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His fists clenched as he paced. “I said, ‘No. You don’t’.”
Asshole. Did he think I wanted to be there? Did he think I chose to live in a home about as safe as an alleyway after dark? Did he think that my dreams every night were for a mother to run off, a father who dealt drugs like they were candy on Halloween, and a dozen dangerous druggies as my doting “brothers”?
I leapt to my feet, ready to yell back at him, ready to attack—
“Watch the floor!”
My foot stopped just an inch above the sharp porcelain shards of the bowl. The fact that I had almost cut myself enraged Conor even further.
“Goddammit,” he muttered as his fists shook. “Goddammit, goddammit!”
He was mad enough to punch a brick wall. Hell, if he hadn’t been so worried about me cutting my foot just seconds earlier, I would have thought he was mad enough to punch me. I stared at him in shocked silence as he continued to pace erratically.
Finally, he said, his voice shaking, “Extra blankets are in the hall closet.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“There must be a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.”
“What are you—”
“I’ll work on getting you a key tomorrow.”
“A key?” I repeated dumbly.
It hadn’t yet sunk in what Conor was saying.
The rage in his voice had been replaced with his fierce determination. “You do not live there anymore. Do you hear me, Aurnia?”
Before I could even manage a numb nod, Conor stormed out of the kitchen. I flinched when the front door of the small apartment slammed shut. I stood there for a few confused, stunned moments before I began to pick up the mess.
I found a rag to wipe up the spilled whiskey, the splatters of milk. I tossed the big shards into the trash and found a dustpan for the littler pieces. I cleaned the teacup in sink along with a few other dishes that had been left over there. I dried them. I put them away. I glanced around the cleaned kitchen.
What else did people do before they went to bed?
Before they went to bed in their own normal homes?
