Page 69 of Hate It with You

Drunk on my own pleasure, I’m unaware of what I’m saying when my lips brush her ear. “Beth, I lo⁠—”

Her hand covers my mouth as she commands, “Stop.”

I pull out of her before she can finish the word, taking a few steps back, creating distance between us. Though the distance tears me apart, she’s the one with the control.

She has always had control over me.

I’m silent, the right words nowhere to be found as I stand there, kicking myself for my slipup. I can barely get her to tell me what’s going on. Telling her that I love her right now won’t progress us in the right direction.

When she hops down from the dresser and picks up her discarded shirt, that was once originally mine, I know I’ve fucked up.

“You can stay, if you want to.” I pick my sweatpants off the floor and slide them on as I try my best to keep my tone calm and collected.

She doesn’t look at me as she says, “I have to be up early in the morning.” Walking toward my bedroom door, each step she takes forms a crack in my chest that has rendered my body frozen. The feeling all too familiar from my childhood.

“I’ll see you around.” It’s quiet, a comment thrown over her shoulder, before she slips out of my room, the front door clicking behind her as she exits my apartment.

I slump down on my bed, and my head falls into my hands as I work through the events of tonight. I’ve watched the woman I love walk away from me, rebuilding her walls I’ve worked so hard to tear down this past year.

But I’m not delusional. When she looked at me in the mirror, her face carried the same expression as mine. There’s no denying our connection, our love.

Tonight, I’ll give her space, but tomorrow, I’m getting to the bottom of what’s going on. I’ll be damned if I let a few stupid notes get between me and the woman who was made to be mine.

29

BETH

As if I wasn’t shaken up enough by what Alex had almost said to me last night, I came back to my apartment to find another note.

This time, sitting on my kitchen counter. My mind was so flooded with worry over talking with Alex that I forgot to lock the door when I left.

The scariest part is that Frank had to have left the note when I was over at Alex’s last night. My predictions are proving true. He’s gaining confidence and becoming bolder. The fucker even somehow avoided most of the cameras. When I checked the feed, I couldn’t spot more than half a hooded figure or a blurry shoulder.

I’m sitting at my kitchen counter, with only a cup of tea in front of me and the note that was left. I read the words again, my eyes straining from my lack of sleep.

Maybe I wasn’t clear… Keep your boy toy out of this, or he dies.

Frank is watching my every move. Each time I get closer to happiness, he’s there, ready to torment me with another note, tearing my life apart.

His inclination for torture is no different from what I experienced as a child. Though this time, he seems more focused on taking any part of my happiness away from me. Before, he would just get drunk and beat me until he was tired.

A knock on my door makes me jump. Too tired for pleasantries, I swing the door open, not surprised to find Alex standing in the doorway, a cup of tea for me and a coffee for him. The action is becoming a habit for Alex.

“What?” I ask, monotone, no energy left in my body.

“We need to talk,” he says, ever more serious.

I open the door wider, allowing him to step inside. “Yeah, we probably should,” I say, having made up my mind this morning about where to go from here.

When I close the door, neither one of us moves. We stand there facing each other in the entryway of my apartment, the living room full of unpacked boxes behind me and the kitchen behind him.

“We need to discuss what happened last night.” He passes me the cup of tea. I take a sip, the warm liquid caressing my vocal cords before I cut the conversation short.

“No need for that. I won’t be fulfilling the remainder of my lease, so there’s no need to talk about last night, or anything else.” I look at my teacup, not wanting to catch whatever expression Alex currently wears on his face.

There’s a pause, the air around us stalling, before he says, “Where is this coming from?” His tone is gentle, but his breath is noticeable, the pace increasing in frequency.

Looking at him, I respond, “I never intended to renew the lease, and after last night, I think it’s best if I find somewhere else to live.”