His hands on my neck - Joel Miller.

19.

Spring was just around the corner, but the weather was still colder than anyone expected. During the day the sun was kissing the ground around, and melting the snow, but the night was harsher and colder. Hope decided to clean up the house after a long time. It was the first time she entered Ellie's bedroom since she moved out. For both of them, Joel and Hope the house was feeling emptier without the girl. However, just in case, a brunette didn't want to remove anything from the room, and after cleaning just left everything as it was. The last thing she wanted was to sort Joel's stuff. They were respecting each other's privacy, so she didn't even touch his closet, but decided to clean his bedroom just a little.

However, her cleaning was disturbed by the discovery under the man's bed. She moved one of the boxes under the bed to mop the floor in there, but her hands found something that was never supposed to be there. Hope pulled the fabric closer, and after her eyes saw it, a realization appeared in the girl's head. Brunette was sitting on the wet floor, holding a woman's shirt in her hands. It wasn't her size, nor it was Ellie's. The bitter taste of understanding appeared in her mind, as she stormed out of the man's bedroom and slammed the door shot.

Hope was sitting in the living room on the couch. The cup of coffee was cold for a couple of hours. She was focusing at one point on the wall, while the shirt she found was lying on the other side of the couch. Only the sound of the open door put her back to reality.

- What the actual fuck Joel? – Hope saw the man in the doorframe, and without even thinking once, she threw the shirt at the man, waiting for him to speak, to tell something even though she didn't need his reasons to understand what was going on.

- It's nice to see you too, Hope, - Joel saw something being thrown at him, but bend down at the right time, so the fabric got into the wall instead of him.

- Tell me please, who the hell you think you're, - A girl got up from the couch, crossing her hands on her chest, trying to understand how long this conversation might take before the anger finally takes her whole mind.

- Easy girl, easy. At least explain, - He got closer to her, placing his hand on the doorframe, as he was looking down into her eyes not even understanding what was going on.

- Do you think I am the one who has to explain myself? – She felt how anger slowly was turning into disappointment. There were other men in her life before him, but this time there was hope in her head that he won't be the one telling her bullshit at least.

- Well, I come back and all you do is scream and shout out of nothing. At least explain yourself, - A man felt like this conversation wasn't going anywhere. It felt as if the Hope he knew just disappeared and something unknown happened to her. Was he in the mood to deal with this shit after a long day? Of course not.

- Listen up, you're either fucking around with everyone else, and I am out, or you're with me, - Hope's voice was raising and at this point, if anyone was passing by the house, they would be a part of the conversation.

- You're just being delusional, - Joel sigh, and sat down on the couch, watching Hope's tantrum as if he was waiting for her to calm down just like a toddler.

- Of course, well, if you do something at least admit, - She pointed with her finger toward the living room door and the piece of the other female cloth on the floor. The most hurtful thing she was ever going through was a betrayal, and now it seemed like she was at the very same point back again. The man she trusted fucking another woman in her own house.

- I am not fucking 14 Hope, I am not going to continue this pointless conversation, - He looked up at her, trying to understand the whole situation, or what was on her mind. But in the end, it was just a dramatic tantrum of hers.

- Well, enjoy your own company then, - A girl could feel how her anger was turning into weakness as she was ready to cry her eyes out in the living room. However, the last thing she wanted to be in his eyes now was weak. She ran upstairs and the last noise the house could hear before the night fell on the city was the loud slam of the bedroom door.