Recently i found myself sitting on the laptop and writing stories of exciting adventures and lives that could be lead when people are either thrown into a situation or have the choice to do something about it. And that got me thinking that maybe i should start doing something different, well just in general doing something with my life.
But as i write anything about plans or future ideas that i want to do, he stands over me reading and begins to laugh,
"You can never achieve that!" Picking up the laptop and tossing it between his hands while he tries to re-write my future, as he always did. "Why do you need a job? I am bringing in enough money for both of us." He placed the laptop on the ironing board, kissed me on the forehead as if he had said nothing wrong, and sat back down in his 'xbox chair' to carry on playing the new game he just brought with his pay cheque.
I tried to remember the last time that he had brought me something that i wanted, instead of something that i insisted on having in order to actually live my life. All clothing were brought by friends or relatives for my birthday, and even then he would criticise what i had brought, "that doesnt look right on you." My self confidence was at a low, but everytime i looked at him i thought that i would be happy if i carried on and talked to him later on in the day. When the time came, when i knew that it was right to talk to him.
Finally when his game was over and he went into the kitchen to get some snacks before someone turned up to play on it with him, i went into the kitchen afterwards and admired the way he seemed to light up when he heard my footsteps.
"What can i do for you little miss?" He held a knife in his hand and swirlled it around, trying to impress me but only making me laugh when it landed squarely on the floor.
"Totally." He picked it up and did a sweeping kiss on my cheek as he slowly brought his head up,
"Got a headache." He rubbed the side of his head and started buttering the bread that he had,
"Nothing i cant handle." I rubbed his back and smiled, thinking that it had only been a couple of months so far and things were going well. It was time that i talked to him about it, tried to make things right instead of carrying on feeling like i did; he had always said to talk to him about my feelings,
"Yeah." He turned around and looked at me, sweeping away some hair from my face, that i had purposefuly but there. When it moved, he saw in the new light of the kitchen the small bruise that was emerging and the red mark that told it was still fresh.
"That looks painful." I moved the hair back over and looked him in the face, i had to tell him how i was feeling,
"Baby, we need to talk." Suddenly his face changed from complete happiness and bliss to a darker cloud where wrinkles lined the side of his mouth and eyes. He seemed a different person in a matter of minutes, but i kept an eye on the fists that were by his side.
"What?" I moved my head slightly and looked in the mirror that i had previously thought was ill placed and now seemed just at the right angle and heigh; it was too obvious for me to miss.
"Nothing." I kissed him on the cheek and made my way to the living room.
I didnt want him to hit me again.