All The Mixed Feelings (Van McCann)

Part 32

Warnings: This part contains some physical and verbal abuse...

Abby

Of course, talking about leaving Chris was a lot easier than actually doing it. I was determined though. I'd seen him several times throughout the week but couldn't find the right time, or the right words. In truth I was petrified. I'd sit there at the other end of the sofa watching him whilst his focus was on the TV, rehearsing lines in my head.

I'm leaving you.

I don't want to be with you.

Chris, I don't love you anymore.

Every time though my hands would instinctively go to my throat as I remembered the feel of his hand there, the vice-like grip, the cold look in his eyes, like he could easily have choked the life right out of me without breaking a sweat.

Saturday rolled around and I found myself getting ready for drinks with Chris in town. Eve had given me a weak smile when I'd told her where I was going and I could tell exactly what she was thinking. You're never going to leave him.

I pulled on a skin-tight dress I'd recently bought. It was probably a bit much for the pub, but it actually made me feel good about myself and I needed a confidence boost. I appraised myself in the mirror, turning this way and that, wondering whether I should go and change when Eve appeared next to me.

"Can you actually walk in those things?" She pointed to my sky-high stiletto strappy sandals.

"Not really," I giggled, "but I didn't think my converse would go with this!"

Eve rolled her eyes. "You and those old bloody converse, they're only fit for the bin!"

I heard my taxi pull up outside so said my goodbyes, Eve shouting out behind me that she was staying at Mike's that evening.

A text came through as the taxi pulled up at the pub. It was Michelle texting from Manchester.

Michelle: Wish you were here! All the guys do too. Van says hi since he's not allowed to text you! Think he's missing you 😉

The message was accompanied by a picture of Van pulling a silly face. I giggled, why did he always have to pull that daft expression? God, I missed him. I put the phone back in my handbag, taking a deep breath before I pushed open the doors of the pub, my heart immediately sinking.

The first thing that struck me was the number of empty glasses on the table in front of Chris. The second thing was Matt sitting there across the table from Chris, looking me up and down with a huge smirk on his face.

"Abby, long time no see!"

"Hi Matt," I said through gritted teeth, sliding on to the seat next opposite him, taken aback when I glanced across at Chris to see his distasteful expression.

"What the fuck you got on? You look like a right slut!"

His words stung and I was temporarily stunned, self-consciously pulling at the hem of my dress. Matt hid a snigger behind his pint glass. Chris wasn't finished yet.

"There's only one reason a girl wears something that short. And that's to get attention from blokes!"

"I can wear what I like actually," I muttered under my breath.

Chris pushed back from the table, causing the glasses to shake, mumbling something about going to the bar before stalking off. I just sat there, feeling humiliated, not wanting to look at Matt who I knew would be enjoying this. He spoke anyway.

"Talking of sluts... no offence Abby..."

Bastard! I glared at him, willing him to choke on the pint he was sipping. He carried on.