Prompt #17: You shut your mouth. How dare you say I go about things the wrong way? I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. (Love Spit Love – How soon is now)
His hands are on your throat; it's the first physical contact in months and it's somehow right that it's violent. He'll leave bruises; long, thin blue fingers on your skin, but you don't care. Bruises are temporary; they'll fade after a couple of days. The scars left by words last longer, and they're worse. You prefer the physical pain, you think distractedly as his fingers tighten around your neck.
You wonder if this time he'll kill you, and you think that's fitting too. You deserve worse; for all that you've done to him.
But he can't, any more than you could kill him, and you draw a deep breath as the pressure on your windpipe lifts.
"What can you possibly say to make your actions acceptable?"
You tilt your head and smile in the way you know infuriates him. Maybe you like seeing him angry. Maybe you want him to hurt you again. "Truth takes time."
"I've had enough of your fucking 'truth takes time'!" He pushes you against the wall, hard enough to stun you for a moment. The brick is cool against your back, and his body is warm in front of you, and suddenly you remember a time when things were still good between you. A time when you called yourself Laura and he said he loved you.
You want him to touch you in a different way.
He remembers too, you think. You feel his body soften against yours; his breathing changes. You twist your fingers in his hair and kiss him.
You don't want him to be gentle, not tonight. There will be other nights, and maybe one day you can give him the explanation he needs to hear. But not tonight.
"I hate you," he whispers, and you smile. It's not you he hates, it's that there's still this connection – this fire – between you, and it drives him crazy.
You bite his neck, then push him away.
"Bitch," he says and steps towards you. You put your hand on his chest and shake your head, then slowly unbutton your blouse. You manage two buttons before he rips the rest free, then spins you so you're facing the wall. His hand slides across your belly and he laughs against your neck. "Now who's the tease?"
He tugs your pants down over your hips, and there is nothing tender about the way he fucks you.
"I hate you," he says again, but there is no conviction in his tone. You turn around again and kiss him, then get dressed.
"I'll be in touch."
He's still standing there, leaning against the wall with one hand, looking completely lost, when you slip quietly out there room. There's a part of you that wants to return to him, to take him by the hand and lead him to bed, to make love to him, but you keep walking.
There will be other nights.