Trouble(4)

“No, of course there isn’t. There’s only you I want to be with. I love you.”

I hate you.

“I don’t believe you! You’ve been fucking someone else, haven’t you?”

He turns me around and slams me up against the fridge. Pain bites up my back.

“No, I haven’t. I swear.” I’m breathless, and my mouth is dry. A tear runs down my cheek because I know what’s coming next, and there’s nothing that I can say or do that will stop it from happening.

“If you’ve done nothing wrong, then why the fuck are you crying?” His face is in mine. I can tell from his eyes that he’s gone. The nice Forbes that arrived has stayed at the door.

He yanks me forward, then slams me back hard against the fridge again. My teeth clatter together as my head makes impact.

“I’m c-crying b-because I don’t want you to hurt me.” The words wobble from my trembling lips.

I don’t want him to hurt me – that’s what I say. It’s a stupid thing to say because that’s all he ever does, and it’s not about to change because I say the words.

“C-crying,” he mimics, letting out a sharp laugh.

Then his face darkens and I know exactly what’s coming next, so I close my eyes and brace myself.

I feel the familiar hard sting of his hand hitting my face.

A sharp tang of blood flows into my mouth.

Happy. Think of happy things, Mia.

The feel of the sun on my face. The scent of the flowers I keep in my window box. Lowering the roof on my car on a warm day, loving the way the wind feels as it blows through my hair. I’m a bird. A bird flying free in the sky…

Music. Think of a song, Mia. Sing it in your head while you fly away…

“Be a shame to waste those tears of yours.” Forbes slaps me across the face again. “Keep crying, Mia. And I’ll keep giving you a reason to cry.”

I’m not crying anymore, but that doesn’t stop him. Nothing ever stops him. Forbes is done when he’s done.

So I fly away to a safe place. One filled with happiness.



***



I come to, unsure of how much time has passed.

I’m alone on the kitchen floor.

Picking myself up, I get to my knees. The tiles are hard and unforgiving against my shins. My head is throbbing, and pain is radiating down my side. I hold my hand to my ribs. Not broken, just bruised. I’ve had broken ribs before, so I know how bad they feel. I clutch my hand around my ribs in an attempt to contain the pain as I get to my feet.

Seeing the heat is still on the stove, I move quietly to turn it off. The click of the knob echoes loud in the silence. I freeze. Making myself invisible is what counts right now. I don’t want to attract Forbes’ attention.

Turning my head, I see him in the living room, through the crack in the door. He’s sitting on the sofa, beer in his hand, staring down at it.

I know what will come next. We play this role regularly.

Moving lightly on my feet, I open the door carefully and slip down the hall, heading straight to the bathroom.

Closing the door quietly behind me, I pull the first-aid kit from the cabinet, then check my face in the mirror.

No bruises. Forbes doesn’t usually hit me hard enough in the face to leave a bruise, just like Oliver didn’t.

People question bruises on the face.

I check my lip. Spilt on the inside. Caught on my tooth.

I down a couple of Advil to take the edge off the pain in my ribs, then get some antiseptic cleaner out and work it onto a cotton swab.

Pulling my lip forward, I dab the antiseptic against the cut.

“Shit,” I whisper.

A tear of pain leaks from my eye. I rub it away on my forearm.

When I’m done, I throw the cotton swab away in the trashcan, close up the first aid kit up, and put it away.

With care, I lift my shirt so I can examine my ribs. My skin is red and swollen. There will be a bruise showing in a few hours. A bad one.

Movement in the doorway catches my eye.

Forbes.

I freeze. My shirt drops from my grip, covering me. Covering what he did to me.

“I did that to you.” Regret is in his voice. Tears in his eyes.

I hate you.

“God, I’m so sorry, Mia.” He rushes me, grabbing me, pulling me against him.

He doesn’t care that I wince from the pain in my ribs. All he cares about right now is himself. All he ever cares about is himself. Making Forbes feel better, no matter the cost to me.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mia. So sorry.” He’s pressing kisses over my face, along with his insufficient words.

His tears wash against my skin. They make me feel angry. Used. Weak. Consumed.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

Scripted. My life is one big goddamn script.

“It’ll never happen again. I promise you. I love you so fucking much, Mia. I just get so jealous of the thought of you with another guy, and I’ve been under so much pressure lately, with my dad and…”