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Authors: Kirsty Dallas
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irritation clouding his too handsome features.
“Charlie, it doesn’t matter. I told you I don’t care,” I snapped. “I’m only sorry that my drama interrupted your evening.” Charlie’s eyes burned with fury and his anger made my heart pound with fear. He looked livid and that’s all it took to push me into an anxiety attack. Ordinarily I would be getting ready to sucker punch the asshole, but now, timid scaredy-cat Rebecca Donavan was sweating over nothing.
“You were not the ‘shit I had to deal with’, it was just an excuse I gave Jill because I couldn’t very well say, ‘I snuck out because I was desperate to get away from you’.”
Well, that sounded a little better, but I was still pissed off and uncomfortable with the anger in his eyes. I couldn’t stop the reflexive step away from him. “Her name was Jenny, and, like I said, whatever, it’s none of my business.”
His eyes flared with fury and I took another hesitant step away from him. Before this could turn into an ugly screaming match that would only result in me balling my eyes out like a two year old, I turned and quickly locked myself away in the spare bedroom. I could hear Charlie muttering and cursing, but at least he made no attempt to come into my room. I sank down on the bed and lifted my knees up under my chin, hugging them close to me. I hated this, I hated everything about this life I was suddenly living. As lovely as Mercy’s home was, it wasn’t my home. I hated the tears that seemed never ending, I hated the nightmares, I hated the pills I was taking, and I hated the fear. But most of all, I hated the trepidation I had just felt towards Charlie. I knew he would never hurt me, but I was officially no longer in control of my emotions. And now I was fucking crying, again . I cried so hard and long it made me feel sick and my eyes were stinging with the force of my tears. I didn’t even stop crying, I just drifted off to sleep with my cheeks still damp.
When I woke the next morning, Charlie had already left for work and Mercy had just gotten home from the nightshift at the shelter. She looked exhausted, which made me change my mind about what I had planned to ask her. I woke up this morning with my mind made up, staunch determination flooding my foggy brain—I needed to go home. I didn’t want to go home, but I needed to. I needed to face my fears and be on my home turf again. I needed a ride though, but Mercy looked so tired I wasn’t about to ask her to turn around and drive me back to the other side of town. As soon as she retreated to her bedroom for some shut-eye, I grabbed a pen and wrote her a quick note so she wouldn’t worry. I packed my few things and called a cab. It arrived twenty minutes later and I climbed in, giving the driver the address to my house. The whole way there I nervously bit at my sore lip. My injuries were healing quickly, most of the swelling was gone, and the bruising had morphed from bad, to worse, to not so bad. My ribs were still sore and would likely take another couple of weeks to repair. It was my head that needed to be worked on now. I needed to cleanse the asshole who had attacked me from my thoughts. I needed to fight the nightmares away, but I had no idea how. Facing my first demon, my home, was my first priority. I didn’t want my home to be a demon, I didn’t want to be afraid of my one safe place.
As we pulled onto my street, my heart started beating like an irregular drum, and my palms were sweating. I moved on autopilot as I paid the driver and climbed out of the cab. Now standing in the front yard of my little cottage, the double story monstrosities that surrounded it made it look even smaller. It looked just the same as always: light, cozy and homey. I stood there for the longest time, telling myself I was simply admiring the familiar structure, when in fact I was just delaying the inevitable. I picked up my bag and nervously strolled toward the steps that led up to the small
“Charlie, it doesn’t matter. I told you I don’t care,” I snapped. “I’m only sorry that my drama interrupted your evening.” Charlie’s eyes burned with fury and his anger made my heart pound with fear. He looked livid and that’s all it took to push me into an anxiety attack. Ordinarily I would be getting ready to sucker punch the asshole, but now, timid scaredy-cat Rebecca Donavan was sweating over nothing.
“You were not the ‘shit I had to deal with’, it was just an excuse I gave Jill because I couldn’t very well say, ‘I snuck out because I was desperate to get away from you’.”
Well, that sounded a little better, but I was still pissed off and uncomfortable with the anger in his eyes. I couldn’t stop the reflexive step away from him. “Her name was Jenny, and, like I said, whatever, it’s none of my business.”
His eyes flared with fury and I took another hesitant step away from him. Before this could turn into an ugly screaming match that would only result in me balling my eyes out like a two year old, I turned and quickly locked myself away in the spare bedroom. I could hear Charlie muttering and cursing, but at least he made no attempt to come into my room. I sank down on the bed and lifted my knees up under my chin, hugging them close to me. I hated this, I hated everything about this life I was suddenly living. As lovely as Mercy’s home was, it wasn’t my home. I hated the tears that seemed never ending, I hated the nightmares, I hated the pills I was taking, and I hated the fear. But most of all, I hated the trepidation I had just felt towards Charlie. I knew he would never hurt me, but I was officially no longer in control of my emotions. And now I was fucking crying, again . I cried so hard and long it made me feel sick and my eyes were stinging with the force of my tears. I didn’t even stop crying, I just drifted off to sleep with my cheeks still damp.
When I woke the next morning, Charlie had already left for work and Mercy had just gotten home from the nightshift at the shelter. She looked exhausted, which made me change my mind about what I had planned to ask her. I woke up this morning with my mind made up, staunch determination flooding my foggy brain—I needed to go home. I didn’t want to go home, but I needed to. I needed to face my fears and be on my home turf again. I needed a ride though, but Mercy looked so tired I wasn’t about to ask her to turn around and drive me back to the other side of town. As soon as she retreated to her bedroom for some shut-eye, I grabbed a pen and wrote her a quick note so she wouldn’t worry. I packed my few things and called a cab. It arrived twenty minutes later and I climbed in, giving the driver the address to my house. The whole way there I nervously bit at my sore lip. My injuries were healing quickly, most of the swelling was gone, and the bruising had morphed from bad, to worse, to not so bad. My ribs were still sore and would likely take another couple of weeks to repair. It was my head that needed to be worked on now. I needed to cleanse the asshole who had attacked me from my thoughts. I needed to fight the nightmares away, but I had no idea how. Facing my first demon, my home, was my first priority. I didn’t want my home to be a demon, I didn’t want to be afraid of my one safe place.
As we pulled onto my street, my heart started beating like an irregular drum, and my palms were sweating. I moved on autopilot as I paid the driver and climbed out of the cab. Now standing in the front yard of my little cottage, the double story monstrosities that surrounded it made it look even smaller. It looked just the same as always: light, cozy and homey. I stood there for the longest time, telling myself I was simply admiring the familiar structure, when in fact I was just delaying the inevitable. I picked up my bag and nervously strolled toward the steps that led up to the small
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