My Toxin

Chapter 14: Tensions Unveiled

Marjorie stormed through the apartment door, her face a portrait of fury. Her eyes, usually warm and inviting, were now ablaze with anger. The air seemed to crackle with the intensity of her emotions.

"What the hell, Alex?" she shouted, her voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and rage. "You just disappeared for a week! Ignored my messages!"

The sight of her, despite her seething anger, filled me with a strange mix of relief and unease. My heart thudded in my chest as I took in her flushed cheeks and the fire in her eyes. A smile tugged at my lips, a blend of relief and a misplaced sense of amusement at the storm she was unleashing.

"Marjorie, I'm sorry," I began, hoping to bridge the chasm that had formed between us. But she didn't let me finish.

"Sorry? You think sorry is enough?" She marched up to me, her small frame quivering with indignation. "You think you can just ignore me and everything will be fine?"

I stood up, towering over her as she continued her relentless advance. I reached out, hoping for a gesture of reconciliation, but she slapped my hands away. Her blows were more passionate than painful, her frustration evident in each strike against my chest and arms. I found it hard not to smile at her attempts to push me away, her anger so palpable it was almost tangible.

"Don't you dare smile, Alex! This isn't funny!" she yelled, her eyes shooting daggers.

Despite her heated reprimand, my smile only grew. "I'm just happy you're here," I said softly, trying to convey my genuine relief.

Her hands, once pounding furiously, gradually slowed to a stop. She looked up at me, her defiance wavering. Then, with a sob, she collapsed into my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You idiot," she mumbled against my chest, her voice muffled but filled with undeniable emotion.

I held her tightly, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. In that embrace, all my worries seemed to fade away, if only for a moment.

Eventually, she pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Go take a shower. You stink."

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. I headed to the bathroom, the warm water cascading over me felt both cleansing and soothing. It washed away not just the sweat and grime, but also the tension that had built up over the past week. Marjorie's presence was a balm, and I felt a sense of peace as the water enveloped me.

Meanwhile, Marjorie busied herself with tidying up my apartment. As she moved around, I noticed her curiosity piqued. Her gaze fell upon my laptop, and a sense of dread washed over me as I realised what she might find. She opened it and was greeted with a live feed from cameras I had installed in her living room and bedroom.

Her face turned ashen as she realised the extent of my surveillance. She continued her search, her anger simmering beneath her composed exterior. Picking up my phone, she knew the passcode—her birthday—and unlocked it with a swift gesture. Her eyes scrolled through my messages, landing on the thread with Chanel. The conversations, while mostly about my journey to understand racial issues, still stung her.

When I emerged from the bathroom, clad only in a towel, I found Marjorie waiting for me, arms crossed, her stance rigid. Her expression was one of cold resolve, ready for a confrontation.

"Alex," she said, her voice as frosty as the November air. "We need to talk."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What is it?"

She held up the laptop, the live feed still playing. "Care to explain this?"

My heart plummeted. "Marjorie, I can explain—"

"You better," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Because right now, it looks like you've been spying on me."

"It was for your safety," I said quickly, desperation creeping into my voice. "After your panic attack, I was worried about you. I never intended to invade your privacy. I missed you so much this past week that I turned it on."

Her expression softened slightly, but her anger remained. "And the calls between you and this Chanel girl? You've been having hour-long conversations with her every day this week."

"Chanel's just a friend," I insisted, trying to sound reassuring. "She was helping me understand things I didn't before. I was trying to become a better person for you."

Marjorie's eyes welled up with tears. "I don't know if I can trust you, Alex. You say you missed me while having long conversations with another girl."

Frustration bubbled within me. "You know what, Marjorie? I'm not explaining myself any further because you're a hypocrite."

She stared at me, her disbelief evident. "I'm a hypocrite?" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls.

I nodded, my irritation surfacing. "Yes, a hypocrite. You're free to flirt and befriend men who are obviously your type, but I talk to one girl and you lose your shit."

Her anger flared anew, and she returned to hitting me, her small fists ineffectual against my larger frame. I stood firm, barely moving, my resolve as unshaken as my stance.

"You're the hypocrite, you fucking stalker! Who the fuck is Chanel?" she screamed, each word punctuated by another frustrated blow.

I restrained her, keeping my lower half safely out of reach, given my vulnerable state in just a towel.

Trying to defuse the situation, I lowered my tone. "She's a friend, Marjorie. Just a friend."

We stood in tense silence, the room charged with unspoken words. Our breathing steadied, but the atmosphere remained electric with unresolved tension.

"Deactivate the cameras, Alex," Marjorie said, her voice surprisingly light but firm.

I shook my head, a steely resolve in my gaze. "The cameras stay."

"I'm not your property, Alex," she replied, her tone clipped and final.

Something shifted within me. With a determined look, I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. "You are mine, Princess. Everything about you is mine. You're mine to watch, mine to love, mine to protect, and those lips"—I leaned in, my breath mingling with hers—"are mine to kiss."

Without waiting for her response, I captured her lips with mine. The kiss was both a plea and a declaration, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between us.