by CR Robertson
Last night’s row played in my head while I ate pizza and watched Once Upon a Time on Netflix.
“My mother wants to know why you aren’t pregnant,” he sneered in my face after his latest mistress left.
“It takes two to make a baby,” I pointed out. Normally, I didn’t answer back but I was pissed at the skank in my bed.
My hair was yanked back. “What the fuck are you implying? That my dick isn’t working?”
It clearly had been since it was stuck inside some random woman without a condom on it when I came home. I remained silent. The best way to calm the beast was silence. I’d had the Mirena coil implanted two years ago after a pregnancy scare. No child needed to endure this hell of an existence.
He raved in the background about his magical dick while I sat in that numb trace I’d developed over the years. I took myself to my happy place and imagined myself in the role of one of my characters. It was how I wrote my novels, envisaging myself in the role of the heroine. There were no boyfriends with small thin dicks that he had no idea how to use for anyone’s pleasure but his own. The heroes in my book knew how to pleasure a woman, they didn’t leave it to the heroine to complete the task herself while they fell asleep.
I was a writer, so all I needed to be able to work was my laptop. His family and friends believed I was a kept woman. Even Sean was under the impression that his big and powerful job provided a life that I should be happy in. What none of them knew was that I had created my own life since I stayed at home after several long and nasty rows.
Sean would be arrogant enough to believe that I would crawl back because I needed him financially. He was wrong. I didn’t need anyone. In my head, I’d planned this for months, and now that I was gone, there was no way I would ever return to that miserable life.
I texted Sean’s brother since he had a key to our home, then I turned my phone off.
Today, I ran away to save myself.
Tomorrow, I would start to create a new life.
But tonight, I would eat ice cream and watch Netflix, because I deserved to have one night to mourn the death of my relationship. Or maybe celebrate my escape. There were days it felt that I would drown in the ocean of his tainted love, but tonight my head had finally broken through the water as I gulped in fresh air for the first time in ten years.
***
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