Bad Things

|Chapter One|

Where the fuck are you?

Fucking christ, Olivia. I'm on my way

Frustrated, I throw my phone into the wall. It makes a loud thud before falling to the hardwood floor. I don't make a move to get it while I listen to the muffled buzz it makes. I pour myself a shot of whiskey and down it. My face doesn't even screw up with the taste anymore, it seems I can't force my face into anything but a permanent scowl. I pour myself another shot and down it.

I finally retrieve my phone. I have seven texts that I don't plan on responding to, all calling me names and filled with a defensive narrative. I know this isn't what a relationship is supposed to be like, I just can't find it in me to walk away.

Jackson and I have been together for a little over a year now. He's movie star gorgeous with his purposely messy hair and his brown-green eyes and a jawline you could cut glass with.

I'm sorry baby, I promise I'm almost there

I sigh, Jackson was perfect in the beginning. He was so sweet and attentive, but once the honeymoon phase wore off so did Jackson's goodness. His plump lips turn ugly when the words that come out of his mouth are so foul.

He apologizes. We make up. It's a cycle that's on repeat until the end of time. I'm sure if I just stop making him mad, he would go back to being the sweet guy I met last summer. If I can figure out what I'm doing to make him mad.

I pour one more shot and I feel myself getting bolder. I check his location one more time, he will be here any minute. Maybe I'll have one more.

"You're late," I say, the alcohol is about to take me down a dark road.

"I just fucking walked in Olivia, give me a fucking break," he slams the door behind him.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"I know you've been checking my location, you crazy fucking bitch, you know I've been at work," he tosses his keys on the counter with such force the keys bounce off the back wall.

"You got off work two hours ago, I can smell her perfume on you from here," I say rising to my feet.

"I'm so fucking sick of this bullshit, Olivia," his voice has gone up a few octaves, he's standing close to me, towering over me. He's trying to intimidate me. I'm not scared of him, though.

"Then why don't you just go be with her!" I yell at him, standing as tall as I can.

"Fucking who? I haven't been with anyone!" he yells back at me, his hands are stretched wide and he bends a little to shout in my face. Tears spring to my eyes, I can see he's got smudged lipstick in the bottom right corner of his lips.

His face softens a fraction before I take my hand and wipe the spot and show it to him. The rage is back full force and he looks murderous.

"You are crazy, there's nothing on your hands," he pushes passed me, hard. I frown and look at my hand, I was so sure there was something there. I can't see it now, and I'm questioning everything. "Can we just go already?"

Right, we have plans with our friends, "yeah," I whisper absently as I continue to stare at my hands.

His white t-shirt clings to the muscles under his shirt and his jeans are a second skin to his legs. He smirks at me, "better stop looking at me like that, Liv, we won't make it out of here."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I purr and push up onto my toes to give him a slow, lazy kiss. Jackson's hands slip under the shirt I'm wearing and heat shoots immediately between my legs at the contact.