Drunk // jjk

TWENTY-FIVE || Not For Him

Evie doesn't speak. It's as if her dulcet voice has been ripped from her throat and she is only able to cry in agony.

Taya attempts the back and forth banter with Evie but she gives up when Evie doesn't acknowledge her presence. Evie's sullen expression remains locked on my face.

As soon as Taya departs, I open the door wider so that my Evie may enter. Large tears follow the same path as their predecessors through her makeup smeared cheeks and they dangle from both sides of her jaw.

My sweetheart rushes to bury herself into my side. My left side, which has always been Evie's safe space, welcomes her frame just as it did the first time she found her home there.

Closing the door and locking it, I wrap my arms around her. With a soft kiss to her hairline I gently ask "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Evie doesn't reply. She sobs harder.

As I hold her, I feel her stomach growl against my side. I am nearly positive she hasn't eaten since the breakfast I made for her this morning.

Fucking Martin.

Evie doesn't leave her safe zone as I cook and I am perfectly fine with that. What does concern me is that she still hasn't said a single word.

She curls into my lap when we sit at the kitchen table with her arms around my shoulders and her face buried into the side of my neck. Evie refuses to move her hands away from my body; she only takes a bite of her food when I feed it to her.

We keep our usual routine heading to the shower after our meal. I eagerly await for the moment she finally speaks to tell me what has her so distraught.

Mindfully, I unbutton the small pearls that hold the front of Evie's burgundy silk blouse closed. The volume of Evie's cries soften but the tears refuse to lessen.

My teeth grind on their own at the layers under her clothing. Her brassiere seems to nearly mash her full breasts down two or three cup sizes to keep her body proportionate to the bounded shape of her torso.

Hooks, zippers, and velcro constrain the stunning form of my love's body. It takes several minutes to remove Evie from her torture devices and I am pained by the new blooming marks and indentations on her skin.

My disgust must have been audible as Evie feels the need to explain.

"I gained more weight than Martin initially thought. Without that special bra and fancy shape wear, I wouldn't have been able to fit into my outfit tonight and I would have run the risk of losing my sponsorship without those clothes."

"Fucking Martin," I grumble. My fingers have absent-mindedly began to trace the lines left behind on her stomach.

"I shouldn't have eaten just now. I have a meeting with a nutritionist/ dietitian who is going to personalize a weight loss plan for me-"

"They're fucking wrong!" I exclaim.

She flinches, her head turns to the side as her eyes cinch shut from the loudness of my outburst. More tears find their way over her cheeks.

My heart aches that I caused this reaction.

"Your body is perfect just as it is, Evie. Don't believe any different."

Standing in the shower causes another near explosion from me except this time it isn't her words that trigger my anger. Her scrubby sponge clenched in my itchy fist, I glare at the darkening skin on my darling Evie's back.

I try to keep my voice level. "Evie.. what in the fuck happened?"

"I fell," she croaks. "I promise."