But it's not keeping my focus, and I keep sliding back into my past.
Back to the last time I fucked everything up.
Nerves dance along my body as I wait for Markus to get home from work.
I made his favorite for supper, a seared steak, medium rare just the way he likes it. Paired with garlic mashed potatoes and baked parmesan asparagus. I spent hours tenderizing and then seasoning the steak to perfection and making sure everything was meticulously done.
I made sure it was perfect.
I head to the sink to finish washing the dishes I used to make supper. His plate is warming in the oven so it doesn't get cold.
I jump at the sound of the door hitting the wall, warning bells going off in my head.
Maybe tonight isn't the night to tell him…
“What a fucking day. A piece of shit customer comes in and tries to tell me how to domyjob? Fucking prick.”
Pain radiates across my ass, his hand probably leaving a mark as he passes me to get to the fridge. Reaching in he grabs a beer, cracking it open and taking two long pulls. Belching before turning toward me.
“What we eatin’?”
Quickly I wipe my hands on the dish towel and turn toward the oven.
“I made your favorite baby,” reaching into the stove, grabbing his plate. Searing heat spreads across my finger tips, pulling a yelp from my lips. The plate tumbles to the floor, smashing into pieces. Food skittering across the pale linoleum tile. Pulling my hand to my chest on instinct. Quickly I take note of the redness where my skin connected with the hot plate. The surface is shiny and starting to swell. Pulsing as the sting of the burn radiates. Not taking another moment to think about, I spin heading toward the broom closet.
I need to clean this up, I'll deal with the burn later. I feel the air shift past my ear, followed by the thump and hiss of something connecting with the wall.
I don't need to guess that if I turn and look, his beer can will be rolling on the floor behind me.
“Just fucking great. I work a long ass fucking day while you sit here home by yourself and you can't even make a fucking meal.”
Spinning he throws open the fridge grabbing another beer before stalking off to the living room. Leaving me alone with the mess. Quickly, I get to work cleaning everything up before retreating to the bedroom.
It's not until I'm curled into bed, clutching onto the stuffed panda that Harper got me on my eighteenth birthday do I let the tears fall. I don't know how long I lay there before the blanket of sleep covers me.
I’m startled awake, as I’m being dragged out of the bed.
“What- what's going on?” Instantly I'm on alert, but my brain is still fuzzy from sleep.
When my eyes focus it's then that I realize the small gift box that's open on the floor. The positive pregnancy test in pieces next to the little baby onesie.
“What the fuck is this shit Evie?” His grip on my bicep tightens, pulling a hiss from my lips.
He's never grabbed me like this before. Sure some days he’s a crabby dick, but those are the days I avoid him, the most he's ever done was throw shit when we've fought in the past.
“I mean it's pretty self explanatory Markus-” the rest of the words die as the next moment I'm on the ground next to the discarded gift. I look up at him in shock, “what's your fucking issue? You can't be throwing me on the ground. I'm fucking pregnant!”
“Get rid of it.” The tone of his words is lethal.
“What?” Squeaks out of me.
“Then get out.”
“Markus. you can't just kick me out, this is our place.” I try to reason with him. There's no way he's actually kicking me out right now. I don't even know what time it is. Based on the darkness from the bedroom window it's still night.
“This is my place. My name is on the lease. I just let you stay here.” He uses his big stubby finger and points to himself with every sentence, driving the point home. “Now pack your shit and get out.”
He stalks across the room and begins opening the dresser drawers, throwing all my clothes on the floor. I scramble to get up, “Markus stop!” I yell, “it's the middle of the night. Where do you expect me to go?”
