The Etiquette of Smoking

Disassociation

A/N: Domestic and verbal abuse trigger warning for this chapter

"-And the little one from yesterday? Never again. I don't want that bitch in my house ever again!" He'd been yelling for the past 2 hours. We were in the living room in our apartment and I was sitting topless on the couch while he sat in the armchair across from me. He'd forced Joji's hoodie off of me and when he saw what I was wearing underneath... well, it's in the trash now.

"If you let any one of those fuckholes you call friends in here ever again, so help me, Olivia, you will fucking regret it." He continued menacingly. Though, maybe not as scary as he thought since for the last 45 minutes, I'd been trying to keep my eyes open and not piss him off further by falling asleep. Several times so far, he'd slammed his fist down on the coffee table in front of me when I even looked like I was drifting off and not listening to him.

I'd tried telling him about last night as soon as we got in the car. I explained what happened with the old man and the police but he wouldn't hear my apologies or explanation. I had told myself on the roof that I wouldn't allow it, but there was no stopping the tears once the floodgate opened. He berated me the rest of the way home and continued to do so now after I received my physical punishment. My head hung, watching his feet while he continued yelling. I liked to go into my head when stuff like this happened. The thoughts used to consist of the beautiful beaches from back home, Disneyland churros, and my grandma's chocolate chip cookies. Now all I could grasp for was warmth. The memory of warmth, of comfort, of peace.

"Are you fucking listening?" He snapped. I looked up and apologized to him. "My dad told me not to get with you, and I should've listened. All you ever do is want from me. I bust my ass everyday so you can fuck around!" He stood, pacing the room and coming around the couch to stand behind me.

"You're selfish." He hissed in my ear but I didn't even flinch. Mistake. "Oh, you think you're tough?" He came back around the front of the couch to bend over and shove his face right in mine. His breath reeked of cheap beer and the scent made my stomach curl. I averted my gaze and forced with all my might not to let any more tears fall.

"You think you are hot shit now that you have those dumb fuck friends and you get to shake your tits all night in some club?" We hadn't had one of these in a few months. I had gotten too comfortable and allowed myself to talk back. That was my mistake. I shook my head 'no' at his question.

"Liv," Gavin shifted gears, speaking softly and bending down in front of me. I still wasn't looking at him so he took my cheek in his hand and forced my attention. "Are you fucking him? The squinty eyed one? Or maybe the fat fuck too?" His voice mocked with a sweet undertone. I felt sick. He let go of me, standing up and grabbing his beer from the coffee table. He'd drank half of the case since we got home.

I was so tired in every way imaginable. My eyes closed to savor the lull in between his revile while he was distracted. I likely wouldn't be going to work tonight, I knew. I would need to let Ethan know.

"If you think anyone wants you, you're delusional," He hiccupped, dropping the bottle to the floor and shattering it. "You're a fat fucking slut who only cares about herself. You only took that job for the attention, didn't you?" He sneered, coming to sit in his armchair again. I covered my naked breasts and stomach, wanting to curl in on myself and disappear. Sometimes I wished I was a bird. Any kind, it doesn't matter, just so that I could up and fly away anywhere without fear. Or maybe an ant so I could shrink down and hide where he couldn't find me.

"Walking around in that lingerie," he laughed, reaching for another bottle. "No wonder someone tried touching you. You walk into a fucking sex store and act surprised you got touched when you're dressed like a whore."