He hated her. He fucking hated her. And yet Baldassarre woke up in her bed again, groggy and sore from the usual drunk fighting. Sadie hit like a truck, and bit like a rabid dog. Marks and new bruises were hidden by the plethora of tattoos on his body, from hip to neck. He stayed silent as he got dressed, he did not want her to wake up and start yapping her mouth. His head already was pounding from lack of food and a night of too much alcohol. His forehead felt tight, and his ears throbbed with the beating of his heart. Even his mouth was dry and tasted of old cigarettes and whiskey.
Baldassarre finished dressing before going into the kitchen to raid her medicine cabinet. Summer time in Mississippi was humid and hot, his clothes immediately stuck to his entire body as he left the air conditioned room and began to sweat out the liter of whiskey he had drank the night before. His eyes hurt, he squeezed them shut to ease the pain of the hangover induced light sensitivity. He fumbled for the painkillers on the top shelf and grabbed the bottle of alcohol on the bottom to wash it down. He winced as the chaser burned a line of fire down his chest.
Her apartment was new after another eviction, she'd got it on a deal from someone she'd slept with. It was still barren despite the bags of left over alcohol bottles, empty cartons of cigarettes, one ratted couch and the shiny stripping pole. He hated her places, the kitchen was always filthy and her room trashed with dirty clothes and other things left on the floor to be stepped on. Once dosed he quickly tethered away, the sound of the bed creaking warned him of her waking up.
Baldassarre showered in his own shower, washing away the smell of sex and booze. He buried the disgust and shame beneath the anger he felt towards himself. He needed to stop. To stop seeing her, talking to her... and everything else. She never gave him anything but attitude and great sex. It was addictive in a way, Baldassarre could admit that to himself. The fighting, the blaming, the hitting and screaming. He had been young when they met, he had wanted her more than anything. And was willing to put up with everything to have her. But something was always more important than his feelings, her freedom, her choices, her wants and needs. And then their relationship fell apart, hanging by a thread.
He gave Sadie what she wanted, someone to blame. Someone to use and abuse. And she still hadn't been happy with him. After everything they had gone through together in ten years, Baldassarre wasn't her first choice. He was her backup. And she had proven it to him, to the point where he didn't expect her to want him until everyone else had used and left her too. Even after every time she'd blamed him, or fought then fucked him. Baldassarre couldn't help but come back. It was unclear whether it was truly for her... or for someone to punish him for the things he'd done and would continue to do.
Even as he thought about that his mind flashed to Maria. The guilt hit like a freight train, he tried to shove it down too but it just sat at the base of his throat, obvious and uncomfortable to think about. He immediately tried to justify it in his head. Arguing that he and Sadie weren't official anymore and it wasn't anyone's fucking business. Sadie had made it her business though. She hated that he was touching someone else, that he was sleeping in a bed with other people. That night's arguing had been focused on that subject while drunk and angry at each other. It didn't matter to either of them if anyone was truly wrong. And yet despite Sadie's ability to bring him to his knees in pleasure, Baldassarre hated to hear that bitch nag and complain.
Mimi gave him something that he hadn't felt in a long time with a sexual partner. Freedom and control. Baldassarre had barely been inside his office, freshly showered and dressed before his mind started thinking about the past half a year. He wanted Mimi. He wanted her more than he wanted another handful of pills to get rid of his headache. Baldassarre collapsed into his leather desk chair, staring off into space as he thought. Truly admitting to himself that he wanted Mimi more than he wanted Sadie's batshit crazy version of a partnership.
YOU ARE READING
The next generation (The strings of fate)
Fantasythis is a story my best friend @DanielTheIrish and I wrote together their character is Maro, and mine is Constance and Mimi, we both alternated writing places and other minor characters. it's a story about two witches. and how they undid a catastrop...
