I could just barely make the woman out, surrounded by blacks and purples, neon greens. I itched to see it, to maybe take it down and keep it, maybe hang it up on the wall with my otherartworks. She would be a great inspiration for my story, I was sure of it.
But as soon as Steven saw it, he walked over and ripped it down as if it were his primal instinct to make me miserable.
I flinched at the sound of tearing paper, watching with a blank expression as he ripped it to shreds and tossed it to the ground. “Dyke bitch,” he muttered and stormed for the door.
I swallowed, watching impassively as the pieces of paper drifted in the cool breeze, the edges of my dress lifting with them.
It felt like a metaphor somehow, I just couldn’t find the right words to explain it.
He opened the door and walked in; the door swinging shut behind him unforgivingly. I only just managed to catch it before it sealed shut behind him.
I rolled my eyes and shoved it open, walking in after him, watching as he stalked across the room and disappeared behind that curtain without so much as a glance back.
Whatever happened in the back today would certainly come back on me, that much was clear.
It was fine, I was strong enough to handle it. What I wasn’t strong enough to do was walk away from all of…ofthis. Why couldn’t I do it?
I wish I could just…just go, but it was as if Steven had some sort of invisible shackle around me, keeping me here.
I sent a quick glance around the room, finding the same three patrons as usual before I headed for my regular spot. “Double,” I told Jake as I smoothed out my dress and took a seat.
He set a glass down, studying me. “Hard day?”
I folded one leg over the other. “Yeah,” I said, watching the liquid fall into the glass. He set the scotch to the side and filled the rest with Dr. Pepper, the popping bubbles causing my mouth to water.
I took the glass and drank half of it, wincing at the bitter flavor. I shuddered and ran my tongue over my lips. “You should order some better stuff.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, leaning over the counter. “The boss won’t allow it. Something about getting ‘too popular’. Can’t attract too many people.”
I gave him a look. “It’s an exclusive club. Just lock the door.”
Jake smiled, his eyes shining. “That’s what I said.” He folded his arms across the bar and leaned in a little more, searching my eyes. “Why are you having a hard day?”
I searched his, wondering if it was even worth talking about. But who else did I have to talk to? I didn’t have to tell him anything personal, I could talk just to have an adult conversation with someone who wouldn’t make me feel like shit. Plus, he was always flirting a little with me. Always inching closer. It’d be nice to feel wanted, even if it was just for a second. Even if it was just for a breath. “Why do boys like playing such mean pranks on April Fool’s Day?” I dared ask as I ran my finger along the rim of the glass absentmindedly.
“Because they’re boys,” he replied, his gaze flicking down only to find my eyes again, causing my stomach to warm. “What kind of mean pranks?”
He kept ‘making me flinch’. Throwing his fist towards me with everything he was just to stop in front of my face and yell ‘April Fool’s!’
He put a little bleach in the jug of milk I had just bought.
He replaced my creamer with cottage cheese.
He ground up mealworms and sprinkled them over my leftover sushi.
He drugged my dog.
He putNoirin my shampoo bottle which would have been disastrous had I not caught the smell beforehand.
All of this just three days ago. All of it in just one day. Onehorrendous, long day.
“Nothing,” I told him and finished the glass. “Another.” I knew it was wrong, I didn’t need someone else telling me that. I was also rational enough to know what people would say if they heard about what he did, but what they didn’t know about were the good moments. There were still good moments. Not many, but when they happened, they were so very good. Was that why I didn’t leave? Because of the morsels he still gave me from time to time?
How pathetic was that?
Jake watched me for a few seconds before nodding and straightening, pouring me a second glass. “How is that book going?”
“Scrapped it and started another,” I said truthfully. “This one is about a serial killer.” It was only a partial lie. I did start a new one, but the first one was still saved on my computer too. I couldn’t bring myself to scrap it just yet.
