Strawberries
Confrontation!
I still can’t believe what you’ve done. Or rather, I can believe it, I just don’t want to admit it to myself. I figured it would happen soon. But now… it’s just sickening. And I’m not taking your shit anymore.
You walk into the kitchen, as I’m getting the carton of Orange Juice out of the fridge. I don’t even react to you entering the room. I keep my back to you. Placing the carton on the counter, I go to the cabinet to get a fridge.
“Nick?” You squeak. I get a cup out of the cabinet and slam it down on the table, facing you. You really shouldn’t even be talking to me right now, Joe.
“What?”
You bite your lip and stare at me. “N-nothing… it’s nothing.” Of course.
I sigh. “What, Joe?”
You look down at the floor. Do I see tears in your eyes? “Never mind.”
“Say it,” I growl.
“…You’re mad, right?”
“Of course I’m fucking mad!” I scream. “Why wouldn’t I be mad that you got that little whore pregnant?”
“I… I don’t know…” you stutter, looking at the floor, shrinking back. You seem to be taken aback by my outburst. Didn’t know I had it in me? That hangdog look is a nice look on you, Joe.
I growl, stepping towards you. I could swear you flinch as I advance on you, grabbing your collar. “Why did you go out and get with her?” I growl. “Is it because I won’t have sex with you?”
You close your eyes. “I don’t kn-know Nick…”
“Yes or no.”
“I… I-I d-”
“Yes. Or no, Joe.”
You close your eyes. “I geh-guess…”
“You guess?” I push you up against the wall. Suddenly, all the hurt and anger you’ve put me through in the past few months is resurfacing into just anger. “It was a fucking yes or no question.”
You whimper when your back hits the wall. “Yes!” you whine.
“Fine? You know what? You want sex? I can deal with that.” I put both of my hands on your collar and throw you onto the floor. You yelp as you hit the kitchen tile. I get down on to the ground, pinning you down with one hand and pulling the hem of your shirt up with the other.
“W-what are you doing?!” you gasp.
“I told you. I’m giving you what you want.”
“No!” you wail. “S-stop, Nick!” You try to push me off of you. I grab both of your hands, holding both of your wrists with one hand, and keep pulling your shirt up. You scream and kick your legs, so I lift my arm up and bring it down across your cheek. You’ve finally made me crack.
“Shut up, Joe. This is what you wanted, am I wrong? You went and got that little bitch pregnant for a quick fuck.”
Now you start to cry. And it just makes me even angrier. You have no idea what pain you’ve put me through with all your little girlfriends, and now that I’ve finally caught you, you’re the one crying. Disgusting.
The fridge is within my reach. And hanging on the handle is a wash cloth. I rip it off and fold it in half, twice. I wrap the thick cloth around both of your wrists and tie the best knot I can manage with the limited fabric. You’ve stopped fighting now, but you’re still crying. Feeling guilty?
I grab your collar again. “Do you know how much you’ve hurt me in the past?” I snarl. “And now is the only time you’re regretting it, isn’t it? You‘re a selfish, sick, bastard.” You whimper pitifully. I let go of your collar and unbutton your jeans.
“Stop… Nick! Puh-please!”
Pulling down the zipper… now I slowly start to slide them down your hips. You scream. I slap you again. “Shut the fuck up, Joseph. You wanted this.”
“Not like this!” you shriek.
“Then you should have treated me right.”
You’re silent now and I think you’ve realized I’m right. “Stop crying,” I growl as I start unbuttoning my own pants. Once I have the zipper and button undone, I have both of them down in a quick shove. I’m about to flip you over onto your stomach when you start begging again.
“Nick. P-p-please. D-d-don’t huh-hurt me. Please. I love you.”
For some reason, hearing you saying that, for the first time in a long time, breaks me out of the kind of weird trance I’ve been in. I hold my breath, just staring at you for what feels like a long time. I’m shocked that you can meet my gaze, and that it doesn’t waver. After almost a full minute, I grab you by your collar, lift you a few inches off the ground and then throw you back down on the floor. I stand up, just to pull my pants back up before I pin you down again.
“Next time,” I growl. “I won‘t be nice about it.”
You look, stunned and crying, up at me as I pick myself up off of you. “Get off the floor,” I snarl, kicking your thigh lightly. You whimper as you drag yourself up, slowly. I grab your arm and force you to your feet.
“I don’t want to fucking see you. Get out of this house or get out of my sight.”
I let your arm go and you almost fall to the floor again. I watch you speed out of the kitchen in a panic, and then I think over what just happened.
You walk into the kitchen, as I’m getting the carton of Orange Juice out of the fridge. I don’t even react to you entering the room. I keep my back to you. Placing the carton on the counter, I go to the cabinet to get a fridge.
“Nick?” You squeak. I get a cup out of the cabinet and slam it down on the table, facing you. You really shouldn’t even be talking to me right now, Joe.
“What?”
You bite your lip and stare at me. “N-nothing… it’s nothing.” Of course.
I sigh. “What, Joe?”
You look down at the floor. Do I see tears in your eyes? “Never mind.”
“Say it,” I growl.
“…You’re mad, right?”
“Of course I’m fucking mad!” I scream. “Why wouldn’t I be mad that you got that little whore pregnant?”
“I… I don’t know…” you stutter, looking at the floor, shrinking back. You seem to be taken aback by my outburst. Didn’t know I had it in me? That hangdog look is a nice look on you, Joe.
I growl, stepping towards you. I could swear you flinch as I advance on you, grabbing your collar. “Why did you go out and get with her?” I growl. “Is it because I won’t have sex with you?”
You close your eyes. “I don’t kn-know Nick…”
“Yes or no.”
“I… I-I d-”
“Yes. Or no, Joe.”
You close your eyes. “I geh-guess…”
“You guess?” I push you up against the wall. Suddenly, all the hurt and anger you’ve put me through in the past few months is resurfacing into just anger. “It was a fucking yes or no question.”
You whimper when your back hits the wall. “Yes!” you whine.
“Fine? You know what? You want sex? I can deal with that.” I put both of my hands on your collar and throw you onto the floor. You yelp as you hit the kitchen tile. I get down on to the ground, pinning you down with one hand and pulling the hem of your shirt up with the other.
“W-what are you doing?!” you gasp.
“I told you. I’m giving you what you want.”
“No!” you wail. “S-stop, Nick!” You try to push me off of you. I grab both of your hands, holding both of your wrists with one hand, and keep pulling your shirt up. You scream and kick your legs, so I lift my arm up and bring it down across your cheek. You’ve finally made me crack.
“Shut up, Joe. This is what you wanted, am I wrong? You went and got that little bitch pregnant for a quick fuck.”
Now you start to cry. And it just makes me even angrier. You have no idea what pain you’ve put me through with all your little girlfriends, and now that I’ve finally caught you, you’re the one crying. Disgusting.
The fridge is within my reach. And hanging on the handle is a wash cloth. I rip it off and fold it in half, twice. I wrap the thick cloth around both of your wrists and tie the best knot I can manage with the limited fabric. You’ve stopped fighting now, but you’re still crying. Feeling guilty?
I grab your collar again. “Do you know how much you’ve hurt me in the past?” I snarl. “And now is the only time you’re regretting it, isn’t it? You‘re a selfish, sick, bastard.” You whimper pitifully. I let go of your collar and unbutton your jeans.
“Stop… Nick! Puh-please!”
Pulling down the zipper… now I slowly start to slide them down your hips. You scream. I slap you again. “Shut the fuck up, Joseph. You wanted this.”
“Not like this!” you shriek.
“Then you should have treated me right.”
You’re silent now and I think you’ve realized I’m right. “Stop crying,” I growl as I start unbuttoning my own pants. Once I have the zipper and button undone, I have both of them down in a quick shove. I’m about to flip you over onto your stomach when you start begging again.
“Nick. P-p-please. D-d-don’t huh-hurt me. Please. I love you.”
For some reason, hearing you saying that, for the first time in a long time, breaks me out of the kind of weird trance I’ve been in. I hold my breath, just staring at you for what feels like a long time. I’m shocked that you can meet my gaze, and that it doesn’t waver. After almost a full minute, I grab you by your collar, lift you a few inches off the ground and then throw you back down on the floor. I stand up, just to pull my pants back up before I pin you down again.
“Next time,” I growl. “I won‘t be nice about it.”
You look, stunned and crying, up at me as I pick myself up off of you. “Get off the floor,” I snarl, kicking your thigh lightly. You whimper as you drag yourself up, slowly. I grab your arm and force you to your feet.
“I don’t want to fucking see you. Get out of this house or get out of my sight.”
I let your arm go and you almost fall to the floor again. I watch you speed out of the kitchen in a panic, and then I think over what just happened.