Dressed in Bruises -H.S.

Three

"No." Grey says while putting together some sandwiches for lunch.

"Why not? I haven't even told you anything about it yet." the frown evident on my face, my excitement shattered.

"I said no Sheryl, there's no point for a career opportunity in your life. I mean come on, my family and I literally piss money. You'll carry the family name soon, don't worry." he winked and laughed.

He laughed.

Like my life and aspirations were a joke.

As if I'm not even my own person or able to make my own decisions.

He talks about me like I'm just something that follows in his shadow because he's greater than me and sadly he probably always will be.

I mean, how could I ever be better? I'm not 'allowed' to accept my possible dream job offer because according to him anything other than the diner full of "old farts" will make other men a threat to me.

Or is it a threat to him?

"No." I stood my ground and I immediately regretted it.

I watched his movements freeze as I stared at his back.

"Excuse me?" his voice was low but I was already trembling.

"I'm sorry but I really want this job, I'm really happy about this proposal and I truly see it in my future." he still didn't move a muscle.

"And Jerry isn't an old fart, he's a nice guy and he's my friend. He sees so much potential in me that you never do. You never let me do anything." I added while swallowing the fear in my throat.

I heard a quiet chuckle, but he still wouldn't face me.

"Are you fucking him?" he questioned as I watched his head fall between his prominent shoulders while his hands rested on the edge of the kitchen counter.

"What? Who? Jerry? Are you crazy, he's like 60?" I raised my arms up completely taken aback by his accusation.

"Don't you dare fucking call me crazy, bitch! You just proved my point that he's old, so why defend him? Hmm? Unless you have his dick in your mouth during all your shifts! Huh?"

Within seconds, he was across the room and had me pinned against the wall by my throat.

The knife he was using for the sandwiches was now stabbed deep into the wall beside my head as the tears spilled from my clenched eyes. My feet barely touching the ground as I gasped for air, pulling at his hands.

"Don't you ever fucking speak to me like that again." he spat in my face while releasing me. I dropped to the floor, gasping for air and struggling to get any while I was left there hysterically sobbing.

"I don't know what crawled up your ass today but if you want the stupid job so fucking bad, go ahead and take it. I couldn't give 2 fucks."

Couldn't give two fucks.

You're telling me that after all that, he didn't even care to begin with?

This was the worst, most violent incident I've endured from him so far and he just said he didn't even care to begin with?

I tried to push my thoughts to the side, I'm sick to my stomach from replaying everything that just happened.

My head continued to flood with the memory of the knife stabbing the wall, the vibration repeatedly running down my spine.

I struggled to get myself off the floor but the first thing I did when I got up was grab the business card from my coat pocket and headed to the back porch.