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I then tap the messages from Julie.
The last one sent was a photo of her in a sexy dress. A dress that is nowhere near appropriate for work.
I scroll their conversations for a long time. They’ve been talking for a long time. There’s a lot of texts about work stuff, but in amongst that are very suggestive messages from Julie. On quite a few occasions, she’s let him know she wanted to hook up. She promised him super explicit things. He hasn’t ever replied back with anything sexual, but he hasn’t exactly told her he’s not interested.
He hasn’t reminded her that he’s fucking engaged.
“Kristen.”
My head snaps up and I meet Johnathon’s eyes. He does not look pleased to see me with his phone. I can’t find it in me to care.
I hold the phone up. It feels far heavier in my hand than it is, but then, it’s the thing between me and happiness right now. “Who the fuck is Julie?”
He scowls. “Don’t use that kind of language. It doesn’t suit you.”
I grip the phone harder. “I don’t give a fuck what suits me, Johnathon. I care that Julie told you she wants to get on her knees and suck your dick under your desk, and that you didn’t bother to correct her thinking that you’re available to have your dick sucked by anyone other than me.” I throw the phone at him as anger crowds my veins. “Tell me who she is!”
He ducks to avoid the cell smashing into his face. “Jesus Christ, Kristen. What the fuck has gotten into you?”
I jab my finger at him, seeing only red. “You! Months of you treating me like shit has gotten into me! And now, Julie! You need to explain that to me because if you don’t, I think I may do something very fucking bad to you.”
“Julie’s a work colleague. Nothing more. I don’t know why she texts me that stuff. I never respond to it. You would have seen that.” He’s talking in that voice I hate. The one that saysYou’re not intelligent enough to understand this.
“Do not treat me like I’m dumb, Johnathon. I’m done with that.”
“You’re being a little hysterical now. How about we calm down and discuss this like adults.”
The scream that has been trapped in my throat my entire life lets me know it’s as done with me controlling it as I’m done with being treated like an idiot.
Hysterical?
I’ll fucking show him hysterical.
I madly reach for the first thing I can find. Locating a vase, I throw it at him. While he ducks to avoid it smashing into him, my hands take on a life of their own. They’re in a frenzy, reaching and throwing items at him. My whole body takes on a life of its own. It’s like my limbs detach from my mind, desperate to escape the hold it’s had on them for too long.
My body demands freedom.
My hands want to hit something.
My feet want to kick something.
My stomach wants a fucking end to the anxiety that’s always had it in a tight hold.
My neck is frantic for a release from the tension that never stops hurting.
I throw item after item at Johnathon. I’m looking at him while I’m doing it, but I’ve disconnected, so I’m not processing everything that’s happening. I’m only aware of his arms flying all over the place, his face turning red, and his mouth opening and closing. He’s yelling at me, but I don’t hear a word he’s saying.
I want to break every item in our home.
Trash it all.
Hurt everything.
Make it all shatter like I am.
I continue my war on Johnathon and our home for what feels like a long time. I just keep going after him, forcing him here, there, and everywhere. He’s not a small guy, but the anger that’s flooded my body gives me the edge to drive this war.
It’s not until I stumble around a coffee table that he manages to restrain me.
