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“Leave now,” I command, trying to pull my most imposing voice out from the depths of my throat. “I’m not going to do a thing you tell me.”
“Goddamn it. You know what? I’m really not shocked that your last bodyguard couldn’t handle you. You’re the most petty, selfish person I’ve ever met. I’m trying to help you, so let me fucking help you!” he replies, right on the verge of losing his temper with me.
I wish he just would by now. I want to see the extent of his fury.
I toss an empty water bottle onto the floor near his feet, bouncing it into the wall behind him. “Fuck you. I didn’t ask for youorIsaac to be here. Why the hell should I have ever been okay with having a grown man in my space all the time? How am I supposed to feel like that benefits me? Then you fuck me and get me pregnant, and you’re upset that I’m not doing what you say?”
He wants to scream at me so badly, I can see it in his eyes. He might even want to grab me by the shoulders and shake me a little. Maybe if I wasn’t allegedly pregnant, he would.
“You frustrate the absolute fuck out of me all the time, but I still need to do what’s best for you. So eat your goddamn food or I’ll shove it down your throat,” he growls.
There’s a long silence, and to my surprise, I don’t prefer it. I’d rather keep yelling. Maybe chaos is the only peace I know.
“What are you going to do when I start looking sick?” I ask, knowing that I’ll look ill far before I’ll be showing.
He glares at me, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
“I want to go see my mother, or my aunt Vera,” I continue, collecting myself to regain the upper hand in the argument.
He’s not pleased with my change of demeanor. He doesn’t want to be the more emotional one. After calling me immature and petty, the last thing he needs is to prove that I’m not the only one. He knows I would never let him live it down.
“What, you mean your mother, who is so fucked up on drugs that she can hardly remember your birth? And I’ve never heard of your aunt before. How do I know I can trust you with her? She’s probably the one who bought you a pregnancy test.”
As soon as I hear the wordspregnancy test,I choke. How did he find it?
“Yeah, I know about the test. I saw it in your bathroom trash can. You’re lucky that I found it before your dad did,” he says.
“Yeah? Well, at least my aunt could actually take care of me and the baby! You’re refusing to, even though this whole fucking thing is your problem, too. What are you going to do when I start showing and people start asking questions?” I ask, feeling my temporary mask of composure beginning to slip already.
“You’re getting married in a matter of days. You can’t be that far along. You’ll pass the baby off as his. Even though that crushes me, and it does hurt, it’s the right thing to do. There’s no stopping it, and if you want to continue living life as you know it, you’ll just do it,” he says, leaning closer to me.
I stare into his eyes, waiting for him to break and realize that he doesn’t want to lose me and the baby. I wait for him to come out of this emotional coma that’s kept him from seeing reason. How could he not want to be with me after all we’ve been through? Now that I’m pregnant, I can’t imagine why he would want to separate himself from me unless he was just being a coward.
Maybe that’s what I should have expected from him this whole time.
“Eat this fucking food,” he says through his teeth as he attempts to hand me the plate. “Starving yourself will do nothing for you. You can’t always get what you want, even though you always have.”
I take the plate and throw it at the wall as hard as I can. It shatters into large fragments, making a brilliantly grating sound as it breaks. His eyes shoot open, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s going to pick up one of the bigger pieces and throw it back at me.
“Okay, I’m not fucking dealing with this. I can’t do this for one more minute right now. You’re really pushing me to the edge, Mika. If you actually cared about me the way you say that you do, you would be a lot more intelligent about the way you treat me,” he continues, turning around to leave the room.
He slams the door, causing the broken pieces of the plate to clatter on the floor.
Nothing I do is working, and now I feel like I’m pushing him away forever. If he gets so sick of me that he leaves me on purpose, I’ll never forgive myself.
My stomach feels like it’s being squeezed, and even the food that’s splattered all over the wall and floor looks tempting. I can’t break my resolve like that. I would only be proving Dominik right.
After I’m certain that he’s locked himself downstairs in his basement, I leave the kitchen and make my way back upstairs to my bedroom, where I feel like I’ve spent my entire life. The feeling of my bed under me has started to feel natural instead of comforting, like I’m just returning to the place I’m supposed to be forever. I don’t want to feel this way, but there’s nothing else I can do.
All I can do is roll over onto my side where I’ve spent the last three weeks, feeling every moment bleed into the next as my life continues to lose all meaning. Every day is exactly the same, and right now the only thing that’s going to change any time soon is my wedding to Izet. I’d rather live in this purgatory for the rest of my life than marry him, but I have no choice. I never did.
I have no friends, my mother is gone, and the man I love is enraged with me.
If I think about it for too long, I’ll start to cry again. Crying doesn’t even feel good to me anymore. It’s just something that I do now, one of three or four tasks that I can perform before I’m exhausted.
At this point, I wish that this hunger strike would just kill me. I’ve made an ass of myself. Dominik thinks I’m a naïve brat, and my body is a ticking time bomb as this baby continues to grow. I have nowhere to escape to. I’m in my own personal hell.
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