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“I’m sorry, I was–”
“Save it!” Dennis interrupted. “Get your ass over here and pick me up. This asshole won’t give me my car keys.”
He was drunk, his words slurring and forcing me to concentrate just to understand what he was saying. A part of me had wished he would actually find some slut at the bar and spend the night with her in a motel, away from me, leaving me to enjoy one peaceful night alone.
“Did you hear what I fucking said?” he screamed, and I winced.
“I’m on my way,” I whispered.
“Hurry the fuck up!”
He hung up. I sat in bed for a few seconds, my mind racing until tears began to flow down my face.
I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t take another night of abuse. I knew exactly what would happen. I knew that, if the verbal abuse didn’t kill me on the drive back home, the physical one would be too much to bear. He was already angry, and it was typical Dennis to take that anger out on me. Picking him up meant delivering myself to a beating. Not picking him up would probably be worse.
Then get the fuck out. Leave. He’s not coming home any time soon. There’s a window of opportunity here.
I bit my lip, trying to control my sobs, and briefly glanced at the closet. In five minutes, Dennis was going to call me to make sure I was on my way. It would be another fifteen minutes before he called a cab, seething with anger on the ride back and ready to bash my skull in with his fists.
I had less than half an hour.
I hesitated for the briefest of moments, unsure of whether or not I should finally listen to the small voice in the back of my head. Then I quickly jumped out of bed, pulled my suitcase out of the closet, and began packing in a hurry.
I had half an hour.
Chapter 4: Andy
Hannah showed up at my door just as expected. Early, impatient, and immediately scanning my apartment for signs of last night.
She was like a bloodhound. Could smell pussy from a mile away, and always managed to call me out on my sexcapades. It didn’t matter if I had been fucking a girl last night, or a week before. She always knew, and to be frank, it scared me sometimes. There were nights I imagined Hannah standing by my bed while I slept, knife in hand, ready to cut off my cock. Why I had gotten myself involved with her in the first place was beyond me.
Because she’s great in bed. And has the breasts of a Greek goddess.
Both true, but not enough to make up for the Pandora’s Box of craziness that was lodged somewhere in that head of hers. The first time I had introduced her to Bobby, he had waited patiently until she excused herself to go to the bathroom, then turned to me and told me to get out while I still had all my body parts. I had laughed it off. In retrospect, I probably should have taken him much more seriously.
“Where is she?” Hannah asked after a quick inspection of the living room. It had taken her only five minutes and one room to figure it out. I was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and almost spilling half of it.
“Who?” I asked.
“The hussy you were with last night.”
I turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “What hussy?”
Hannah pointed an angry finger at me. “Don’t start with me, Andy. I know you had someone here last night.”
“You’re imagining things again,” I shot back, already beginning to fume in frustration. I shouldn’t have been acting this way. It was none of her fucking business who I brought home. We had agreed a long time ago that we wouldn’t be exclusive, but apparently, she had come to the crazy conclusion that the rule only applied to her. And I was playing along.
“Stop treating me like I’m some nutcase,” Hannah hissed. “Just man up and tell me who she is. Another college student? Were you drilling holes in younger fields, Andy?”
“Okay, first of all,” I said, turning around and shooting her an annoyed look, “where I drill holes is none of your fucking business. Second of all, you’re the one who wanted an open relationship, remember? It’s not like you’re fucking Mother Teresa, okay.”
Hannah screamed in frustration and threw her purse at me, narrowly missing my head as it hit the cabinet behind me then fell on the coffee machine. I jumped back when it toppled off the counter and smashed into pieces on the floor, coffee spreading ev
erywhere.
“What the fuck, Hannah?” I yelled.
“You asshole!” she screamed at me, racing past the kitchen counter and throwing punches at me. “You fucking bastard! I do everything for you, and you don’t even have the respect to tell me you’re fucking other women!”
