painkillers. - H.S ✔

chicken

I decided that I wanted today to be a good day. I wanted Trent to come home to the smell of delicious homemade chicken and a Caesar salad. But things did not turn out as planned. The chicken was halfway done and I was feeling confident that it would be ready at least twenty minutes after Trent came home. But almost an hour later, he didn't show. I decided I would stop worrying and sit on the couch and just read The Lovely Bones. My fingers grazed the beige-tinted pages and with every page, I fell more into the book.

The loud blaring sound of the smoke detector broke me from the world of Susie Salmon. I hopped up straight away, terrified that I'd burn myself opening the stove.

I squeezed my eyes shut and stumbled through the kitchen trying to find a rag to wave away the smoke. My fingers caught hold of the dirty fabric and I frantically waved it around in the air trying to clear the smoke.

I pulled open the oven door. The smell of burning chicken spoiled the air and I cursed loudly at the fact that I didn't have a dinner. Trent would be mad, it would be our third night ordering Chinese and Trent would have to make a remark about how overweight it would make me to have another couple egg rolls. All I wanted was something special. But as always, I ruined it.

I bit on my lower lip to try and fight the tears back. But I stood strong, tucked a long piece of my thick brown hair behind my ear and pulled open the cabinet under the sink for a garbage bag. I tossed the spoiled chicken into it and kicked the oven closed. I was going to make this dinner work.

The salad wasn't enough and I wasn't even sure of the Caesar dressing was good anymore. Trent loved his meat and salad was never an option for dinner when he was home.

6:13

Exactly an hour later. My first guess was that Trent was out at the bar. Sloppily making out with some girl after chugging down four beers and two tequila shots while watching Tuesday night golf. Maybe if I just ran down the road to the grocery store, I could save tonight. I could save myself.

But what was the point in risking it anyways? Trent would figure out that I'd bought the chicken and freak out. If he really was blackout drunk, I would be in worse pain then I'd ever been.

I glanced around the kitchen, the garbage bag fell beside me, the remaining odor and smoke lingering in the air, my book sprawled out on the floor, a vase of flowers that I'd accidentally knocked down spilled onto the coffee table. It was a mess, and Trent wouldn't be happy if he came home to this.

Be a good housewife, Marielle. Do what Trent wants you to do.

What you were made to do.

-

Here I was, standing in front of the neighbor's door, my fist hovering less than an inch apart from the door, waiting to knock. Harry would surely have something I could borrow. He wouldn't mind, would he? That's what neighbors are for.

I closed my eyes and relaxed. The sound of my own knocking startled me. I can't believe I was doing this.

Harry opened the door and revealed himself. His hair was as it was earlier, his eyes still a radiant green. Nothing had changed since earlier when I'd run out and left him alone. Like the coward I was.

"Oh, Mara. How can I help you?" I could tell he was mad by the tone of his voice. It sounded so bland, so different from the deep raspy voice I liked so much.

"I-I..how do I put this?" He raised an eyebrow at me and I scrambled for the words that now seemed so odd to be coming out of my mouth.

"I need a chicken."
Harry just laughed.

"Okay..well, would you like to come in again? And don't be running off like earlier, please." I stepped back into the now dimly lit apartment and gave the Brit in front of me a half-smile before following him to his kitchen.

Again.

-

American hotline for domestic abuse:1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Website link for more information and numbers:
http://www.thehotline.org

Watch these:
https://youtu.be/WL3rfk2iFww
https://youtu.be/hhHdIhfK7LQ
https://youtu.be/5Z_zWIVRIWk

-

P.S:
Sorry I've been MIA for the past couple of days. I've been kind of busy and not in a good mental state. The whole point of not having a writing schedule for me is to have time to think of ideas and not be rushed to publish a chapter. To really have freedom.

I always work hard on my chapters and even though this one was a little different and not as..deep..as the others, I think it's a good filler for now. The good parts are coming soon!

Anyways, sorry for the long message.

Bye! 💜