Don't Make a Scene
One
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock...Ding.
I sat up at the sound of the five o'clock bell going off. I quickly got off the couch and fixed the cushions before heading up the stairs. I opened my bedroom door, which I shared with my adorable boyfriend, and headed inside. I walked into the closet before searching for something to wear.
After pulling out many drawers and hangers, I found a pair of tight skinny jeans and a shirt that was slightly low cut. After I was dressed, taken out of my comfy sweats, I walked over to my dresser and put on the necklace my boyfriend gave me when I moved in with him. I know he gets mad when I don't have it on, so I put it on every night when I start to get things ready for him to come home.
I slipped the diamond pendant around my neck before pulling my hair down and long sexy waves, just how he liked it. I know what my boyfriend likes, and if he doesn't get it there will be more problems than there already are. I know everything has to be perfect...for my benefit.
I start the stove before pulling out a pan and filling it up with water. I grab the bag of pasta shells and pour it into the pan over the stove. After the pasta is finished I cook the pasta. I grabbed a jar of my boyfriend's favorite pasta.
I have fifteen minutes and I still have to set the table, so I head over to do it. I put the fork on the right side, because he's right handed. I'm left handed, but it doesn't matter. I put the knife on the left and head over to pour something to drink.
I already know what he wants. Iced water with a squeeze of lemon. He needs it for his voice. 'Without my voice, we would have nothing' he says. So I make sure it is perfect for him. I set it by his place at the table and put his plate on the place mat.
Everything is done.
I sigh to myself and wait for the love of my life to get home. I stand, leaning on the kitchen counter, and wait. It isn't long, right at 6:00, until he's home. The garage door opens and I hear his car pulling into it. He shuts his door and puts the alarm on before shutting the garage door.
I hear the door open and I can hear him stepping on the tile before it slams shut. He turns there corner, by now I'm standing up straight and smiling, and smiles at me. "Hey, Baby. How was your day?" I asked automatically as I walk over to him. I lean up and kiss his cheek before taking his hoodie and putting it on a coat hanger.
"It was okay. What's for dinner?" He asked, making sure I did my job.
"Bowtie pasta with pesto sauce." I reply. He smiled and takes me into his arms and kisses my forehead. I wait for him to sit down at the table before I follow. He takes his first bite and smiles.
I relax.
My night won't be as bad as it is when I don't do what I'm supposed to. Brendon likes everything clean and perfect. Including me. He also has a sexual and perverted side.
That's the side I didn't find out about until I moved in.
We ate our dinner, just like we did every night. And once he was done he asked, "Do you want me to do the dishes, Baby?" But I already know what to say.
"It's not a problem, Bren. I can do them. You should relax. You've been at the studio all day." I smile, take the plates off the table, and kiss his cheek.
It's just an everyday routine.
So now the dishes are done and we're cuddling on the couch. I glance at the clock and know it's only a matter of time before he goes and does something I'm dreading, "So how was your day?" I asked. I know he's going to bitch about all the crap Pete has been giving him lately and about all of the arguments him and Ryan were in.
"Terrible. Sometimes I wonder why I still bother. But I always know why..." He trails off and turns to me, "I do it for you. Because I love you." He says. He puts his lips harshly on mine and before I know it, we're off the couch.
I'm crashed into a wall, where Brendon uses all of his force to shove me harder by my hips. He traces a hand up and down my sides before taking it back and slapping me across the face. I whimper in pain, "Shut-up! I didn't tell you to speak!" He yelled. He pulls me by my hair all the way up the stairs as I try to suppress my whimpers and cries. Without hesitation, he throws me across the room and I fall to the cold wooden floors.
"Stop." I whisper, but that only angered him more.
"Stop!? You want me to stop!? This stops when I say it does!" He yells and kicks me hard in the ribs. I can feel blood trickling down my chin from where I hit my jaw. He pulls me back up and throws me into a wall, but I slide down and he is punching me in the stomach now.
One last final blow to the stomach and he's done. He stands up and glares, "Get up." He spits. I do, with all the energy I have left, "Are you ready to go to bed, Sweetheart?" He asks. I nod and he takes me in his arms. I cry into his shoulder silently and we walk to the bed. He crawls in on his side and I'm cuddled into him, "Tomorrow we're going to the studio. What are you going to say when the guys ask you how you're doing?" He questions.
I already know the answer, "Say we are doing great and I love you more than anything. Say I love it when you come home every day and try my best to get you a day off." I whisper.
"Good. And if you even mention one little hint about what happens between me and you after dark, I will make sure you will get the beating of your life."
"Yes, Brendon."
"Goodnight, Anna. I love you."
"I love you too, Brendon."
I sat up at the sound of the five o'clock bell going off. I quickly got off the couch and fixed the cushions before heading up the stairs. I opened my bedroom door, which I shared with my adorable boyfriend, and headed inside. I walked into the closet before searching for something to wear.
After pulling out many drawers and hangers, I found a pair of tight skinny jeans and a shirt that was slightly low cut. After I was dressed, taken out of my comfy sweats, I walked over to my dresser and put on the necklace my boyfriend gave me when I moved in with him. I know he gets mad when I don't have it on, so I put it on every night when I start to get things ready for him to come home.
I slipped the diamond pendant around my neck before pulling my hair down and long sexy waves, just how he liked it. I know what my boyfriend likes, and if he doesn't get it there will be more problems than there already are. I know everything has to be perfect...for my benefit.
I start the stove before pulling out a pan and filling it up with water. I grab the bag of pasta shells and pour it into the pan over the stove. After the pasta is finished I cook the pasta. I grabbed a jar of my boyfriend's favorite pasta.
I have fifteen minutes and I still have to set the table, so I head over to do it. I put the fork on the right side, because he's right handed. I'm left handed, but it doesn't matter. I put the knife on the left and head over to pour something to drink.
I already know what he wants. Iced water with a squeeze of lemon. He needs it for his voice. 'Without my voice, we would have nothing' he says. So I make sure it is perfect for him. I set it by his place at the table and put his plate on the place mat.
Everything is done.
I sigh to myself and wait for the love of my life to get home. I stand, leaning on the kitchen counter, and wait. It isn't long, right at 6:00, until he's home. The garage door opens and I hear his car pulling into it. He shuts his door and puts the alarm on before shutting the garage door.
I hear the door open and I can hear him stepping on the tile before it slams shut. He turns there corner, by now I'm standing up straight and smiling, and smiles at me. "Hey, Baby. How was your day?" I asked automatically as I walk over to him. I lean up and kiss his cheek before taking his hoodie and putting it on a coat hanger.
"It was okay. What's for dinner?" He asked, making sure I did my job.
"Bowtie pasta with pesto sauce." I reply. He smiled and takes me into his arms and kisses my forehead. I wait for him to sit down at the table before I follow. He takes his first bite and smiles.
I relax.
My night won't be as bad as it is when I don't do what I'm supposed to. Brendon likes everything clean and perfect. Including me. He also has a sexual and perverted side.
That's the side I didn't find out about until I moved in.
We ate our dinner, just like we did every night. And once he was done he asked, "Do you want me to do the dishes, Baby?" But I already know what to say.
"It's not a problem, Bren. I can do them. You should relax. You've been at the studio all day." I smile, take the plates off the table, and kiss his cheek.
It's just an everyday routine.
So now the dishes are done and we're cuddling on the couch. I glance at the clock and know it's only a matter of time before he goes and does something I'm dreading, "So how was your day?" I asked. I know he's going to bitch about all the crap Pete has been giving him lately and about all of the arguments him and Ryan were in.
"Terrible. Sometimes I wonder why I still bother. But I always know why..." He trails off and turns to me, "I do it for you. Because I love you." He says. He puts his lips harshly on mine and before I know it, we're off the couch.
I'm crashed into a wall, where Brendon uses all of his force to shove me harder by my hips. He traces a hand up and down my sides before taking it back and slapping me across the face. I whimper in pain, "Shut-up! I didn't tell you to speak!" He yelled. He pulls me by my hair all the way up the stairs as I try to suppress my whimpers and cries. Without hesitation, he throws me across the room and I fall to the cold wooden floors.
"Stop." I whisper, but that only angered him more.
"Stop!? You want me to stop!? This stops when I say it does!" He yells and kicks me hard in the ribs. I can feel blood trickling down my chin from where I hit my jaw. He pulls me back up and throws me into a wall, but I slide down and he is punching me in the stomach now.
One last final blow to the stomach and he's done. He stands up and glares, "Get up." He spits. I do, with all the energy I have left, "Are you ready to go to bed, Sweetheart?" He asks. I nod and he takes me in his arms. I cry into his shoulder silently and we walk to the bed. He crawls in on his side and I'm cuddled into him, "Tomorrow we're going to the studio. What are you going to say when the guys ask you how you're doing?" He questions.
I already know the answer, "Say we are doing great and I love you more than anything. Say I love it when you come home every day and try my best to get you a day off." I whisper.
"Good. And if you even mention one little hint about what happens between me and you after dark, I will make sure you will get the beating of your life."
"Yes, Brendon."
"Goodnight, Anna. I love you."
"I love you too, Brendon."