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“So you’re going to deal with this before it escalates, and I end up with a devastated daughter-in-law and a furious son?”
“I said I would.”
“And you’re going to pull yourself together? Because you need to, badly.”
“I will,” I grunt.
“Just the same, you will understand if I stay around for a while. I, erm, think it might be wise for me to keep an eye on things.” He needs to get out of here before my fist finds his face and rearranges it.
Right now, I’d agree to anything short of castration if it meant getting him out of here before I snap. “Whatever you think is necessary. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get my day started.”
With another pointed look toward the bedroom door, Xander mutters, “Yes, it appears you do.”
He shakes his head, wearing a grim smirk. I’d love nothing more than to wipe off his face. I only have to withstand another ten seconds or so of this. He’ll be gone soon. I’m strong enough to hold on until he’s gone. Still, he steps out of the room not a moment too soon. Immediately, I turn away from the door, charge across the room, and flip the coffee table, scattering everything on it.
It’s not enough, so I turn to one of the end tables and pick up the lamp, which I then throw to the floor. The sound of breaking glass is discordant music to my ears.
But it isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough. It won’t wipe out the memory of Xander’s judgment. Being told what to do. The sense of nothing about my life being private. Belonging only to me.
The familiar craving begins to build deep inside. The desire to break someone. To make them suffer. Bleed. Die.
And there’s no substitution for it.
