I had never really gotten into a fight with Jerome before.
I mean, we weren't all sunshine and rainbows, but we definitely weren't the couple from hell.
I woke up today and had a regular morning, until all of the sudden, Jerome brought up the subject.
Why I didn't drink.
"I am sorry for being so stupid last night but....why don't you drink?"
It pissed me off. It was a sensitive subject, and he just couldn't understand that...
I was only 19 when it happened. Yeah, Yeah underage drinking shut up. I was at a party and I was pretty drunk, not gonna lie.
I met a guy who was 2 years older than me, and in my drunken state, pretty damn hot.
He took advantage of my state and pretty much made out with me until I passed out.
I woke up in the morning in his arms, and I thought everything was perfect.
Until about 3 months after that.
He started getting mad at me when I didn't want to kiss him, or spend every second of every day with him.
Then, he started hitting me.
First with his hands.
Then his belt.
Then...glass. I was scarred all around my body. He was drunk all the time, and he had the potential to kill me.
I graduated college and got out of my dorm, and into an apartment.
He never found me, until about a year ago, at the party.
It had felt like an hour that I was day dreaming, but it was only a second, so I responded.
"Why can't you get over that?! I'm not comfortable sharing it! Can you not understand that?!" I hiss. I didn't want to be mad, I just was.
"Ok, god, I'm sorry! It was just a question..."
"It was not just a question." I say less mad, but still snapping. "It's a sensitive subject."
"Well how was I supposed to know that?!" he said raising his voice a bit, which wasn't often.
"Forget it." I say running my hand through my carmal colored hair. "Just...forget it."
I get up off the couch and go into the kitchen, dragging my feet as I went.
"Why can't you tell me? We tell each other everything....right?" he said. I could feel the pain and guilt in his presence.
"Yes but...I just have trouble talking about it."
"I told you about Loral...." He mumbled with grief sneaking into his voice.
I took a long pause and walked away, going up the twisting stairs to my bedroom, and fell down on the bed.
I stayed there, thinking about that night...wanting to go downstairs and apologize to Jerome, but my pride wouldn't let me. Stupid pride.
Until I heard a sniffle come from downstairs. And Jerome doesn't get allergies.
I quietly walk out of the bedroom to hear another small sniff, and start making my way downstairs, tracing the wall with my hand.
I peak around the corner to see Jerome sitting on the couch with his hands over his eyes, head hanging.
I quietly sneak over and sit down next to him, putting my arms around him.
"I'm sorry..." he quietly mumbles, looking at me.
"You don't need to apologize....I'm the one who got mad." I kiss his cheek and lay my head back down on his shoulder.
