me. But I don’t see it coming, and my head spins to the side as I flex my jaw, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I can hardly fucking breathe. Anger lights in my blood, and it takes a fucking effort to keep my fists against the wall and not on her as I turn back to face her. I don’t want to hurt her. Not like that. But my blood pressure is skyrocketing, and it’s the fucking blow that I can taste in the back of my throat. She isn’t wrong, the things she’s accusing me of. She isn’t wrong, and I hate that all the more.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Lucifer. Get out of my fucking face.” She glances behind me, the sun not even up and we’re already fucking fighting. She couldn’t sleep well and I decided, one more time, I’d try to be there for her. Clearly, that was a fucking mistake. “I want to be alone.”
I bite my tongue, trying to hold it all in. All the hurtful things I want to say. The shit that’s been boiling in my blood for a couple of months now. She’s hurt that I stabbed him. The man that made her life a living hell. The one who never belonged with us and has no place in her life. I know what he did to his sisters. I know how they suffered. My father told me that. The 6 claimed it made him one of us. They didn’t even find one of the bodies and I feel sick wondering what he did to her.
Now, Sid is mad because I did the right fucking thing.
Fuck that.
I don’t hold it in anymore.
“Nah, I’m not moving.”
Her eyes snap to mine.
“You’re fucking testing me, Sid. You’re pushing me and I’ve been nothing but patient with you. The coke? The fucking…women? All of that is your goddamn fault for pushing me away—”
She shoves me, and I step back, my hands going to my side. “Don’t put that on me. I’ve done nothing but exactly what you want me to do.” She throws her hands up. “I’ve stayed in this house and haven’t gone anywhere to please you and—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I wipe my hand over my mouth, regretting the words as hurt flickers in her eyes, but I can’t stop myself. It’s true, about the coke. It’s true, and when I got up this morning, it was true as I bumped a line then, too. But I need it. I can’t keep up with her mood swings. With the fact that no matter what I do for her, it won’t be enough because I’m not him.
And the things I’m seeing, the voices in my head…it’s getting worse. They’re getting louder.
I need her, but I can’t figure out how to talk to her.
I drop my hand. I still regret those words. She pled with me to stop hurting her, weeks ago. And I haven’t. I fucking haven’t. “I just…I’m sorry. I want to keep you safe and I love you, and I don’t—”
She doesn’t wait. She just walks off, heads down the hall and up the stairs.
A moment later, I hear the door slam.
I wonder how long it’ll take for me to put my hands on her, because I meant what I said, despite my apology. She’s fucking testing me.
And when hours pass and we decide to talk again, it gets worse.
I throw a glass against the wall, watch it splinter into pieces.
She misses him. This morning, she told me she doesn’t want our child, and just now, she’s fucking telling me she misses him.
Over and over and fucking over.
Now she’s standing beside the wall I just threw my rocks glass at, her face pale, her body stiff, every muscle in her small frame coiled with tension.
That could’ve hit her.
We both know it.
Doesn’t matter that she’s thrown a wine bottle at my head before. That was…before we were together. Before we were married. That’s a line I shouldn’t have fucking crossed but I can’t seem to stop.
I glance at the lines of coke on the table that she started yelling at me about. Then I hear it again, in my head. How much she misses him. How she just wants to “check on him.”
“Sid, I’m sorry, I—”
“This is why now isn’t the right time,” she snarls at me, her eyes narrowed, throwing back her words about wanting an abortion in my face. “We can’t have a child. We can’t even