Page 59 of Losing Control
“Okay.”
“Bye, Kim,” Michael says before turning me around and marching me out of Alan’s.
I can feel Kim’s eyes burning a hole in my back as I walk away.
I feel sick, the nausea sweeping through me at a rapid pace.
When Michael gets me outside, he heads in the direction of the apartment.
“Did you not want to get food?” I ask, wanting to prolong the idea of being interrogated a little longer.
“I think it’s best that we don’t.” His tone says it all. He’s pissed, and I’m in trouble. He must have heard Kim to be this annoyed. His grip tightens more on my shoulder, but I don’t squirm. If I squirm, he will only dig his fingers in more. So, I walk along, gritting my teeth and bearing the pain.
It turns out that in my haste to get some distance from Michael, I may have just fractured my friendship with Kim a little bit more.
Chapter Forty-Two
The storm brews
“I’m going to go and have a bath,” I say as Michael and I enter the apartment. I don’t wait for a response, I just want to get away from him and have some time to myself before I have to deal with his mood. He hardly spoke on the way home and I know that he is working himself up. The sooner I am out of sight, the better.
I take my jacket off, hang it by the door, slip my shoes off and head for the bathroom. I start to run the bath, pouring a generous amount of bubble-bath into the water, enjoying the scent of roses as the water starts to bubble.
As I watch the water fill up the tub, I feel Michael stood behind me and I can’t help but let out a sigh.
It turns out that I’m not going to get the peace that I was craving a few seconds ago.
“What was Kim talking to you about at Alan’s?” he asks me, going straight for the kill.
“Nothing much, we didn’t really get to talking before I felt off and then you showed up.”
“So it’s my fault that your drinks were cut short?”
Oh for Pete’s sake, he has to bring it back to him every single time.
“I didn’t say that, Michael.”
“You implied it.”
“No, I didn’t, you just took it the wrong way.”
Lately, he seems to take everything the wrong bloody way.
The water gets to the level that I want it to and I shut the taps off. I start to undress, all the while aware of Michael still stood behind me.
As I put my clothes into the washing basket, I plunge one foot into the water and my skin tingles from the heat. I immerse myself fully in the bubbles and sit back, closing my eyes and trying to ignore Michael’s domineering presence.
It’s hard to act relaxed when every single part of me is screaming to get the hell away from him and get the hell out of here.
My mind is a jumble of thoughts that are constantly warring with themselves.
He loves me.
He doesn’t mean to get so angry.
He hurts me.
He makes me feel weak, helpless.
