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I still can’t talk, but I nod my head. I try to slow my breathing, taking deep breaths and holding them before exhaling.
Even though I’m frightened, Tyr picks me up and carries me to the bathroom. It feels like it’s on the other side of the house. He sets me down to wait as he turns the shower on. He faces me and starts helping me out of my clothes. I’m hesitant to continue letting him touch me, but I soon relent, wanting to feel the blazing water on my skin.
"Good girl. Keep breathing and get in when you're ready," he whispers, not wanting to scare me.
Padding into the tiled enclosure and under the hot water, I start to mollify. Tyr follows me in. He’s shirtless but has his sweatpants on, having already changed when he awakened me. His sweats hang lower than normal on his hips due to the heaviness of the water pulling them down. He wraps his arms around me from behind, and I let my head fall to his shoulder. We stand under the running water until it runs cool.
Eventually, he shuts the water off and wraps me in a towel. He leads me to the bed, which feels miles away, and sits me down. I still haven't talked, even though Tyr has whispered sweet nothings into my ear the entire time.
"Tyr. What the fuck was that?"
"I…I'm not sure. I just snapped. You shouldn't have attacked me like that. I got angry, and I guess I took it out on you. You were just asking so many questions, and I got upset. Then you started talking to me about relationships, and it made me feel stupid." He strokes my back and glances over to me.
"Okay but like, you choked me, and that wasn't the first time. Tyr, I can't be with someone like that."
"I don't want you to leave. I'll start going to therapy. Shit, we both should. I'm sorry, hun. It won't happen again."
"Yes, therapy. I'll make the appointments soon. For both of us." I don’t kiss him like I normally do. I just lay down and turn away from him. I don’t fall asleep until after he does, worried about what could happen.
Kitty
I sit in my chair in the media studio. Marcus has just finished doing all the little meaningless jobs I’d given him when I returned from the diner. He stomps in and plops down in his chair, wiping the sweat from his brow and drying his palm on his jeans.
“It’s fucking humid out there, but I finished everything.”
“Okay, good," I reply without looking in his direction.
“Oh, also, the delivery guy brought the food.”
“What delivery guy? Wait. What food?”
“The good kind. From that one guy who works at that one place. Dude.”
“Marcus, what are you even talking about? You’re a fucking nutcase.” I shake my head.
“Wow, Loki. Billy brought us lunch from the diner. Real ‘prime’-ribs, if you ask me.” Marcus chuckles to himself.
“Ohhhh.” I smile as I grab the styrofoam takeout box from him as he pulls out his phone and opens his dating app. He keeps swiping and double-tapping, making little grunts of approval as he does.
“Are you seriously on that fucking dating app again? That shit is so overrated.” I roll my eyes at him and shake my head disapprovingly, preparing to sink my teeth into the juicy meat.
“It is not overrated, bro. How often do you actually go out in the world and meet people to get laid? I get laid weekly, if not more,” he winks at me.
I shrug. “I see the appeal. But what happens if they are just catfishing you?”
“Dude, catfish or not, I’m still gettin’ the kitty.”
I stifle a gag.
“You should grow up, Marcus. The only kitty you are going to get will be the ones in your bed when you’re living with some crazy fucking cat lady and suffering from gonoherpasyphilaids. That will serve you right for fucking around on those apps,” I shake my head and whisper under my breath as I tear another bite off the rib.
“Ha! Gonoherpasyphilaids. That’s fucking hilarious, dude.” Marcus cackles as he chews, resulting in several chunks of meat dropping from his mouth as he proceeds to smack his lips every time he bites down. He lazily dirties his shirt, using it as a napkin to wipe his mouth before continuing to judge the women on his phone screen.
Lunch Dates
Tyr and I haven’t spoken much since the night in the bedroom. Every time we get close, one of us pulls away. Therapy hasn’t gone well despite the fact that we’re both determined to move forward with things. Tyr has been working longer days, and I’m working on figuring out something to occupy my mind other than darkness and flashbacks.
“I’m going to work. I’ll see you tonight.” Tyr gives me a brief peck on the forehead, grabs his car keys, and leaves. I don’t even get a real chance to say goodbye.
