Escaping poison

Pilot

Lance and I weren't exactly the 'perfect' couple everyone thought us out to be. High school sweethearts going to the same college with marriage in mind. Is what we told everybody. We were the exact opposite of perfect the way I see it. We've been on and off for a couple of years now.

It wasn't a healthy thing but we did it anyways. There were days where he'd come running back to apologize, and I'd always forgive him knowing everything was going to repeat itself. That was how we worked. It was a routine. Whether broken up or still together, nothing changed. We did the same things we did every day. We ate together, showered together, lived together, cooked together, and had sex together, all the things couples should do. I think.

But sometimes it's not always us fucking each other, but we'd fuck other people. Which was what had been happening upstairs in our shared bedroom.

I had just got back home from my part-time job and the first sound that had to have rung through my ears was a women's voice. Moaning "Fuck" every time I took a step forward to a new space. Walking upstairs I wriggled the door handle but it wouldn't budge. Fists on the door, banging away as the noises vibrated through the house.

"Open the fucking door"
My voice sounded hoarse and dry. I needed water if the loud noises escaping my mouth were actually going to amount to something.
He knew I was standing at the other side of the door, he knew I hated it when he brought other women back to our house. And yet he still does this shit.
"Lance open this door"
I couldn't have sounded anymore clearer. But that didn't stop him. His voice returned, but not only his. The woman's as well. Again and again and again. Moaning. The hard slaps against her while Lance kept thrusting inside her. I could hear every slap, every thud, every sound, every moan, every cry, going right. Through. My. Ears.

"Lance stop this!"
He didn't stop.

"Please stop"
He didn't listen

"I told you not to bring women to our house anymore, Lance"
He ignored me

"Are you even fucking listening to me?"
He groaned

"Why?"
He didn't answer

I nodded my head accepting this as his response. Walking back downstairs with every sound on constant replay in my head, I grabbed my keys as well as my purse, leaving the house once again. I wasn't gonna stay in a place where I'd hear my boyfriend fucking someone else while I'm in the house. Should I even call him a boyfriend?. I didn't know what to think or where I was going, all I knew was I needed a drink and a few friends.

~~~

"Khloe I think you've had enough"
My friend Broady snatched the shot out of my hand, downing it for himself. I shot him a glare which he gladly returned. I wasn't in the mood for any bullshit right now and he knew that. Even so he still gets on my nerves with no care.
"As much as I love you Broady, I'm fighting the urge to punch you right now"

Broady was my bestfriend, as well as the person who knew everything about me and Lance. The first person really. I started telling him bit by bit about what was really happening throughout our relationship about 2 years ago. Safe to say he looked like a train blowing steam out of his head. With each and every time I spoke words to him about my relationship the more fume that would pop out of his ears. After each and every vent, there's always pieces of advice following after. As much as I do appreciate the concern Broady has for me, I wasn't the type to listen willingly, even if it meant he was right.

He tried giving me advice of leaving him. Something that even I myself noticed throughout our relationship. Even so I just couldn't do that. Why? You may think. Trust me I've been asking myself that question for a while now.