This is what Angelica warned about, and she didn't listen. She didn't think it was possible.

God was she wrong.

Eliza shook hard, letting out loud, pained sobs. She remained leaning against the door, echos of past loves and cries released from her lips. The world stopped spinning. It felt cold and distant. Unfamiliar..

Her love had shattered into thousands of little pieces, each one sharper than the last. The weight of the world rest on her shoulders, along with the shatters of her poisoned love for her ruinous husband.

Each shard seemed to prick her deeply, each wound that was caused by it seemed to make the pain go away for a bit.

Only a bit.

Eliza studied the broken vanity. The mirror that was once whole lay in millions of pieces. She held a shard of the mirror in her dainty, cold hand unknowingly.

She glanced at the tiny red pricks in her arm. The blood poked outside of her pale skin, revealing itself to the world in an unforgiving manor.

Each cut was more satisfying than the last. Each drop of blood that rolled down her arm more crimson. Each painful prick seemed to ease her mind more, and she felt the stress leaving her. The tiny slits on her arm burned with each dig.

The small streams of blood rolled off her arm and onto the wooden floor beneath her. Each drop was horrifying and calming at the same time. She could see the warm, crimson liquid oozing out of her skin. Each pin prick satisfied her even more. Her skin paled to a ghostly white as she lost more and more blood.

Eliza glanced at her nightgown, seeing the stains the blood left. She abruptly dropped the mirror shard, and her hands flew to her face in dismay, shame, and disgust.

How could she have done this to her body? How could she have let this happen?

Oh, right.

The broken angel that laid on the ground, surrounded by her own guilt and dismay forced herself to get up and face the world. She felt tiny stings on her feet, and realized that she was standing on the mirror shards.

Her emotional pain seemed to evaporate into thin air, until she saw the pool of warm, crimson blood flow from under her feet. She stepped off of the area, only causing more pain from the pressure of the shards digging into her skin. Eliza quickly moved to the bed, where she began to pick out each cut mirror out of her feet. Each mirror seemed to signify someone.

Her mother...

Her father...

Her sisters...

Her brothers...

Her first born child...

Her children...

Her lady friends...

Him...

Him.

Everyone of which she failed. It felt like a stab to hear it in her thoughts, but it was true. All of it.

She failed at life. What would her father say? What would her mother say? Her children would be ashamed of her, of the mother that gave birth to them. They had every right to be. But the most pressing question of all was what he would say.

What would he say?

Why had she failed him? As a wife, she tried so hard and it wasn't enough. As a mother she tried so hard, and it wasn't enough. She wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. Nothing was enough for him. It would never ever be enough. He couldn't stop, it wasn't in his nature. He won't stop, not even for her.

She will never be good enough for him, or this world.

Eliza ripped the last shard out of her foot as she realized this. The blood trickled down in a narrow stream, the red leaving a small stain. It dropped onto the wood floor, leaving a bigger splatter. Eliza clenched onto the shard tighter, causing the sharp edges to puncture her skin and leave even bigger blood stains. The warm blood oozed out around the shard and her hand. Her bloody fingerprints were all that were left on the diamond.

She released her tight grip on the mirror, gazing into her eyes. Her face was pale, and her eyes were swollen and puffy. Tears stained her once porcelain-looking face, almost like scars. For a split second she wanted to drive the damn piece through her body, tearing it to shreds.

No.

She flung the piece across the room, and it hit the wall with a small thud. Eliza got up, despite the searing pain flying up from her feet, and walked to where a washcloth and water pitcher sat on her vanity. She dipped the cloth in the cool, dark water and cleaned the small slits on her arm, leaving nothing more but fading scars.

She cleaned her feet, her hand, her face, and her mind, growing stronger from the state of shock and depression she just went through. Eliza looked at the now pink rag ashamed before cleaning it with the water, turning it a strange, pearly white again. Funny how the cloth could do that, but she couldn't.

She tiptoed to the corner of the room, where her broom lay, and began to sweep the mirror pieces. The setting of the warm, fiery sun reflected off of the broken shards, telling Eliza that she had been in her room for over 5 hours now.

The broken mirror shards now laid in a pile on the dark, wooden floor. The light slowly was sucked out of the room, and a shadowy, mysterious dark cloak filled the cold, lifeless room. The cold prickled Eliza's skin, making her shutter from the breeze. She swept the pile of reflective regret into the corner, knowing she'd pick it up later.

Eliza tiptoed over towards her dresser, where she carefully slipped on a turquoise nightrobe. She crawled into her bed, and laid there. Thinking. Processing what had just happened. It scared her. It hurt her. But there was one more question on her mind.

Why? Why did he cheat?

Why was she not good enough?

She didn't have the strength to ask him himself. Not yet, at least. While laying there, she decided that she needed to take the children with her to her parents house. Back to The Pastures. Back to her true home.

Away from him.

It would be a good time to leave too, seeing as yellow fever was hitting New York City once again. The children didn't need to be exposed to that. But still, Alexander didn't need to either.

It was all such a confusing mess. She convinced herself that she hates the man she married. He did something unforgivable, and she would need time.

But did she really hate him? She still cares about him. He seems...genuine...when he apologizes. So no, she doesn't hate him. But she isn't ready to forgive him. She may never be ready. She may forgive him for God's sake, or even the children's sake. But she may never forgive him for her sake.

Her thoughts were ripped from her head when she heard the cries of her tiny newborn son. He was in his crib downstairs, and nobody was down there to quiet him. Oblivious to everything around her, she hastily shot out of bed and sprinted downstairs, not caring about the searing pain of her raw, cut feet.

As Eliza ran down the stairs, she noticed the room became eerily quiet. The crying had stopped. Eliza ran even faster, not caring if she broke something or tripped, which thank god she did not. She rounded the corner to make out a figure hunched over, shushing and slowly rocking James.

Her adrenaline slowed down, and she began to sigh of relief. He was okay. Her heart melted at the sight of her husband and her child together, Alexander calming the tiny boy down.

She had always admired the fact that he cared and deeply loved his children, something that wasn't often common in men. Perhaps it was due to his absence of a loving father that he acted this way, but she still cherished it nonetheless.

The warmness that was there before seemed to evaporate quickly as she remembered everything that happened before. She regained a cold expression, and felt her demeanor shift into a stonier position. The floorboards creaked, and Alexander's head shot up.

"I-I-um-" He stammered, not quite knowing what to say. Eliza felt the same way. She got a good look at him, and noticed that he looked just as miserable as she did. His hair was disheveled, and his face was unshaven. He looked tired, the bags under his eyes darkening. She noticed a few wrinkles, and that he looked paler than usual. He stood up, James still in his arms.

"I was coming to check on James." Eliza said quietly, still wearing the same expression. Alexander nodded.

"He's fine now." Alexander told her, looking down.

"Can I have my son?" She asked, although it was more of a command than a question. Alexander quickly gave her James and went back to his spot.

Eliza held James tightly, and as if he could sense her uneasiness, he squeezed her finger. In response she kissed his forehead and rocked him slowly, singing a soft lullaby.

Eliza moved James to his crib, not saying another word to her husband until she reached the door frame. She looked back at him, and he glanced up hopefully.

"I've decided that the children and I will be staying at the Pastures with my parents for the summer, and that we won't return until at least September." She told him, breaking her heart and his. It was what had to be done.

Alexander's hopeful expression changed into one of shock and hurt. He nodded slowly, tears welling up in his eyes. He avoided her gaze, not wanting her to see his tears.

"I will arrange for a coach to pick you up on Friday." said Alexander, as much as it pained him to tell her. She nodded.

It seemed like they both wanted to say more, but decided against it. Eliza slowly nodded again, swallowing a lump in her throat. She couldn't take the tension anymore.

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary." And she turned outside of the door, trying to stop the tears that overflowed her eyes.