Moving across the room, he kicks over the laundry basket as clothes cascade onto the floor in a tangled heap. His arm sweeps the dresser top, causing perfume bottles to crash, a glass jewelry tray to flip, coins and earrings, scattering across the vinyl wood.
“Leaving me?” he screams. “After everything I’ve put up with? After I dealt with your moods, your crying jags, your ‘I need content’ bullshit every time you left for Tennessee, when I knew you were fucking him!”
I don’t answer as I reach for the small wooden box hidden on the top shelf of the closet, behind the winter coats I never needed because of SoCal weather.
He sees me fumbling with it and lunges toward me. He smacks the box out of my grasp, pushing me hard as I fall onto the floor, screaming.
The box clatters all over the floor as the lid springs open, and letters spill everywhere.
Dozens of them.
Folded notebook pages, every single letter Reed has ever seen. Every “I miss you,” scrawled in his messy handwriting. Every “I’m waiting for you, sunshine.”
They flutter across the carpet like promises.
He drops to his knees as he snatches the nearest one and unfolds it with shaking fingers.
His eyes scan the page, then he begins to read aloud in a mock tone.“If you ever wonder how I feel, just remember this: you’ve got a man in Tennessee who hasn’tstopped thinking about you, not even for a day. And no matter what happens, I’ll always be waiting for you, sunshine.”
He laughs, a venomous, nasty, mocking laugh. “Jesus Christ. Forever? This guy’s got a death wish.”
He grabs another one. “I keep thinking about you. About the way you laughed that night. About the kiss. I don’t think I realized how much it would stay with me. I miss you more than I expected to.”
He looks up at me, eyes glittering with something dangerous. “What the fuck are these?”
I take a step back as my heel crunches on broken glass. “Brian?—”
He stands slowly, clutching the papers so tightly they tear at the edges.
“You fucking whore!”
I turn and bolt, barely making it three steps down the hallway before his hand fists in my hair.
He yanks hard.
My scalp screams as my back slams against his chest.
His arm snakes around my chest, tight enough that each breath burns.
“You think you can just walk out?” he hisses in my ear. “After I put up with your whining, your crying, your pathetic videos? You think you get to leave me like I’m nothing?”
I try to wriggle out of his hold, but it’s useless.
“You’re nothing without me,” he whispers in my ear, wrapping his arms tighter around my chest. “No one is going to believe a word you say about me.”
He twirls me around, and I can smell the sharp mix of beer and anger on his breath. He pushes me against the wall, my spine slamming into the drywall as pain blooms.
“After everything I’ve done for you,” he says, gripping my throat, voice rising, “You embarrass me like this?”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t want my answer anyway as he tightens his grip.
Seeing the flash of fury in his eyes, I know, this time it’s different.
He lets go of my throat and hits me, his fist connecting with the peak of my cheekbone.
I stumble back against the wall, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through my skull.
Feeling a sharp pain shoot across my cheek, my hand automatically rises to cradle my throbbing face. The taste of blood floods my mouth, and I feel a warm trickle run down my nose.
