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Eden
“What I do withmymoney is my own damn business!” Kyle roars, his face blood red with fury.
The glass he was holding shatters against the wall a split-second later, narrowly missing my head.
I flinch as whatever he was drinking splatters against my left side.
Chest heaving, the veins in his throat pulsing, Kyle clenches his fists and stalks angrily towards me.
Instinctually, I cower, pressing back against the wall.
And hate myself a little bit more for it.
As Kyle’s big legs quickly eat up the distance between us, Iloathemyself for putting myself in this situation.
I should have known better. Multiple people warned me I was making a mistake when I agreed to marry him. That he was hot-headed and prone to temper tantrums. But I was young, naïve, and fucking stupid. Looking for an escape from my shitty home situation.
He offered me hope. Stability. A way out of a hole I thought I would never be able to climb out of on my own.
He promised to always protect me and take care of me. To love me and be by my side, whatever may come.
He pretty much sold me the fucking Brooklyn Bridge and my dumbass bought it.
I knew better. I fuckingknewbetter, and still I fell for it.
Everyone in my life has let me down one way or another.
Yet, somehow, I thought he would be different.
“If you don’t like it, you can get a fucking job!” Kyle screams in my face as he reaches me.
Cringing, I focus on resisting the urge to bring my hands up to shield myself because I know it will only make him angrier.
Kyle is a big guy. He’s got at least five inches on me and a ton of muscle to go with it. He’s intimidating when he’s not angry. When he’s furious, he’s downright terrifying.
His fist slams against the wall beside me and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“I’m fucking tired of you nagging me to death!” he roars, almost blowing out my eardrums and spraying me with spit.
Wild, rage-filled eyes locking on mine, he dares me to give him a reason to hurt me. To push this further.
I know from past experiences that any little thing I do will be used as an excuse for his actions.
So I resort to doing what I do best.
I force myself to donothing.
Tofeelnothing.
No anger. No hurt.
I flip the switch I found inside me long ago, turning everything off.
The fear, the need to survive, the hopelessness.
Whatever little love I ever had for him…
