“Cal, I––”
“He’s coming,” I hear Kim shout as she bursts through the door.
“Fuck,” Cal says as he stands, his hands going to his hair, his fingers tugging the strands. He looks pissed off, whereas I am just fucking panicking.
“Go,” I whisper.
“Lucy,” Cal says as he comes back to me and hugs me gently. “I don’t want to go, but I know I have to because we’re out of time. Never forget that I love you, and I’m here. Always.”
“Quick,” Kim says, her eyes wide, the tension in the room ratcheting up a few more notches.
“I love you guys,” I say as I gently push Cal away from me.
“We love you too,” Kim says. “Now come on, he’s going to be coming in here any minute now.”
“Never forget,” Cal says before he disappears, Kim following him, and me waiting to face the music once more.
Chapter Twelve
Upping his game
The rest of the week goes by without incident.
Michael doesn’t hit me again.
The pain in my body starts to subside.
I haven’t seen Cal since the other day.
Kim doesn’t try to talk to me or acknowledge me.
The hope that I felt is slowly starting to diminish.
I’m worrying about the photographs that Cal took.
What if someone else sees them?
What if he loses his phone?
What if Michael finds out about them?
What if Cal decides that this is all too much for him?
What if, what if, what if.
The questions continue, and I have no answers to any of them. I never do.
I sit on the sofa with a cup of coffee whilst Michael takes a shower and gets ready for a night out. He is meeting an old friend for a drink, but I barely showed any interest, so he didn’t give me many details.
I couldn’t give a fuck what he does, I’m just glad that he is going out and leaving me here.
It is the first time that I will have been in the apartment on my own for a long time, and with no way of contacting Cal, my only plans are to watch television and have an early night. I don’t want to be awake when Michael comes back here drunk.
Michael emerges from the bathroom and disappears into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, showing off his physique. It does absolutely nothing for me.
I busy myself by making a small salad and heating up some leftover quiche. I tidy up as I go along so as not to anger the fucking beast that I live with. I know full well that he will do a quick inspection of the kitchen area before he leaves. If I leave it messy then I’ll be in for it. I’ve made that mistake before, and it resulted in me being treated to a whole evening of mental torture about everything that was wrong with me. I don’t wish to experience that again any time soon.
I may be trying to numb myself to his scathing comments, but I’m only human and his words still have an effect on me.
