❛❛I spy with my little eye, a little lie.❜❜
Catherine Moore's courage to leave a cruel and abusive Maxwell Kelvin led her to the unforgiving streets with no roof over her head. Just when things couldn't get any worse, fate deposited her at the doors...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My fingers tap against the oak table, my heart. Every time the bell on top of the door of the café rings, my eyes try to avoid who is coming in. The waiter serves my tea, I give her a smile as a thank you since my voice is on paused. I suggested we meet in a public area, due...well we know why.
I take a small sip of my tea, my finger trailing the lining. Then the bell rings, I look up and my eyes lock with brown ones. He looks so different, so clean and fresh. As if he has not drank in a few weeks. His beard was cut and perfected and his hair is gelled back. Not like Adonis' messy one. But cute messy. He catches me, and I turn away.
The chair in front of me is pulled and Maxwell settles down, the waiter comes up and hands him a menu to which he thanks her for. "Hello, Catherine." He whispers, breathe in and out Cathy.
Breathe in and out. He will not hurt you. He will not.
"Hello Maxwell."
"Just a quick thrust baby..."
"You look beautiful." He gives me a smile, but this time. A sympathetic one.
"I guess this is your first time seeing my face when it isn't bruised for a while." It slipped out, it really did. He sucks in his bottom lip, nodding his head as if he knew he deserved that one.
"I am so sorry Catherine. For the way i treated you, for the way-"
"You beat me, raped me, and terrorised me all day and night. Yes, I'm sorry for that as well." I take a big breath as I sip my tea, my chest expanding. He sighs, embarrassed by what he has done. "Do you remember what you did to me while you were intoxicated? Do you remember when I was convinced, I was pregnant? You repeatedly kicked me in the stomach...and now...I'll never be able to have children..."
What struck me was that I had never considered the times he had damaged me. I guess it mortified me so much that I couldn't recall it. But now that I'm venting to him, everything is coming out. Everything is fresh in my mind. And I despise it. Because I am filled with remorse. Do I feel bad? I'm not sure how that's possible.
"Do you remember when you wanted to fuck me and I begged you, 'Maxwell-please stop.' I begged you as if-as if I had no right to say no..." Tears swim on the surface of his eyes.
He stayed silent.
I watch his Adams apple bob up and down, "what did you say to me?" I whisper.
He does not respond.
"Just one thrust baby." It was all coming out of my mouth. "One thrust lead to a lifetime of terror, a lifetime of fear of sleeping in a fucking bed. I sleep in a fucking cupboard because of you." I wanted to jump over this table and beat him senseless. "Why would-why would you do that to me Maxwell?" I wanted to cry; I wanted it all to fall down my face. Maxwell pushes the mug away and sits up as if he did not expect me to speak back.
