Dinner With A Freind

Dinner With A Friend

     

     Prismarine eyes gleamed through my own as the beckoning calls of survival lunged behind my throat begging for my plea. Nothing sounded aside from the breathless whimpers which left my soul aching. Aching, hungry, calling for an ounce of forgiveness to whatever it may have been to make me deserve this hell.

     "How have you been?" His voice calm and collected which accompanied the stirring of his hot chocolate that had only made me more nervous. I mustered up the courage to purse my lips however before I could even inhale to speak, he began again, "I'd like to apologize for last week." His eyes shone like emeralds battling to emerge victorious in the war of beauty. "It wasn't like me," he shook his head, "I hope you can forgive me," a dark hand was offered my direction attempting to take my own.

     I watched carefully as she pulled her hands away from mine. My jaw tightened in frustration; why must it be every time I attempt to make an effort for us to be better that she decides to be difficult. A swirl of the hot cocoa liquid slivered itself through my lips as I swallowed harder than I swallowed my own words that egged me on to take back the apology I didn't owe her.

     Dark brows lowered as I leaned in, "why are you acting like this right now?" Tanned hands gestured around the room showcasing the elegance of the evening that had been displayed for her, "I put together a beautiful dinner for us- for you," he reiterated, "to allow us to talk about what had happened and love past it for the better," he snarled irritably.

     Chocolate irises fell to the table cloth as surges of self-doubt flooded my heart reminding me of just how lucky I had been since meeting Adam. He's handsome, strong, educated, and well off in life with a great job; he had it all. I glanced back up smiling uncomfortably, "I just," I began before falling short and erasing my original words of 'don't feel like it's workin out' to a soft, "I'm sorry."

     I felt as though I was drowning in a sea of affection that only existed after daring to hurt me I'm the cruelest of ways possible. My heart beat in my chest as I could tell he wasn't happy with me by the look in his eyes. They appeared to be ravenous and evil only wishing to feast on the sounds of my cries and begging for help. My fingertips gripped my thigh tightly in hopes to relieve the tension of fear.

     My head boomed words of hatred that only was keen on destructive ways of harming another individual. "I have tried," he paused between fragments, "to please you," he growled, "to keep you happy," a scoff left his lips almost daring to laugh at his own wasted efforts. His breath hung heavy threatening my own willing the take a deep breath. "You're a bitch," he exclaimed quietly digging his eyes into my head and making a home out of it.

     Fork and knife clattered onto the porcelain plate to clench his tensed fists into the table, "you do this every time," he accused directly, "we can never have a good night out." His face seemed hot in anger as he rose from the table to slap his palm across my cheek. The calloused fingertips struck my flesh in pure fury.

-

     Adrenaline shot through my spine in a whirlwind of emotions that spiraled quickly. My eyes stared at him in fear for my own survival. Why just this happen every time; why can I never make it out of this situation. My own inability to help myself lingers and fights me more than he does. "Fuck you," I muster nervously from tender lips.

     "All I have to say is to go fuck yourself," I hissed getting up to gather my belongings and leave him to himself. However, before I could even turn away; I could hear him jumping forward gripping a chunk of my hair and yanking me backwards onto the table. Wine spilled across the wooden table staining my blue blouse. Silverware bounced down to the floorboards. His voice was loud as he spit into my face in pure hatred with the idea of murder on his mind.