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Maybe to get out of this house. Oppression is a living and breathing thing when I’ve only been allowed to leave for class. School and straight home. I haven’t been allowed to stay in the library to study, and study groups are out of the question. Who cares if my grades suffer? Being a career woman isn’t in the cards for me. Not when I have…him to take care of me.
Love me. Dote on me. Fuck me.
Fuck me over.
A slow blink and the world slowly starts filtering in. The buzzing in my head calms, the bees settling down. But the numbness doesn’t dissipate. It feels like tar is crusting my insides. It will never peel away.
My feet are leading me towards Ryan’s office before I can process what I’m doing.
I need out.
I need out.
I need out.
I need out.
Right as I lift my hand to knock on Ryan’s office door, his voice filters through. He sounds excited. Happy. I’ve never heard him sound so… young.
“…I fucking knew it was him. I mean it was so fucking obvious with the way he was acting… I know I can’t believe he didn’t figure it out, either… No, I’m not saying anything to him yet. I’m still getting a few more things worked out first, see what benefits I can get out of it… I will, man, I’ll call you as soon as I break the news, we’ll grab drinks to celebrate…”
Hearing how happy Ryan sounds relaxes me and equal parts saddens me. He’s hasn’t sounded that happy with me in what feels like ages. Not since the first year of our relationship, when we hardly ever fought.
No matter, at least I caught Ryan in a good mood.
“Baby?” I call as I lightly knock on the door a moment before opening it. He looks up from his computer with annoyance, no trace of his good mood anywhere on his face. I thought he’d still be happy but work must still be stressing him out more than I thought. Apparently, he’s been dealing with a difficult client the past few days. He doesn’t talk about work with me, but I did hear him complaining to someone on the phone that he got stuck with a tweaker who can’t shut the fuck up.
His dad makes him accept one pro bono case a year, and he’s none too happy about working with a drug addict. Ryan despises anyone who uses drugs.
“What did I tell you about interrupting me?” he demands sharply. Anxiety washes through me, breaking through the tar long enough to make me second guess why I’m here. I squeeze the doorknob in my hand tighter to cease any trembles, the metal in my hand growing slick from sweat.
“I’m sorry,” I rush to apologize. “I just wanted to let you know I was going to meet with Amelia.”
I don’t even know if Amelia is available. It doesn’t matter. If she’s not, I’ll spend the night in my safe space.
He sits back in his chair and examines my body. My eyes drop too, trying to see what he sees. A baggy t-shirt with my university displayed across the top with our team mascot—and I’m pretty sure that’s a ketchup stain—down to my loose sweatpants. Not my usual style, but I figured it’d be one less fight between Ryan and I. Amelia doesn’t care what I wear, who cares if she’s not impressed?
Ryan raises an eyebrow at my attire.
“You’d be going out looking like that?” he snipes derisively, looking at me as if I’m an overcooked steak on his plate. Ryan likes his meat bloody.
I shift on my feet. “Yeah? I’d just be going over to hang out at her house. We’re not doing anything special.” I hope that sweetens the deal. A quiet night in with my girl. No clubs, bars or anywhere public really. Not even Walmart.
He scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest and aiming a nasty glare my way. “You’d be going over to hang out with her and David. Another man.”
My brow lowers in confusion. “David’s her husband. Why does it matter?”
“Why does it matter?” he repeats condescendingly. “Because you’d be hanging out with another man without me around. Why does it need to be explained how disrespectful that is to me?”
My hand slides from the doorknob and grabs the end of the shirt. I look down and away from his eyes. Like a coward. The bottom of my shirt slides between my fingertips as I try to formulate a response that won’t upset him further.
“It doesn’t. I just thought you trusted me.”
A sardonic smile slides across his face. The blue in his eyes is nearly gone, in place a color so muddy and dark, I hardly recognize the man in front of me anymore. I don’t think I’ve recognized him in a long time. Or maybe he’s finally taking off his mask and revealing who he truly is. Who he has been hiding this whole time.
It’s been six weeks since I came home to Ryan. And six weeks since I’ve heard from or talked to Mako. It seems he’s finally given up on me, and it depresses me as much as it relieves me. It’s one less thing I have to worry about now. But I miss him.
“You’re not going,” he says after a beat.
