Page 44 of Losing Control
He’s lost his fucking mind.
He’s supposed to love me, look after me, protect me.
He stands and comes towards me.
I close my eyes and wait for what he is going to do next.
His footsteps stop next to me, but I keep my eyes down, not daring to look at him to see the rage that I know is there.
“Why do you do this, Lucy? You keep making mistakes.”
I hear him sigh, and then his footsteps resume, he walks past me and a few seconds later I hear the bedroom door shut.
I need the toilet, but he told me not to move.
I need a blanket, but he told me not to move.
I don’t deserve to be treated like this.
I could run, but he would just come after me, of that I am sure.
I didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m being punished anyway.
My mind is full of questions, none of which I have the answers to.
The first tear falls.
And then another.
I sob silently.
I can’t make any noise as it would only anger Michael more.
So I stay put and take the punishment.
Anything for a quiet life.
Chapter Thirty-One
He’s got me
“Get up.” Michael’s stern voice makes me open my eyes.
I groggily push myself up off of the floor, every part of me is aching from the discomfort of being led here all night. I slowly move onto my knees to get to my feet, but it obviously isn’t quick enough for Michael as he grabs my arm and pulls me to a standing position. I feel dizzy and it takes a moment for it to pass.
“Sit,” is his next instruction. He pulls out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and I sit my weary body down.
I’m shaking where I am so cold, and probably traumatised from being treated so badly. Michael doesn’t say another word as he busies himself putting the kettle on and taking two mugs out of the cupboard. I watch him in a daze.
How can he treat me this way?
He’s supposed to love me.
It’s the same questions that circled on a loop in my mind all night long.
I rub my sore eyes and stifle a yawn. I can’t do anything that might trigger a reaction from him. It’s only Saturday morning, and I don’t want to spend my whole weekend paying for whatever the hell Michael thinks that I did wrong.
“Here,” he says as he places a hot mug of coffee in front of me.
