The Blonde Butcher

Chapter Three

I spend my days sketching, not anything specific, just whatever catches my eye. He caught my eye too. I've sketched him about a hundred times in the past three years. I was on my way to becoming a certified psychologist, but that was before he made me give up to move in with him. I don't mind, because it means I get to be with the man I love. When I'm not sketching I spend time reading. I've read many books and I'll continue to do so until I can't read anymore. My favourite books are thrillers because I love a good mystery. It's always fun to try and figure out who did it. We're constantly looking for clues that, sometimes, aren't even there. It's human nature to question everything. What's my biggest question? Did I choose the wrong man? I didn't spend the last four years of my life working on becoming a degreed psychologist for nothing, or maybe I did. I worked hard for my degree, even harder for my master's, but now it's all gone to waste. All those years studying for what? To sit at home all day. At first, I didn't know which master's degree I wanted, I had three choices; clinical, social and forensic. In the end, I chose forensic psychology, because I wanted to help people, solve the mystery and find out who did it, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen.

Sometimes I feel like I should have pursued art, considering the fact that I'm quite the artist, but I didn't. My foster family told me that art wasn't a real career. "You need a real job. You can't just sit around painting, or whatever it is you do and expect to survive. Be sensible, Moira." My father would say. My mother was a clinical psychologist, which is probably the reason I chose the path I did, to please her. They were so happy when I finished my master's. They were even happier when I met a respectable, young man, but alas, disappointment was patiently waiting for its moment to pounce. When my parents found out that I was moving in with Tom they were not impressed and what made everything worse is the fact that they found out that Tom wasn't letting me work. He wants me to be at home because he believes a woman shouldn't have to work when her 'husband' is able and working. A little archaic if you ask me, but I would do anything for him.

"You know I only want what's best for you, don't you, Mo?" he said with that dashing smile.

"Of course," I said sheepishly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

He makes me feel safe like I have nothing to worry about, but no relationship is perfect. I'm a very honest person and I never hide anything from my fiancé, but I cannot say the same for Tom. He seems distant like he's hiding something from me.