A Little Something

I wasn't mad. Not really. About the police I mean. I knew he was gonna call them. It was just part of the game wasn't it? But I had to respond, didn't I? That's how you do it. You take turns.

Then he started copying me. Little things. The way I line things up in the cupboard. How I say stuff. How I tie my laces. I thought he was mocking me. Playing some head game. Then wondered if it was something else. A crush? Ugh. Bloody fags.

He stormed in just now. Greyish green looking. Nostrils flaring. He glared at me. Slammed the doors.

Ah. He’d found it, then.

I squashed my hands over my mouth. So a giggle couldn't squeak out.

He just can't seem to get ahead of me, and that is a good feeling. I was floating for the rest of the evening. I nearly offered to cook him dinner.

When I went to my bedroom, I could tell something was up. I could smell it.

And there it was. On my pillow. Coiled. Like a snake. Or a question. Like, What are you gonna do now?

Throw up. That's what I did. Into my jeans. The ones I’d left by the bed.

Not just because it was disgusting. (It really was.) But because I hadn't expected it. I didn't think he'd give it back.

The tampon sat there. Oozing. I knew I had to move it. But. Every time I thought it, I gagged again.

I'm gonna kill him.

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Thank you for reading!

This is part of a series I'm having fun with. You can see a list of all the previous segments at the end of the previous post.