Bad Things

|Chapter Nine|

"I've got some things to say, and you are going to listen," I nod at him frantically, tears are streaming down my face and running over the hand that is still clamped down on my mouth.

My heart was about to beat out of my chest, I hoped beyond hope that if I just complied with him, he would eventually leave. Jackson moved from behind me to look me in the eyes. He was blurry with the tears I couldn't stop shedding, but he never moved his hand from my mouth. The force of his aggression pinning me to the door.

"I gave you everything, Olivia!" he screams, dangerously close to my face. "Do you think a guy like me would be with a girl like you? You don't even have a real job, and you can't ever be bothered to fix yourself up. Your hair is always a mess, look at me OLIVIA," he puts the emphasis on my name, louder than the others. "Do you think you deserved me?" I don't answer, I can't with his hand over my mouth. I don't even know if he even wants an answer or if its rhetorical.

I feel the sting in my cheek from the open handed slap he lands on me before I register what has happened. I squeeze my eyes shut as I shake my head no, frantically. He had to remove his hand from my mouth to slap me, but I'm too scared to scream. The fucking deadbolt is locked anyway, there won't be enough time.

I don't think it's the right answer when he slaps me again, I don't know what to do as I continue to sob. The lack of empathy in his eyes is terrifying, but if I'm being honest I've never seen any empathy there.

"How dare you bring another man into this apartment? How dare you cheat on me! Who do you think you are, Olivia?" I open my mouth to speak and before anything comes out, he slaps me again. I know now complying isn't going to help. I have to fight back, but he has 75 pounds on me, easily.

It doesn't matter that I didn't cheat on him, there's nothing I can say to change his mind. I have to do something or I will die here in this apartment. I clock the vase on my coffee table, if I can make it there maybe I can knock him out.

"I can't believe you would disrespect me like this, over a simple accident. I gave you your space, you fucking whore, and you start fucking someone else," he's mumbling his manifesto like a psychopath.

I throw my shoulder into his gut, catching him off guard. I don't trust my vase plan and head straight for my bedroom, I can lock the door and regroup.

"You are going to pay for that!" he seethes, I'm almost to the door before his arms grip my waist. He uses the momentum to throw me into my kitchen table. I crumble to the ground, it's hard to breathe, a sharp pain hits my lungs every time I try to inhale.

Jackson grips my hair to pull me back to my feet, his hand grabs my neck and he pins me to the table. I cry out, I know my ribs are broken and the pain is white hot.

"We could have done this the easy way," he says absently, what are we even doing here. Did he come here specifically to kill me? I can't breathe in a dangerous way now, I don't know if it's my ribs or that he's cutting off my air way.

The tears have dried, I don't have emotions in me now.

"Jackson-" I struggle, "I can't breathe," I rasp out, I don't recognize the sound in my ears. Maybe if I reason with him, he will remember I am a person. That he's going to murder me.

"Good, you fucking bitch, I can't wait to watch the light burn out in your eyes," he seethes, the spray from his words hitting my face as he speaks through clinched teeth. "You deserve this."

Maybe I do, for not recognizing this in him earlier. Why do we glaze over all the red flags we see in people? Why do we hope they are better than they are?

I reach my hands around me, not ready to give up yet. My hands feel around, grasping for anything. There's nothing there, I can't feel anything. My vision dances, I'm too close to losing consciousness.