Work in Progress - Part 2

Rummaging around in her bag, she caught hold of her sunglasses and put them on, taking care to avoid pressure on the right side of her face that was now beginning to give her a headache, then headed out towards 'her' car. The thought struck her that there wasn't one thing that she owned that was truly hers. The car she was walking towards was a gift, she didn't even get to choose the monstrosity of a vehicle, too big and over powerful for what she needed and absolutely not what she would have chosen for herself, but it was very generous of him and she didn't want to seem ungrateful. The clothes she was wearing were bought by him, although able to choose them for herself ultimately, there had been a series of of negative comments and disapproval concerning the previous options that steered her in their direction. Even her hair, the colour and style were all set to his approval, the one time she had made the mistake of taking him at his word and doing 'whatever she wanted' with it ended with her feeling worthless and unattractive, proving that she really did need help with these things. Yes, he really did look after her very well. 

The journey home was filled with anxiety, the more stop-starting she encountered, whether it be traffic lights roundabouts or just sheer volume of traffic, only increased the feeling. Not wanting to get there but also get there in quickest time possible and get the reunion out of the way and the sermon over with, all the while trying not to start the fight all over again. Negotiating the narrow suburban streets close to home, her heart was somewhere near her throat, her chest felt tight and her breathing irregular. 

Being extremely careful to manoeuvre the tank-like car onto the driveway according to explicit instructions, she finally parked, gathered her belongings and made her way to the house. On inserting her front door key into the lock, it didn't move, he had deadlocked it so she had to ring the door bell. After ringing for third time, she was now in a twisted mess of nerves and frustration worried about which face would greet her and growing angry at having to be permitted entrance to her home like some teenager trying to get into the VIP area of club. 

She heard his footsteps on the other side of the door, his voice calling, asking who was there. Surely he knew it was her, he heard the car at least? He called again and this time she replied. A series of clunks and clicks indicated he was opening the door. The ruffled appearance made it seem like he had just got out of bed. Without a hello or greeting of any kind, he asked why she hadn't used her key. In a measured, emotionless tone she stated that the door had been deadlocked and added 'somehow' to ensure it didn't sound like an accusation. 

She followed his broad back down the hall towards the spacious kitchen in silence, waiting for some indication of his mood, what she saw on the kitchen table made her fractionally relax. The large, ugly, crystal vase his mother had given them as a gift for their anniversary was filled with beautiful flowers, venturing further, she could smell baking bread and fresh coffee. Momentary reprieve, but knowing the tide could turn at any moment, she still had to be very careful how she responded, whatever happened next was akin to stepping through a mine field. Testing the water she commented on the flowers first, nothing over the top, just how beautiful they were and how he needn't have gone to the trouble just for her and made sure she said thank you, he hated it when people were ungrateful. 

He stood behind her and instinctively she froze, if he felt her flinch, it was all over. He slid his arms around her waist and snuggled his head into her neck his chin resting on her shoulder. Softly he said that he hated it when they argue. He turned her around to face him, took off her sunglasses and she naturally dropped her head a little avoiding his gaze. He gently tilted her head back up with a soft caress of her chin and looked into her eyes. His eyes strayed to the right side of her face and he looked sad, saying it was a shame she had hurt her pretty face and she really should be more careful, to take better care of herself, that this was why she needed him. She smiled for him and muttered something about knowing how clumsy she can be.

They enjoyed a leisurely lunch where he talked nothing about what had happened that morning, it was general chit chat and what they might do with the rest of the day. She wanted nothing more than to go to their room alone and hibernate for the foreseeable future, but she knew that wasn't possible. She had to play along and forget all about it. He asked if she had enjoyed her morning out, where did she go, if she had chatted with anyone or just had a quiet coffee. She was careful to answer casually, saying she just wanted to relax and have a bit of alone time, having a chat with anyone was the last thing she had wanted, which was completely true. He seemed satisfied with her responses and they continued their lunch and pleasant conversation. 

Once they had cleared up and the dishes were done, with everything put back in its place, she said she wished to have a shower and freshen up as her face was aching and that might help. Once in the bathroom she was able to shed the facade and she crumpled to the floor silently sobbing. She found herself on her knees in front of the toilet. She felt the overwhelming urge to purge her body of the revulsion she had for herself. She stuck her fingers down her throat and out it came, all of the anxiety, fear, pain and frustration. The relief was immeasurable, she sat back on her heels, arching her back to allow her breathing to settle and letting the momentary heat flash to subside. Gathering herself, she got to her feet and went on with her shower, washing away what remained of the 'episode'. 

Work in progress

 She sat at the table with her head angled slightly to one side and down enabling her dark hair to fall over the right side of her pale face. Normally she would stay indoors for a few days after one of their 'episodes' but this time he didn't leave and she couldn't bear to be near him right now. This was exactly the type of place he hated her going to, all of the people she could possibly talk to that might 'put silly ideas into her head' as he was fond of saying, in regard to conversations she might have with other people. 

The pretty, blond and annoyingly chirpy, waitress arrived with her coffee, hovering beside her for a moment, awaiting acknowledgement. Instinctively she looked up with a smile of thanks and immediately wished she hadn't. Pretty blond waitress's face fell, albeit fleetingly, when she took in the countenance smiling back at her. With a muttered thank you, she dropped her head enough to  allow her hair to swing down protectively over the offending aspect of her features.

Taking a quick glance around her at the other tables, she reached down into her bag, that she had stowed by her feet and grabbed her phone from the side pocket. It vibrated silently in her hand. She had been away from the house for little under 30 minutes. Looking at the screen she could see the text messages and missed call notifications had already mounted up, even on a 'good' day this was not unusual, but today the amount appeared to have multiplied by a factor of ten. The phone in her hand, she sat watching the steam dancing in ribbons above the hot coffee and allowed herself to feel the throb in her right temple. Her hand buzzed and it prompted her to look at the flat screen once again. She should just switch it off and get herself together, she knew that, but as always she then worried that he may do something stupid if she didn't respond. 

Although it was possible, it was still doubtful that anyone else but him would be trying to contact her since most of her friends had given up maintaining a relationship with someone that constantly cancelled on the last minute and failed to turn up. There were no colleagues that might need to speak to her because he had convinced her long ago that she didn't need to work, he wanted to look after her and he could make sure she had whatever she needed, all she had to do was ask. Another buzz from the phone and she finally unlocked it and took in the stream of notifications awaiting her attention. All 35 were from him. The first 4 or 5 were voice messages, the usual angry rant about how she tortures him and pushes him too far, how she manipulates him into behaving badly because she likes to play sick games with his head and watch him come undone. Then, he had switched to text, which meant that he was calming somewhat, but that he was sitting brooding and then sending her a running commentary which was still angry and nasty but becoming more measured with each instalment. 

Due to the lack of response he was now becoming calmer and obviously desperate because he had moved on to saying how she knows how he can be, it was just a silly row and she should come home and they could forget all about it. To come home, have a nice dinner and snuggle down for the night, she could even watch whatever silly movie she liked. In the final few messages he had switched back to phone calls. These were the usual pleading, he needed her, he wouldn't know what to do without her, he couldn't cope and lastly, her personal favourite, he would rather die than be without her. Quite often at this stage he would go into detail about what he had available around him to do the deed, sometimes he would say he had the bread knife in his hand and was prepared to cut his wrists, other times it would be the pills from the bathroom cabinet and a bottle of booze, but today it seemed he hadn't reached that stage just yet but if she remained silent she was pretty sure it would come. 

Hitting the reply button, she quickly dashed off a response saying she was taking some time out, wouldn't be long and not to worry. It wouldn't completely placate him, but it should be enough that he was calm when she did go home, so long as she didn't delay too much. She just really needed to get herself together, put her face straight and let the crying subside. It wouldn't be helpful if she looked like she had been crying when she got back, then she would be emotionally blackmailing him, trying to get sympathy and all the other things women used crying for. 

After draining her coffee cup, she took a trip to the bathroom at the back of the cafe. Going directly into a cubicle she put the lid down and sat for a short time preparing to go out and survey the damage. After a deep encouraging breath she went out and washed her hands, delaying looking up for as long as she could, then finally she saw herself. Her right eye was just beginning to puff up, red but no real bruising yet, her right temple was tender to her touch. All in all she felt like she'd had worse and even though the swelling was obvious, she might even get away with minimal bruising that could be easily covered this time. 

With her hair carefully arranged around her face, she strode out of the small bathroom and wove her way through the cafe to the exit