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The tears feel like they’re a part of me. I can’t seem to stop crying every single day since the incident, and I hate that this is the type of person they’ve turned me into.
I thought people said that crying was supposed to cleanse the soul but that’s definitely not working for me at all.
When I can’t take being near him or the silence any longer, I quickly get off the bed and head into the bathroom. It’s not even a second later when I hear him get off the bed and follow me.
Ugh! That makes me angry again. It’s crazy how fast I can switch from being calm in his presence to spitting mad. That’s another one of my bad habits and never-ending cycle.
I’m mad, he does some shit to calm me down—usually forcefully— and then I go back to being mad again when whatever spell he put me under fades away. Even that is getting too much to deal with.
I go to slam the bathroom door closed but he’s faster than me and pushes the door open until he’s inside with me.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Waiting for you to shower,” he says like this isn’t weird at all.
“Can’t you fucking wait outside like a normal fucking dickhead?” I yell at him. Yes, I’m aware that I said fucking twice in the same question, but in my defense, he’s got me that mad again.
“No.”
“What the fuck do you mean no?”
“No, no. I’m not waiting outside because you can’t be trusted to be left to your own devices, and watch the language, babe. A lady doesn’t use such language,” he says with a smirk.
“Suck my nonexistent dick, dickhead! Fine. Do whatever you want, you creep!” I snap before angrily taking off my shirt and tossing it in his face just to be a brat. He raises an eyebrow at me as if he’s asking if that’s all I’ve got.
Ugh. screw his ass! It’s all I’ve got right now because there’s limited options when you’re locked in a bathroom.
I stomp into the shower and turn it on, to the hottest setting I can manage while turning my back to him. I move under the spray and just stand there staring at the wall. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t need a fucking babysitter but it seems like I have one, regardless.
A growl leaves him before I hear him come into the shower too. He turns the water back to a bearable setting and grabs the bodywash and sponge before he begins to lather it all over me.
“Stop acting like a damn child,” he says while running his hand along my body.
“Whatever. I don’t need you watching my every move!” I snap at him.
“Clearly you do because you could’ve given yourself serious burns just now,” he snaps.
“Stop being so damn dramatic! That was nothing.” I huff as he spins me around and backs me up against the wall.
“The longer you keep acting out, the longer I’ll be glued to you. So, if you want me to give you some space, act right,” he mutters before backing away and pulling me under the water again to wash the suds off me.
When that’s done, he pulls me out of the shower and wraps me up in a towel. Then he puts me to sit on the toilet seat as he tends to the cuts on my arms. He rubs some antiseptic cream on the cuts before wrapping them up in bandages.
He takes me back into my room and dresses me before placing me to sit on my bed. What. The. Hell?
“Don’t move from this spot,” he says before going to his room to change his wet clothes. He comes back in a matter of moments and I roll my eyes at him. It looks like he’s really scared of me doing something to myself. If it wasn’t so sad, I’d be laughing.
“Don’t you have to go to school or something?” I snap when he motions for me to follow him.
“We’re not going today,” he says.
“Why?”
“You’re not in any state for school today.”
“That doesn’t mean that you can’t go.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone.”
