Cold-hearted Carelessness
Tom had never been a patient man. He was not accustomed to waiting for any period of time, for any other person, no matter the occasion. While he appeared to be the perfect representation of ease, he was lavishly dressed, newspaper in hand as he lounged lazily, his thoughts alternated between appraising the grandiose lobby surrounding him and timing the women he was waiting for. His impatient nature threatened to take over, and Tom considered leaving the women after he reached the count of 248 seconds. Begrudgingly, a few more seconds passed as dainty hands finally appeared at the tip of his page, covering the words that were sprinkled on the paper.
Elizabeth, the lady in question, had made Tom's acquaintance during her waitressing shift at an elaborate occasion the weekend before last. Her lively tenacity was an enigma he was unused to and as a result he was ardently insistent on having her. Elizabeth also, in her attachment, had decisively fallen deeply for both his pocket and his powerful presence.
As the couple progressed, with Tom leading, the tedious minutes ticked on and in their haste, strides grew longer and the stops shorter with glances of anticipation in between. While Tom conducted his 'business' with his new mistress, at home lay a blissfully ignorant woman, who had renewed her sentiments of love not two weeks ago.
As Tom entered the threshold, there was no sign of Elizabeth's husband. She followed behind with great vigour, eager to escape the street into the privacy of her small, politely furnished apartment.
The chair groaned beneath Tom's weight as Elizabeth prepared his tea, lingering on the tiniest of details wanting to appeal to his taste. The apartment was startlingly much smaller than Tom was accustomed to, with only one bathroom, a bedroom and the bare minimum of other necessary amenities. A chocolate tinge covered the entirety of the living space; dark worn couches, chipping wooden tableware and morbid paintings surrounded the rooms, as every single window remained covered in brown blankets casting a forlorn shadow on the room. Tom spoke in good humour with confidence that dazed her.
"Name your present."
Elizabeth only needed a second to process his request- it was her birthday after all.
"Leave her." She replied decisively.
The words hung in the air taking a tangible quality as the implication of her statement echoed in Tom's thoughts. He scowled.
"That's not going to happen."
His tone left no room for argument and the certainty in which he said it irritated her.
"Daisy, that's her name, isn't it?" She spat in frustration. Her intense infatuation rendered her blind to the clenching of his fists and the tightening of his jaw.
Tom cringed and his humour faded. Caprice took its place as his demeanour changed entirely. He was jolted into a set of memories of a similar occurrence, a jab of pain resonated in his chest. The memory of her lying lifeless, thrown carelessly on the ground and covered in blankets unwillingly flooded his consciousness. The chair clattered unwanted to the floor as he stood up and hurled the teacup onto the wall, watching shards littering the ground. He wanted to scream out in frustration and yet strangely he wanted to relieve himself by producing tears. The feeling was foreign to him; he was indecisive in how to react to it and his feet seemed to move independent of his mind as he began pacing on the spot.
Elizabeth remained basked in her ignorance and foolishly believed his pacing to be a result of indecision towards her request. She stood to placate him. As if realizing once again realizing his surroundings, Tom stalked across the room.
The resonating slap travelled throughout the room, the sheer force pushing Elizabeth into a heap on the floor. The stinging sensation on her cheek caused her eye to tear up unwillingly.
"Learn your place." He growled the words out with such vehemence, his eyes displaying such immense hatred; she wondered where on earth it had come from.
His control was ebbing as he succumbed to a simmering rage, drunk with the power he now held over her. His foot connected with her chest as she heaved through glazed eyes, tears falling freely down her face. The prickling pain piercing her petite frame, momentarily paralysing Elizabeth. Tom's face formed a sinister smirk as he saw her cower at the resounding power at his boot. Smiling and satisfied, Tom slammed the door and walked out of the apartment, briefly fixing his suit jacket, once again leaving another man to clean up the mess he had left in the wake of his carelessness.
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