"Shut up," I growl, cutting him off. "You know that's not what I fucking meant. Just be here tomorrow morning. Watch her, stay with her, and keep me updated, butdo notfucking touch her."
He starts to ask why he's not needed today, but I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket. I stomp down the street, angry with myself for being riled up over the conversation and the thought of Leo with Alicia.
"Come on, Jelly," I mutter, gently tugging the dog away from the lamppost she's stopped to sniff at. "I'll even get you a treat if we can make it to the park and back in five minutes."
She bounds towards me, eagerly wagging her bushy tail, and my lips quirk slightly at the sight.
I still despise the little creature with the ridiculous pink bow woven into her fur, but each day, she's gradually wriggling her way into my good books.
Chapter Thirty
Alicia
The sound of Jellybean scratching at the door, and the feel of a full bladder that's desperately begging to be emptied rouses me from my sleep. The aching crook in my neck has me groaning as I lift myself into a sitting position.
My arm tugs me back down, and that's when my sore eyes shoot open as the events of last night carousel inside my mind. I glare at the cuff around my wrist, trapping me here.
Pain shooting through my abdomen, from needing to piss so badly, has me hastily pulling at the cuffs, but I know it's no use. They won't break. I learnt that last time.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I cross my bare legs, feeling the mortification wash over me from the fresh memory of why they're currently bare.
Disgust flows through me when I think about how I willingly allowed him to pleasure me, encouraging him, showing how desperate I was for him, just for him to pull away from me as soon as we'd both finished, and look at me with regret.
I understand we were both clearly lost in a daze last night, acting without logical thoughts processing in either of our brains, but to lookat me like he did, and then rush out of the room instantly made me feel cheap and used.
It proved to me he doesn't give two shits about how I feel or how his actions affect me.
All he cares about is himself.
That shouldn't make me angry, because I expected it. I didn't come into this marriage with false hope.
I knew what I was getting myself into.
I just assumed him being jealous and angry over the thought of me with someone else, and him coming onto me last night, showing he's obviously attracted to me, meant that he felt some sort of way towards me other than hatred, but I must've been mistaken.
The more I think about him, the more infuriated I become, yanking harder on the metal cuff, making the bedframe shake slightly.
With each failed tug and the cramping pain forming in my stomach, I stare at my hand, devising a plan I'll most likely regret.
Sighing, I straighten my shoulders, readying myself for what I'm about to do.
Thankfully, I've seen my father do this trick plenty of times.
Unfortunately, he usually does it to inflict pain on others.
"Here goes nothing," I mutter.
Using my free hand, I pinch the thumb of my cuffed hand between my fingers, and then, with as much power as I can muster, I swiftly twist my hand, pulling my thumb out of place, successfully dislocating the joint.
Searing pain shoots through my hand and up my arm, and a loud, piercing, painful scream unleashes from my throat as tears dance in my vision.
"Shit. Shit. Shit!"
Slipping the cuff off my hand, I cradle it against my chest, as tears drip down my cheeks, and pain continues to throb through my whole hand.
"Hijueputa."
Sinking my teeth into my lip, I use my arm to help shuffle off the bed, pushing my trembling body to move across the room to where my pyjama shorts are.
