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5
Karma
Anger rolls off him in waves, and the hair on the back of my neck rises. I stare up into his blue eyes and shiver. There is no trace of the man who had fucked me… Or of the man who had married me… Who had made pancakes for breakfast for me. This man is closed up and hurting. He is raging at me… At the world. He is wounded, and not just from the physical hurt I had caused him. It’s the fact that I had run away from him. That I had taken the little bit of empathy he had begun to show me, and turned it against him. I had left him…had insulted him, had ground his ego underfoot as I had run away from him… With the help of his brother, who had also betrayed him. It probably convicts his brother doubly in his eyes.
I chew the inside of my cheek, "I… I know you are angry with me Mika, but—"
"You know nothing." His voice is low, so hard… So harsh that a shiver runs down my spine. He is shutting down, taking any emotions that he may have once shown me and shoving them so deep down that I might never reach him again. My heart begins to thud in my chest and my pulse rate spikes.
"Mika, please listen to me."
"You may call me Michael," he commands as he takes in my features. Those blue eyes are cold fire, like ice-chips, that glow with the reflection of the northern lights.
A cold sensation coils in my chest. I have to reach him. I can’t let him build up these walls between us again. If he does, I’ll never be able to get through to him.
"Mika… I mean, Michael," I tip up my chin, "I have something for you." I reach for my bag and he grabs my wrist.
"Don’t fucking touch that."
"I just want to return something that I took from you."
"Oh?"
I nod, "If you’ll only let me open my handbag."
He releases me, only to snatch my bag from me.
Jerk.
He opens the handbag, pulls out the knife, then throws the bag aside.
"Did you think you could stab me again?"
"No, Michael. It’s not that; its—"
"Shut the fuck up," he growls. "I don’t believe a word you say. Do you know how much this knife means to me? Is that why you took it?"
"Michael, please. Please, let me explain."
He laughs, "If you think you can tell me what to do, you have another think coming."
"Oh, for heaven’s sake!" I curl my fingers into fists, "Will you, for one second, stop posturing and let me explain, you macho asshole?"
He stills, then looks me up and down, "You, clearly, have no attachment to your life. It’s why you marched in here, and with my knife on you."
"That’s what I am trying to explain to you." I swallow, "I came because—"
"Shut up," he snaps, "just shut the fuck up. I have had enough of your tricks, you pathetic excuse for a woman."
I pale, "Thought I was your Beauty."
"I was, clearly, mistaken."
"I am not, though."
He frowns, "The fuck do you mean?"
"There’s a reason I returned, and with your knife." I swallow, "I want you to use it on me."
