She knows I’m here. The camera probably alerted her twenty minutes ago when I arrived. I can’t find it in me to get out and go inside. Who knows what will happen when I walk through that door. Beth could be anyone at any moment.
During their confrontation, Scarlett said she remained calm,for the most part. She didn’t tell me what set her off, but the deep, nail-shaped wounds on her arm and cut on her cheek warned me of the severity. If she was willing to wound a girl that she doesn’t know, what is she going to do to me?
I can’t worry about that now. It doesn’t matter. What does, is Scarlett and the panic taking control of her system. I promised to take care of her, and that starts with Beth.
On an average day, I start with a greeting, calling out her name as I enter inside. That isn’t the case today. I can barely unclench my jaw so much as call out her name.
I can hear her humming in the kitchen, pots, and pans clanking while the aroma of butter-herb steak and mashed potatoes fills the air.
Beth doesn’t cook, never has. I’ve tried to get her to help me a few times before, but she calls it“a poor man's job.”Not something manicured hands should handle. So why now? Probably as a joke, since I know she isn’t trying to make shit work between us suddenly.
“Ah. You’re home,” she says merrily, slapping a cleaver through the meat. I watch its blood fall from the cutting board onto the pristine white floors. It feels like an omen, a warning for what's to come. What that is, I’m not too sure, but it can’t be good. No, this is sure to end badly.
Throwing my case on the end of the island, I take the wooden top of the chair, gripping it in my fierce hold until my muscles cramp and ache. “Elizabeth-”
“We’re going away this weekend. I’m having the cabin in Lockwood cleaned now. So why don’t you go upstairs and pack and then we’ll head up there later tonight, spend the week by the stream. How's that sound?”
It sounds like what I’ve been begging her for these past few years. Funny, now she decides it’s a good idea.
“What did you do?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks, slowly slicing another strip of steak. Her gaze never wavers from mine. Beth knows what I’m asking. She just gets this fucking high by forcing me to say it.
But not today. I’m not going to give her that satisfaction. “You know what I’m talking about, Beth. What did you do?”
“Theodore, I really don-”
“Tell me what you fucking did!”I roar, pounding my fist on the sparkling marble. I don’t yell, have never even raised my fucking voice to Beth. But, all that patience, it’s gone now, and whatever fucking game she’s playing, I won’t let her win.
The knife freezes mid-cut, eyes locked on the tender slab before gradually rolling to my face. Her expression is blank, but I know Beth enough to register the shock in her blue eyes. It always darkens the color before the rage settles in and turns it black.
With a swift motion, Beth stabs the cleaver into the wooden cutting board. Its forceful impact vibrates the entire counter, rattling my bones while her glare attempts to fluster my strength.
“You want to know what I did?! What about whatyoudid! You sick, fuckingpervert! You’re fucking achild, Theodore! A fucking kid!” Throwing the apron off her chest, she reaches behind her, struggling to pull something out of her jeans back pocket.
Balling them in her fists, Beth hurls the folded sheets of paper in my face, continuing. “Real nice fucking form here,baby! Maybe if you fucked me like this, I wouldn’t need Joshua! Or Ryan! Or Bobby, Charlie, and James! Maybe if you were a real fucking man, you’d be enough!”
I ignore all the men she throws in my face and concentrate on the images in my hand. My fury grows as I tear through picture after picture. Every single second I spent with Scarlett is right here, documented clear as day. My cooking, her laughing, our kisses and touching, everything leading up to that one perfect moment, here for Beth to use. Each one is worse than the last, depicting Scarlett in a bad light while I, for the most part, remain concealed.
“Why would you do this? How the fuck did you even get these?!” I shout, throwing them back in her face before I start ransacking the kitchen. One of the images was taken from behind while we were enjoying the meal I made, which means there’s a camera hidden somewhere on the back counter.
She gets in my way as I rush to it, blocking my path while her palms slap and claw against my chest and face. “How fucking old is she, Theodore!? Huh?! Is that why you don’t want to fuck me? You like little girl pussy instead!?”
Beth shoots insults and slurs like a fucking gun, shattering holes into my chest. She wants to push me, see how far she can take it before I snap. I don’t allow her words to slow me down. Instead, my muteness provokes her more. Soon enough, the punches follow, and when those don’t work, Beth begins slicing me in the jaw with her sharpened claws while her feet try to kick between my thighs.
Gritting my teeth, I take the pain. Never in my life have I put my hands on a woman, but fucking shit, do I want to throw her across the room. Not to hurt her, but to get her away from me. Our fights can get bad, but when Beth’s like this, she’s capable of getting downright rabid.
Closing her eyes as she swings toward my face, I duck and grab her by the waist, quickly flinging her behind me while I race to the counter. Her tiny fists pummel my back as I toss things to the floor.
Where the fuck is it?!
With everything lying on the ground, I’m left clueless. All that’s remaining is a couple of decorative vases and a blender. I’m ready to let them shatter, when something shiny captures my attention.
Right there, in front of the refrigerator, a little black magnet pointed directly toward the center island. I pluck it off the surface just as Beth slices down my face with her nails.
A scorching trail of blood drips down my skin at her assault. Hissing in pain, I bat her away, shoving the magnet in front of her face. “You’ve been fucking spying on me?! For how long?!”
I don’t wait for a response before I slam it to the ground and stomp on it with my boot, splintering the camera into dozens of pieces.
