The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Twenty nine

Her dark eyes flashed but with Aaron at my back I wasn't afraid. He pressed against me and held my arm, reassuring me of his presence.
"Why do you care so much? Why is it any of your business? We're married now that's what you wanted why can't you just leave us alone?!" I said it all in one breath, and my voice caught painfully at the end.
"If you have a baby we can come here to be with you. It'll make it easier for us to get our visa. The more family we have here the better."
I didn't know if it was true, I didn't know anything about that sort of thing. But it didn't matter, because I didn't want them here and I didn't want her to keep having all this control over my life.
"Will you just leave?!"
His grip tightened, he wanted me to be careful. But my tongue was loose and my hair wild. I'd thrown all caution to the wind. Because I knew she couldn't touch me with my guardian angel by my side.
She stepped towards me, her fingers twitching, then bunching into fists.
"How dare you speak to your mother like that?"
I stared at her, unabashed, defiant.
"You haven't been my mother for a very long time."
Dad gasped, as if wounded.
He saw how her body stiffened, and her eyes widened. She wasn't hurt, just angry. He came between us, shielding me from her sight.
"Let's just go and calm down," he said, and shot a guilty glance over his shoulder.
He took her hand and lead her away, she slammed open the front door and stalked out onto the street.
"We won't be back for dinner," he called to us, and I slumped into Aaron's arms and began to sob.
He shushed me, rocking side to side, lifting me slightly off the floor.
"Do you not want a baby with me?" He asked, and laughed a little, but I heard the little break in his voice. I looked up at him through my tears and saw how his eyes seemed less bright.
It took a lot for me not to sigh. I didn't exactly need this turning into a fight between us.
"I want it to be our decision," I answeres.
"It could be."
"Not now. We aren't ready. We've got too many issues," I tried to laugh at that but it ended in another sob.
He didn't answer me, and wouldn't look at me. My shoulders sagged as if I could no longer hold the weight of a failed life upon them.
"We've barely been married 6 months!"
It came out louder than I expected it to.
"I don't even know you!"
I didn't know where that came from. It wasn't even true. It was like her sickness was poisoning me, turning me cruel.
His head snapped up and he glared at me, this time making no attempt to conceal it. There was anger and fear and disgust even all over his face.
"Don't shout at me," he said flatly, the lack of emotion in his voice conflicting with the vehemence in his eyes.
"This is her doing," he said, and I winced from the sting of the venom in his tone. "And if you don't make her leave soon, I will."
He walked away from me, out of the house, and I was left in the emptiness to cry and blame everything wrong in my life on myself.