The first thing I noticed was the weight on my chest.
Not heavy enough to crush me, but enough to remind me I wasn't alone. Anita's arm was slung across me like a chain, her fingers loosely curled into my sides. Her breath was warm against my neck, steady and peaceful, as if last night had been nothing more than a normal day for her. It might as well have been. As if she hadn't come home smelling like roses and metallic, smiling that sweet, terrifying smile while telling me Jessica "loved the flowers."
I stared at the ceiling, the same beautiful piece I'd woken up to for over a year now. It was starting to truly feel like a pet caged in with fancy lighting.
My phone was on the nightstand. I could reach it if I stretched, but I couldn't dare. Not while she was still next to me. The last message from her still burned into my memory.
Good boy.
Anita stirred, nuzzling closer. Her lips brushed my collarbone, and she made a small, contented sound.
"Morning, honeybee…", she murmured, voice thick and hoarse. Her hand slid under my shirt, her thumb tracing lazy circles over my stomach. The touch was gentle. Almost loving. But I knew better. Every simple caring gesture carried the memory of how easily those same fingers could turn cruel.
I forced my voice to sound normal.
"Morning, honeybug."
She lifted her head, brown hair messy and falling over one eye. When she smiled, it was the same radiant expression that used to make my heart skip. Now it just made my heart race with fear.
"You slept like a baby.", she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes scanned my face, searching.
"No more nightmares?"
I shook my head. The lie came easily now.
"No. You were here."
That pleased her. She leaned down and kissed me, slow and deep, like she was claiming victory over the fact that she occupied far more space in my head than I could ever hold in hers. I kissed her back because not kissing her back was never an option. Her tongue traced my lower lip, and for a moment I tried to convince myself that this was normal. I remembered all the good things she'd done for me, closing my eyes tight shut to make me like her just a little bit more, that we were just a married couple waking up together.
But that's when I realized, I'd run out of those things to fall back on. I'd started to hate her.
When she pulled away, her eyes were sparkling.
"I'm in such a good mood today," she announced, rolling out of bed in nothing but one of my old t-shirts. It barely reached her thighs.
"Come on. I'll make you breakfast for once."
I watched her skip towards the kitchen, humming the same tune she always did when she felt like she won the war. My body moved on autopilot. Shower, brush teeth, put on clothes. Every motion felt mechanical.
By the time I reached the kitchen, the smell of eggs and coffee filled the air. Anita stood at the stove, cracking a fresh egg into the pan like she was a pro at it. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned.
"Runny, right? Just how you like them."
No. Over-easy. As if you'd ever know.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Love you."
She plated the food and set it in front of me, then sat across the table, chin resting in her hands. She wasn't eating, though. She was just… watching. The way she used to watch me when we first started dating. Only now I truly understood what it meant.
I picked up my fork. My hand trembled slightly. I hoped she didn't notice.
"So," she said casually, "how did you sleep after I told you about Jessica?"
The fork froze halfway to my mouth. I forced myself to take the bite anyway. The eggs tasted like nothing. I'm sure she isn't such an idiot to forget adding salt to it, but the overwhelming idea of eating anything she created was just disgusting to me.
"Fine," I lied again.
"I'm glad she… understood."
Anita's smile widened.
"She did. Cried a little, but she understood. Poor thing thought she could just waltz in and take what's mine."
She reached across the table and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead.
"But she can't. No one can."
Her fingers lingered on my skin. I leaned into the touch because I knew that's what she wanted.
"You're mine, Adrian," she whispered, voice soft but intense. "Forever. Say it."
"I'm yours," I said, meeting her eyes.
It was like putting on handcuffs voluntarily.
Her expression melted into pure adoration. She got up, walked around the table, and climbed into my lap, straddling me. The chair creaked under our combined weight. She cupped my face with both hands and kissed me again, hungrier this time.
"I love you so much," she breathed between kisses. "You have no idea how much. Even when you make me angry… even when you talk to other girls… I still love you more than anything."
Her hips rolled against me slowly. I could feel her heat through the thin fabric. My body responded despite everything. Horny traitor that it was. Anita noticed, of course.
"See?" she purred, grinding down harder. "Your body knows who it belongs to."
I gripped her waist, not sure if I was trying to stop her or pull her closer. She took it as encouragement. Her hands slid under my shirt, feeling up my shoulders, kneading them like a lovesick girl who hadn't received love her entire life.
"Anita…" I started, voice hoarse.
"Shh." She nipped at my bottom lip. "Lemme take care of you."
She raised her hips, and reached into my pants, freeing me from my jail with practiced ease. No foreplay. No hesitation. She sank down onto me in one smooth motion, gasping softly as I filled her.
All I could think about as she settled down clinging like a koala were things completely unrelated to sex.
University. Studying. Jay. Her friends. Friends? Can I have friends in the first place? Well, Jessica was an exception because she took a liking to me. But I didn't clearly drive her away, was that it? Should I have been clearer with that? I guess Anita was right, what did I even expect trying to keep up something, anything with Jessica, who clearly wanted to have something more than just a friendship with me? Didn't I put her in danger? Was that it? I wanted her in danger?
Did I deep down....want her gone?
...Her tongue traced my lower lip, and for a moment I tried to convince myself that this was normal. I remembered all the good things she'd done for me. The expensive gifts. The way she looked at me like I was the only person in her world. I grabbed her hands intertwining our fingers together, and even though I vented out all my anger on her poor bony fingers, she smiled and looked at me as if she'd be more than happy to absorb all my frustrations. I closed my eyes tight, desperately searching for even one warm memory I could still cling to.
But nothing came.
Instead, all I could feel was the heavy weight of her body on top of mine, the way her fingers dug into my skin just a little too possessively, the faint metallic scent still clinging to her hair from last night. I felt a black hole form in my stomach. My jaw clenched so hard it ached. A cold, ugly feeling bloomed in my chest, sharp and bitter.
I hate her.
The thought hit me like ice water. I didn't flinch on the outside, but inside something cracked. I hated the way she smiled after terrorizing another woman. I hated how easily she crawled into my lap like she owned every inch of me. I hated that my body still reacted to her touch even while my mind screamed.
I'd run out of excuses. I'd run out of memories worth saving.
I'd started to hate her.
The food on the table had gotten cold. My legs were recovering from the numbness. But I didn't move. Moving might break whatever fragile peace I had right now. I gazed at Anita as she walked past me dripping of something angelic, with a cigarette in between her lips.
"Eat your breakfast," she said cheerfully. "You need your strength. University today, right?"
I nodded, pulling my pants back up with shaking hands. The omelette was cold as a rock laying on the floor of the deep sea, but I ate it anyway. She overlooked the city from the balcony sometimes looking back to confirm I'm still there at the table.
After breakfast, I cleaned up while she got ready for work. She came out from the bedroom in her sharp lawyer suit, hair pinned neatly, looking every bit the successful professional. No one would ever guess what she was capable of behind closed doors.
Before leaving, she pulled me into a long kiss at the door.
"Be good today," she murmured against my lips. "No talking to girls. No gym. Come straight home after classes."
"I will."
She searched my eyes for any hint of defiance. Finding none, she smiled and kissed my forehead.
"I love you, honeybee."
"I love you too."
The door closed. The electronic lock beeped. I was alone.
For ten full minutes I just stood there, leaning against the wall, breathing hard. Then I walked to the bedroom, pulled out my phone, and opened the gallery. I scrolled until I found the hidden folder.
Photos of bruises. Screenshots of threatening messages. A short video I'd taken last week of her yelling at me, voice distorted with rage.
Evidence.
My thumb hovered over the delete button. One tap and it would all disappear. I could go back to pretending everything was fine. Feed the monster. Stay alive.
Instead, I transferred the files to a USB drive and hid it deep in my university bag.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it yet. But for the first time in months, I felt something other than pure fear.
A tiny, flickering spark of something dangerous.
Anger.