Unintended

Why did I keep letting her do it?

She circled around another five times before she sat back down on the sofa again, and since she was done, I finally stood up. The tops of my thighs ached and I widened my eyes, trying to force the tears to fuck off. I never cried. Refused to let her emasculate me any more than she already had.

It actually hurt to walk to the kitchen area, but I didn’t stop. I placed my cup in the sink then went to the bathroom and locked the door. Hopefully, she would stay on the phone for a while longer so I could get my head together. Get over the pain. I leaned against the sink, lifting my head to look in the mirror.

Aside from the slight redness around my eyes, nobody looking at me would have known what I went through. Nobody would have known I had a girlfriend who hurt me on a regular basis.

Nobody would have known that I was sick of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened up and lowered my PJ trousers to see what she’d done to me.

My right thigh had a very distinct heel-shaped mark, bright red and embedded into my skin, a bruise already starting to form around it. My left thigh had a similar mark, though not quite as prominent. Both of them hurt like a bitch, and I hoped those marks would fade in time, because I really didn’t want a permanent reminder.

Probably the only Christmas gift you’re going to get.

The thought cut into me like a knife.

What a fucking idiot I was. I’d spent a small fortune on gifts for her. Gifts I’d wrapped and hidden, ready for Christmas morning, in the hope that we’d have one day when things would be good between us. When I didn’t have to censor every word. But from her actions that morning, it didn’t look very likely. And my thought that I probably wouldn’t get a gift from her… God. If she was the girl I first met for one goddamn day, I wouldn’t care. I just wanted a sign that she actually cared.

I didn’t get one.

She spent the rest of her day getting ready for her Christmas Eve night out. I wasn’t invited on this one, and that was fine with me. I didn’t want to be in pubs. I’d have much preferred if she stayed in with me, but that wasn’t an option for her. Being at home alone was preferable to being out with her and her annoying friends. When she left the flat at half past seven, in a cloud of perfume and hairspray, she just about managed to say goodbye. The only thing of note that happened that night was Evie sending me a quick message to wish me a Happy Christmas, and saying that she would message in a few days, once the festivities were over. That was the only thing that made me smile all day. A glimpse of daylight in my dark world.

“Merry Christmas!”

Hands on my arm, shaking me, woke me from my sleep. Through my haze, the clock on the bedside table told me it was two a.m. The stench of alcohol and sweat hit me and made me feel sick. I didn’t even want to look at her.

I’d spent my evening watching crap on TV. I’d even cracked open a couple of beers myself, but I’d only had enough to ease my thoughts, my misery, to a dull hum. I was nowhere near drunk, though, now she’d come back in that state, I wished I’d had a few more.

“Merry Christmas,” I muttered back, trying to turn over away from her. She pulled me back though, grabbing my shoulder and tugging me in her direction. I kept my eyes closed but I could feel her leaning down to kiss me. For a second, I let her, but when she started to pull the covers off me, I stopped her, pulling them back up.

She giggled. “Oh, playing hard to get, are we?” Her leg moved over me, so she was straddling me, and she tried to kiss me again.

“Don’t,” I said, pulling back from her.

I felt her body stiffen before she tried once more, and finally, my eyes opened to glare at her. She looked a fucking state. Her hair was a mess, and one of her fake eyelashes was starting to peel off.

“Get off,” I told her.

Her eyes widened. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“You heard me.”

She leaned over me, her wine-infused breath blowing all over my face. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

I wasn’t sure what it was about those words that triggered everything, but I shoved her off me and climbed out of bed. It was Christmas Day, for fuck’s sake. She’d been out of the house all night, she hadn’t spoken to me all day, and now she wanted something from me?

“Me?” I shouted. “No, Natalie! Who the hell do you think you are? Because I haven’t fucking recognised you for months!”

I saw the anger beginning to build in her eyes, in her body, and she flew at me, ready to slam her fists into me, but I grabbed her wrists to stop her. I wasn’t sure where my sudden strength had come from, but she was so stunned and furious that I’d stopped her, she spat in my face.

I dropped one of her hands to wipe it away and she slapped me. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!”

“That’s how it’s going to be, is it?” I asked, quietly. “You always having the last word.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “That’s how it’s going to be.”

I shook my head, walking around the room, unsure of where I was going. All I knew was that I was done. With her. With all of it.