I woke up, feeling a dull pain in my skull. I lay in my own bed, but there was no one next to me. I was only tightly covered with a blanket, the rest of the bedding lay intact as I left it.
I rose up to sit, noticing Clinton's bag laying in the corner. Was he here too?
I turned, hanging my legs on the side of the bed above the floor. I sighed heavily, noticing that I'm dressed only in the night undershirt and underwear. Yesterday I went to the police station in pajamas, finding Clinton and Pat in a terrible condition. I was still terribly pissed off, but I was very happy that they were safe.
I did not intend to forgive him so soon. I wanted him to see how much he hurt me with his reckless behavior.
I heard his voice in the kitchen, he was probably talking on the phone. It sounded like a takeover and every few words stuttered. I wondered what could go on about. But I had to go cold on him and not let him know that I care about him this much.
I went into the kitchen, looking at him with pissed look, then opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of milk, putting a glass bottle with a clatter on the granite counter.
Clinton hung up, hiding the phone in his pants pocket. I felt his eyes burn out a hole in me. I reached towards the box of cereal, but it was too high for me. I tried to pull myself up and lean up on the counter, but I saw how male hands reach easily, taking them off and putting them in front of me.
"Not drunk anymore, huh?" I snorted with a sneer in my voice.
It was unimaginably close, so that I could feel his breath on my neck. I felt his hands ghosting over my hips, brushing only with his fingertips, while he moved away before I could open my mouth.
But I had to say it anyway.
"Don't touch me," I said dryly.
"I took Beau to my parents'," the boy said, leaning against the counter, looking everywhere, not at me. I saw in him shame and confusion, apparently related to my reaction.
"You could've stayed and theirs too" I snarled, pouring milk into the glass. However, I did not feel like eating anything. My stomach was tied in knots, all because of him.
"You're not eating anything?" he asked with concern laced in his voice.
"I've lost apetite" I said without emotion in my voice, walking with a glass to the living room.
"You fainted yesterday, you should eat something," he said, following me.
"Leave me alone, Clinton!" I shouted, waving a glass, making its contents spill over on me and on the panels, and the glass slipped out of my hand, smashing on the floor.
"Don't move," he said, looking at the glass.
"Do not tell me what to do," I replied, trying to take a step, but I stepped on the small glass piece that dug into my foot. "Fuck!" I sobbed, biting my lip, closing my eyes, standing with my bleeding foot up.
I felt his arms wrapping around me, taking me in his arms, holding me bridal style. All emotions escaped me, and I cried, I did not know whether more from what happened yesterday or from what happened now.
"Relax, it's gonna be okay, baby" I felt him soot me on the counter in the bathroom, taking out the first aid kit from the cabinet.
"It hurts," I moaned, shivering in the spasm of crying.
"I'm tryna get it out" I felt it touching my skin with tweezers, throwing the glass into the trash can. When he took out all the pieces, he covered everything with hydrogen peroxide.
I moaned in pain, feeling his arms around me. I clenched my hands around his back.
"Remember that I would do anything for you," he whispered, kissing my hair.
"You hurt me," I sniffed, clutching onto him harder.
"I was scared, I'm sorry. I wish I was more of a man. I feel like a lost boy. I don't feel ready for this big of a commitment, but one thing I know... I love you, Angeline."
"I love you too," I replied, feeling myself cry harder, losing my ability to speak.
////
And they made up ☺️ who's happy?
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