Fuse

three | what if's & maybe's

S P E N C E R J A M E S O N

I curl up and squeez my eyes closed, begging for sleep to come before he came back home. Like I do most nights.

Countless nights I've spent crying myself to sleep. At first, I'd barely even close my eyes and I'd freak, opening them again in case he did something to me.

I'm surprised I even manage to get any sleep at all. Four hours is usually the most that I'll be able to have, and then my brain just seems to switch on high alert. The bags under my eyes aren't exactly an accessory that I choose to carry around with me, believe me.

I'm not sure how late it is, but I feel the bed dipping and I cringe at the thought of him laying beside me. His arm drapes over my side and he pulls me into his chest but I keep my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

"Spence, I missed you." He breathes against my face and I press my lips firmly together, almost gritting my teeth at the same time.

The smell of alcohol almost makes me want to be sick but I hold my breath and subtly cover my face with the bed sheets, trying to mask it.

If I pretend to stay asleep, the likelihood of him doing anything is slim, so I try my hardest to pretend that I'm not awake, silently praying that he does what he wants to do and then just goes to sleep.

He slurs his words barely making any sense as he runs his fingers through my hair. "My beautiful baby." He murmurs and I desperately try to control my nerves and refrain from shaking as his fingers trailing down my neck and dip to my chest.

I hold in a breath, knowing that if I release it, I'll only make a sound or whimper and he'll know that I'm awake.

Please don't touch me. Just let me sleep.

I feel tears beginning to prick in my eyes but I force myself to hold them back, hoping that any second now he'll roll over and decide to go to sleep instead.

At least that's what I'm hoping, anyway.

His hand dips further down into my pyjama shirt and I now squeeze my lips together, stopping them from trembling as I try to remain as calm as physically possible. "So delicate.. so naive.." He mumbles as his finger begin to trail along my breast line, when they suddenly stop. 

He removes his hand from inside my t-shirt and snickers to himself, the bed moving as he shifts on it. I slowly open my eyes slightly as I continue to face away from him, keeping my body still while he sits on the end of the bed and takes his shirt off.

I hear him discarding it on the floor as he kicks his slacks off and does the same with them before getting back into bed.

Squeezing the bed covers in the palm of my hand, I cling onto them as I slowly count in my head — a copying mechanism I seem to have picked up over the past few months.

After about twenty seconds pass and he still hasn't moved nearer to me, I can finally relax, knowing he is probably going to sleep.

It looks like I might get a few hours sleep tonight after all.

When my eyes eventually open again, the bed is empty which I'm extremely grateful for.

I roll over and glance at the chair where he usually puts his suit jacket and notice it's empty. He must have already left for work.

Glancing up at the ceiling, I release a deep breath and close my eyes momentarily, just taking this moment to enjoy the peace I currently have.

I slowly get out of bed and walk over to the bathroom and glance at my reflection in the full length mirror. Clasping my hands over my stomach I sigh deeply as I think about all the times he mocked me over my appearance. It was always "you look disgusting" or "what kind of man would find that attractive."