Can't Find My Way Home
Chapitre un
"Get out!!" I screamed, my throat was burning like I had drank acid, and my face was red and puffy, and black and wet from tears. I had never felt so enraged and upset in my life, how could he do this to me? Was I really that terrible to be with? To live with?
"You're fucking insane!!" he yelled back trying to pick up some of the clothes I had thrown at him. "You wanna know why I did it? Huh? You want to know what spurred me to go fuck those chicks?" I grabbed my hair and pressed my palms into my eyes, if only to stop the amount of tears I knew would be coming. "You and you're fucking obsession, you hear me?! It's your fault I don't love you!"
"Fuck you!" I shrieked, how could he say such a thing. "All I've ever done is love you!"
"That maybe so, but I always came fucking second to everything in your fucking life!"
"Asides from you my career is all I have Tom and you know that!" he gritted his teeth, I knew exactly what was coming.
"No Dill, you have your past which you never fucking talk about, that I have to hear you fucking crying about in your sleep, or when you're in the bath. You have that stupid fucking box with the lock on it under our bed that you've never let me know what's in! We're married we're not supposed to keep any secrets from one another!" and that, was his final nail in the coffin.
"We're not supposed to keep secrets from one another? Not supposed to keep secrets?! Get out! Get out of my house and get out of my life and never ever fucking come back!!"
"What? You just expect me to leave? This is my house too you know."
"No! I pay for it, you do as little as fucking possible. JUST GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" he went from looking like he was going to explode, to having a smirk spread accross his face.
"You want to know something about your house then?" he pointed his finger into the kitchen, "I've done a chick in there, two in fact.. And in there," he said pointing into the living room, "and in your precious study, and in the bathroom, and.. in our bed." I snapped for the last time, my hand wrapped around the thing closest to me, and I launched it at him. A heavy, ceramic vase, he dodged just in time for it to miss him by millimetres and hit the door, shattering into tiny fragments.
"Fuck you, fuck your house, and fuck all your secrets! Don't think this is over," he said picking up his bag angrily, "I want a divorse." he slammed the door shut so hard, a picture frame of our wedding day fell off the wall and shattered next to the broken vase. The feeling of emptyness, of worthlessness ran through my heart like a steak. I was alone, for the first time in six years, I was all I had in the world.
"You're fucking insane!!" he yelled back trying to pick up some of the clothes I had thrown at him. "You wanna know why I did it? Huh? You want to know what spurred me to go fuck those chicks?" I grabbed my hair and pressed my palms into my eyes, if only to stop the amount of tears I knew would be coming. "You and you're fucking obsession, you hear me?! It's your fault I don't love you!"
"Fuck you!" I shrieked, how could he say such a thing. "All I've ever done is love you!"
"That maybe so, but I always came fucking second to everything in your fucking life!"
"Asides from you my career is all I have Tom and you know that!" he gritted his teeth, I knew exactly what was coming.
"No Dill, you have your past which you never fucking talk about, that I have to hear you fucking crying about in your sleep, or when you're in the bath. You have that stupid fucking box with the lock on it under our bed that you've never let me know what's in! We're married we're not supposed to keep any secrets from one another!" and that, was his final nail in the coffin.
"We're not supposed to keep secrets from one another? Not supposed to keep secrets?! Get out! Get out of my house and get out of my life and never ever fucking come back!!"
"What? You just expect me to leave? This is my house too you know."
"No! I pay for it, you do as little as fucking possible. JUST GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" he went from looking like he was going to explode, to having a smirk spread accross his face.
"You want to know something about your house then?" he pointed his finger into the kitchen, "I've done a chick in there, two in fact.. And in there," he said pointing into the living room, "and in your precious study, and in the bathroom, and.. in our bed." I snapped for the last time, my hand wrapped around the thing closest to me, and I launched it at him. A heavy, ceramic vase, he dodged just in time for it to miss him by millimetres and hit the door, shattering into tiny fragments.
"Fuck you, fuck your house, and fuck all your secrets! Don't think this is over," he said picking up his bag angrily, "I want a divorse." he slammed the door shut so hard, a picture frame of our wedding day fell off the wall and shattered next to the broken vase. The feeling of emptyness, of worthlessness ran through my heart like a steak. I was alone, for the first time in six years, I was all I had in the world.