by Britney King
He shoves me hard into the wall. I guess I wasn’t listening. I shouldn’t have made a habit of that either. I don’t feel the pain. I don’t feel anything. “Ah, now look what you made me do,” he huffs, running his fingers through his hair. He’s staring at me as though this is the first time he’s seeing me. His face is twisted. He wants me to think he's trying to work out his next move. He isn’t. He’s a planner, through and through.
Still, he’s good at concealing what he doesn’t want anyone to know. If only I’d been more like that. I wasn't. That's why I don’t know if this is it, if this is the end. I only know where it began.
“We had an agreement,” he reminds me. And he’s right.
We did have an agreement.
That’s how this all started.
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