Page 64 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

I grunt in anger and walk away. I slam the bedroom door closed and toss the sheets to the floor. Again, snapping one sheet to separate it from the other, I find the fitted sheet and start making the bed that he slept in last night. Stupid asshole, making my sheets smell so good I want to burn them and roll in them at the same time.

I make the bed so meticulously, no one would ever dare lay on it for fear of messing up the perfect corners. I pull the covers up and fold the ends perfectly. Rage simmers under my skin, and I call Sam and his little sister all sorts of horrible names under my breath, because if I stop being angry, I’m going to lose my shit.

I’m done here. And if Lily wasn’t at stake, I’d have already left.

My eyes snap up when a shadow moves across the crack below the bedroom door, then the handle slowly turns and he walks in with a sleeping Lily tucked against his chest. I hate that he looks so good with her there. I hate that he looks so good in general. I hate everything.

I walk toward them. “Here, I got her.”

He frowns and twists his body away from my grabbing hands. “I’ve got her. I’m just putting her to bed.”

“I can do it,” I snap quietly.

He walks by me without a worry in the world, then stopping at an iPod and speaker, he turns it on low. A long time ago, this would have had me smiling and stepping into him so he could sing to me while we danced, but today, the day he does this for Lily, the day the whole world decides to be a dick, it pisses me off.

“Whatever.” I storm past him and stomp out of the room. He can fucking do it. I don’t care anymore. Asshole thinks he can just come in and take over. He thinks that my months of little sleep are made up, because it’s all so damn easy for him. He thinks he knows everything.

I stomp into the kitchen and pull the cupboard door open. I take out a cast iron frying pan and slam it down on the stove. I’m half tempted to throw it at his head.

I go to the fridge and help myself to his shit, because he so insists I do. I ignore the bag of m&m’s and take out the bacon and Nutella, because he’s a damn weirdo and keeps the spread in the fridge, then turning, I grab a spoon from the drawer and start eating from the jar. I lean against the counter and spoon glutenous amounts into my mouth, and I sneer at the empty doorway that minutes later, is filled by Sam as he smirks and looks me up and down. “You need your bitch pills or something?”

“No, but your bitchy sister might.”

– Scotch –

Here Comes the Frying Pan

I was entertained by her fit of rage as she took it out on my doors and was getting ready to smash through a tub of Nutella, but she’s gone too far. I step forward with narrowed eyes. “That’s my baby sister you’re talking about.”

“Yup.” She fills her mouth with hazelnut spread. “She’s a bitch.”

“Samantha,” I hiss quietly. “Don’t do that. You can be shitty at me – though god knows I don’t deserve it – but you don’t talk about her like that.”

“Here’s an idea, asshole. How about you both go to hell? Because you’re both assholes. And you do deserve it. Maybe I do too, but I don’t deserve the shit I’ve caught since being here.”

I shake my head slowly as rage bubbles under my skin. “Don’t go there, Samantha. We’re getting along. Don’t take us back there.”

“But we’re not getting along!” She points her spoon at me. “You hardly spend more than two minutes with me before turning into a jerk. You walk away angry almost every single time. Your sister attacks me in the fucking street. You don’t ask if I’m okay, you just go and coddle her baby ass, then you come back here and ignore me.”

“So what if I don’t talk to you sometimes? I’m allowed to take a minute of downtime. It’s better than braining you with the damn frying pan! You fucked us over, Samantha, and that’s not so easy to just get over.”

“And that’s another thing! You call me Samantha.” She steps toward me angrily. “You know I hate that name. You know it! But you do it because you want to hurt me.”

“Yeah, I do wanna hurt you! You hurt me. You ruined my fucking life, and you come back here and expect everyone to be your friend? That’s not how the world works!”

“You promised!” Her voice cracks with devastation. “You promised you wouldn’t call me that name.”

“You made promises too! And you broke them. You married me.” I step toward her as my voice booms through the kitchen. I step so close that she backs up against the counter. “You promised to love me forever, Sammy. You promised to run away with me, not from me. You just take my baby away and you ditch town. What the fuck was that?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!”

I shake my head and scoff angrily. The hair by her ear moves with my puff of breath. “You can tell yourself whatever the fuck makes you feel better, but we both know what you did was wrong! We talked about it and we made decisions together. You took that out of my hands, and you…” You aborted my baby.

“I was protecting you!”

Disgust washes through me. “Don’t, Samantha. Don’t even.”

“My daddy was threatening you. He was throwing the words ‘statutory rape’ around.” She steps forward, angrily shoving me back half a step. “I was pregnant and scared and sick and alone. He convinced me he’d have you charged and sent to prison for years.”

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