I jumped. In an instant, I was scurrying back to the kitchen to lift my pan off the stove. My sausages now burnt black and doused in smoke. I dropped it into the sink, and covered my mouth to keep from inhaling the smoke but it was close to impossible. I don’t know why, maybe because my hormones were all over the place, but seeing the burnt sausages made me want to burst into tears.
Tears stung my eyes. “Can you please leave?” I choked out.
“You can’t keep doing this,” he said gently. “You can’t keep running away every time we have even the slightest argument.
I wiped my face and straightened my back, my gaze on the sink full of dishes and my burnt breakfast. “I didn’t run away,” I replied. “I had to leave.”
“And when are you coming back?”
I didn’t respond.
“I hate walking on eggshells around people,” he said. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to be careful. I don’t want to be mindful of every little thing that I do for the fear that it would offend you. So tell me, what triggered this bout of anger this time around?”
I spun back around to face him. “Nothing,” I responded. “I just wanted to leave … and I don’t want to come back.”
The frown on his face was so deeply etched into his forehead, he almost transformed into a different person right in front of me. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said, my gaze somewhere just above his shoulder.
The way he smiled, his gaze dropping to the ground as though I were kidding myself made me very afraid.
I held my breath, waiting … for what he would say.
Finally, he spoke, “Okay.” Then he turned around to leave.
I was taken aback.
As he disappeared from sight and headed towards the doorway, I stared in shock.
It was over? Just like that? New tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks once again and I couldn’t even be bothered to stop them. I wanted to go after him, to stop him. We couldn’t be over … I didn't know how to get over him, or if it was even possible. I looked down at my still incredibly flat stomach and wondered why I was so scared to ask … that we be more than we were now.
Judi’s words came clearly to mind and I was reminded once more of why.
Brent was lethal and ruthless. To the world, to himself, to those he loved and to those he hated. He lived by his own rules, with little regard to anyone or anything else and nothing could break that. It was hopeless.
Suddenly, there was the sound of footsteps marching towards me, and I looked up surprised, wondering who had barged into the apartment.
Brent appeared, the counter separating us.
“Brent?” I whispered
He stared at my soaked face and walked up to me. “Why are you crying, Freya?”
I cleared my throat to find my voice. “Hormones,” I said to him. “Don’t mind me. Why did you come back? Please leave.”
“Freya,” he called out my name.
I took a deep breath as I knew I couldn’t take his presence anymore because I was a breath away from pleading with him to create a space for me in his heart, but at the same time, given the history with him and my father, I didn’t know if that was even a feasible or a righteous request.
I turned back to him and for a moment, my vision blurred. I staggered backwards, gripping the edge of the counter behind me to stable myself. “For Pete’s sake, Brent, just fucking leave.”
“Freya, what do you want? Is that what you really want?”
I lifted my gaze to his at the question, but he knew just as well as I did that my mouth wouldn’t move. I could never ask him the things I wanted to. Did you ask Judi to take over my mother’s boutique? Did you sleep with her? Do you know I’m pregnant?
“Are you doing this just to see how much you can torment me? How far you can go and I will still come back begging for more?” he asked, his voice low, but it was clear he was doing his utmost to control his temper.
I blinked, my gaze expressionless.
“Is it about the money? Do you want more?”
I felt as though someone struck me in the head with a hammer, my eyes widening in such shock that he could still say this to me after all this time. I did not know what I grabbed and it was only after I had flung it towards him that I saw that it was the ceramic vase of wooden spoons.
Brent dodged the incoming attack and we both watched as it crashed into the wall at the opposite end of the room and shattered into pieces.
“You bastard!” I cursed. “Yeah, it’s the money. I want more. I want everything you have. Give me that and I’ll come back to you!” I was panting so hard with fury that I could barely speak. When he just continued to glare at me, I lost it and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Get out of my fucking home!”
Brent Lucan took one last look at me, and stormed out of my sight, slamming the door behind him.
I sunk to the floor, more dejected than I had ever felt before in my life. I fell asleep right there, and when my mom returned home that was the state she found me in. Ceramic shattered on the floor, spoons everywhere, a kitchen in complete disarray and her daughter semi coherent.
I vaguely remembered pushing her gently away as she tried to help me to bed, and then I fell asleep. I awakened later, overwhelmed with grief. I covered my mouth with my hand as I fought not to choke from the rawness of the wounds inside me.