the assistant | damon ✓

13. Personal Morphine

Walliams

We were both pissed off at each other, and not much was going to change that. I was pissed off because he promised something he couldn't control, and he was pissed off because I felt like that. I knew that, in some ways, it wasn't Simon's fault. He couldn't choose what the media published. But he knew that, and he shouldn't of promised me if he knew. He promised on a whim, hoping that the small chance of them not saying anything harsh would be displayed and that I would fall for him even further, because he's reliable. Except he's not, because his promise was broken.

I've never been able to stand liars. It's been a problem since I was little. I remember when I was younger, I was with my father (my mother and sister were out on a spa day) and the rain was pouring heavily outside, and he'd told me to go do some gardening. Apart from being slightly discombobulated at the fact that it wasn't ideal weather for to be digging holes and planting flowers, I'd agreed. Because that's what I'd always done with him. Agreed, and made sure to make him proud. Except I never, ever did.

I asked my dad why I had to go out in such extreme weather, to which he replied,
'Strong boys like you David will work out in the rain for hours and not feel a thing.' So, eager to impress him, I was down in the dirt, digging and planting until my back ached and my wrists seared pain, my shoes drenched in the murky puddle water, a mixture of rain fall and the dirt I scattered everywhere.

I walked back, an hour earlier than I was supposed to, planning to ask for some hot chocolate. But no. My father had a group of friends around our dining room table.
"Who is this?" I remember one of them asking.
"Yes, who is this?" The second one piped up, "I thought you only had the one daughter, and your wife?"

He had hidden me from his friends because he was ashamed. That's when my hate for lying, and liars, sparked.

I was dreading today with a passion. I had to sit in an office with him for, what, eight hours? That's the thing about our relationship. We are together so often, and in the day there's rarely an escape from each other if we're angry. But we'd never been like this before. It didn't change one thing though.

I was still in love with him, and I'd fallen so deep it was starting to become frightening.

After showering, the clock read 8:25am, so I quickly chose some navy jeans and a long sleeved, scoop-necked black top, and my black vans. I tugged a black beanie over my hair - it needed washing, but I didn't have time for that. Grabbing a grey body gilet and my phone, I sighed and walked of the door, petting Bert on my way.

He wasn't there when I arrived. This had never happened before. I had to rummage deep into my bag for the key he'd given me on the first day of work, just in case he lost his, to let myself in. The building was cold, and as I stepped foot in the door all of Simon's workers immediately rushed up to me, asking for his whereabouts. I quietly told them I don't know, before shyly dipping my head down and walking towards the misted glass doors. When I opened the office up, a rush of cool air hit my face and I shuddered. The office was tidier than usual, making me assume that Simon had had nothing to do but clean the office up. Either that or for once the cleaner had ventured into his office.

By 9:30am I assumed he just wasn't coming, and due to the fact that I didn't know his computer password, or possess the keys to any of the filing cabinets, I really had nothing to do but play flappy bird on my laptop, the space bar being repetitively hit and causing a clicking sound, being accentuated as loud due to the eerily silence around me.

He strolled in around 10am, casually, as if being late and keeping me bored for an hour wasn't an issue.

"David, can we talk?" Was the first thing he said as he set foot inside.