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I can’t be here any longer. This place is a cage. I need to break free.
Before I take stock of my surroundings, my feet are moving. With every step, my rage burns brighter until I can’t see shit.
Everything is a blur of black, white, purple, and gold. All the peo
ple around me are faceless, and I have no idea where I’m going. I’m just moving, until cold frigid air hits me like a fucking brick. I’m standing at the top of the steps. Panting. Unable to get a hold of myself.
Empty wretches twist my stomach, closing what little gap is left in my throat for air.
Choking on my gasps, I stagger down the steps until I reach the lamppost on the pavement.
I’m desperately seeking something to ground me. A rope to help me clamber my way out of this pit.
What the fuck is happening?
The night is pitch-dark, and when the door opens, the light spilling from inside burns my eyes.
I remain frozen, watching my wife’s small figure outlined at the top of the steps. My heart goes from racing to stampeding. And when she sees me, there’s a moment where I think she’s going to turn back and disappear inside.
Instead she pulls her coat around her, buttoning it up as she takes each step down slowly.
Forcing myself unstuck, I meet her at the bottom. She stands looking straight at my chest with her hands in her pockets, her small bag tucked under her arm.
I want to force her to look at me, but with the way my hands are shaking, with how tightly fisted they are…I can’t trust myself not to hurt her. She looks so breakable.
Her dainty chin has lost most of its softness. The contours of her face look razor-sharp from up here.
Aching to familiarise myself with her once more, I reach for her, but before I can lay a hand on her, she steps around me.
Not a word is spoken. She doesn’t even look at me.
Chapter 5
Arabella
“Wait!”
The sound of Christopher’s deep voice gives me pause, but as his footsteps get closer, I start down the dark street. I keep looking back and forth, hoping a cab will appear.
“I said wait!”
I can’t. If I stop now, I won’t be able to walk away again.
“Let me go.”
My steps speed up with the pace of his, the clacking of my heels echoing in the quiet of the night.
Shit, I feel him getting closer. Like the sun has decided to peek through the clouds once more and warm me.
“Please, Christo—” My protest is silenced as I’m pulled to a stop and hauled into his body. Without thought, at his rough touch, I fight his hold.
My fists ball and hit again and again and again, until my breaths don’t just hurt my lungs but cut my throat.
I screw my eyes tightly shut, depriving myself of his face, even though I’m dying to see him. Starving myself of him has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Every part of me needs him and misses him.
But right now, I need to fix everything I ruined. I bullied him into giving me what I wanted, and we paid the highest price for it.
My hands press desperately to his chest; it’s so hard that I doubt he feels it, and with all my fight, his warm, peppery scent engulfs me. He’s always had the kind of smell that you want to bottle up and douse yourself in. Today is no different to any other day. I want to wrap myself in it. In him.
