Look at Me - H.S.

~ Chapter 10 ~

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~

It didn't work.

He knew I was still awake the moment he stepped in the room, a menacing chuckle leaving his lips as he muttered something to himself that I couldn't quite hear. I laid there, frozen, trying so hard to deter any thought he might've had about touching me.

It didn't work.

He stood in front of me on my side of the bed, my eyes still closed, willing myself not to give in. He didn't move an inch but I could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. With a huff he moved away to the other side of the room and I let myself relax slightly, thinking, no, hoping it had worked.

It didn't work.

He removed his clothes, almost falling arse over tit in the process while his jeans got caught round his ankles - smooth, Mark. Real smooth.
Muttering various Fucks and Shits under his breath before he eventually pulled back the duvet and not so gracefully, fell into bed. I thought at that point he was done. I was waiting patiently for the incessant drunken snores to start reverberating around the walls.
They didn't come. Not then, at least.

He turned towards me, my back to his chest as I felt him slink an arm around my waist, his hand sneaking up the hem of my top and laying his palm flat against my stomach, his cold hands on my warm skin made me jolt slightly as he pulled me further into him. His hot breath in the crook of my neck, reeking of the copious amounts of alcohol he'd quite obviously consumed throughout the day. "I know you're awake, Cassandra" he whispered directly into my ear. I've never hated my name as much as I do in those moments. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. Do I stay still or do I acknowledge him? I really wasn't sure what the best option was.

I didn't have to make the decision.

He made it for me.

I let him do what he needed to do. He reminded me that I had to stop being selfish. He has needs and I'm his wife. It's part of the job to make him feel good, make him feel loved, right? It's not like it lasted very long, it never does when he's that drunk, it's what comes after, the fuel he adds to the fire in my brain.

"Have you given up on that diet already?"
"Maybe you should try something new, it's obviously not working"
"Did you get some of that stuff for your scars?"
"Maybe you need to use more."

Even when the words are slurred, they cut just as deep and as I lay there feeling thoroughly used and discarded, I wondered. I wondered why he's still here. I wondered why he hasn't found someone better. I wondered what else I can do to make him love me again. I wondered what it would actually feel like to be loved.

That was four weeks ago and it's still playing on my mind. We haven't spoken much since. Maybe I did something else wrong. Maybe I didn't make him feel as good as I could have. Maybe he's just repulsed by me completely now. Maybe I'm too sensitive. Maybe I need to try harder.

My phone buzzing interrupts my thoughts.

1 New Message

Barry

Harry has been in contact constantly, which is strange for me, I've not had someone in my life before who wants to speak to me as much as he does. The day after he called, I made sure to text and wish him good luck for the show and have continued to do so every show since. He told me that I'm not allowed to stop now, I'm his good luck charm apparently. Pretty absurd if you ask me. The guy has been doing this for years, quite successfully I might add, without me. He doesn't need me.